Page 35 of No One Can Know

There were more words, more names carved in the doorframe that led into the kitchen. Her fingers moved over the grooves.KC+TM. That weirdSeveryone inexplicably became obsessed with drawing in middle school. A flower.

She paused, fingers under the simple carving. She knew this flower. She’d seen it doodled in margins, in fogged-up windows. A daisy.

It had to be a coincidence. It wasn’t that distinctive. And yet there it was. Juliette had left those little flowers like a signature everywhere she went. Scattered behind her, symmetrical and sweet. Juliette Palmer, with her perfect hair and perfect grades and perfect manners, would never have been in a place like this.

But Juliette hadn’t been home that night, either, had she?

Emma’s fingernail scratched across the lowest curve of the bottom petal. Emma had left first that night. But Juliette hadn’t been home when she returned. Had walked in the front door with bare feet, wet hair, wearing clothes that weren’t hers.

“Where did you go, Juliette?” Emma whispered.

“What did you say?” Travis asked.

Emma turned. Narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t come near my house again,” she said. She stalked past them. Both boys jumped out of the way. As she walked she took her phone out of her shorts pocket and pulled up a rarely accessed phone number.

I need to talk to you about Juliette, she wrote, and sent the text to Gabriel.

17EMMA

Now

Lorelei Mahoney’s house was a petite three-bedroom, exquisitely maintained by her husband for decades before his death and by Gabriel since. Lorelei’s prize roses were still blooming out front as Emma pulled up, but there was something changed about the quality of the garden, and Emma knew immediately that it wasn’t Lorelei herself tending to the flowers.

The old woman sat on her porch, wearing thick glasses and shaking her head at her phone as she scrolled. She was a petite woman, with her grandson’s long face, her skin sun-weathered and creased with dozens of fine wrinkles.

Emma got out of the car, suddenly sixteen again. Then, coming to this place had been entering a sanctuary. She would open the door without knocking and make her way to the studio at the back of the house. Sometimes Lorelei would be there; sometimes Emma would work alone for hours before she was interrupted. The first time she’d met Gabriel had been one of those days, the whole of her focus absorbed by the canvas in front of her so that when Gabriel made a sound behind her, she had no idea how long he had been there.

“You’re good,” he’d said. That was all. Then he’d wandered off into the depths of the house. By the time Lorelei introduced them officially, Emma was already in love.

There’d been far less reason then for Lorelei to dislike her, of course.She looked up now, and her face pulled into a deep frown. Emma stuck her hands in her pockets as she made her way up the walk.

“Emma. I was wondering when I might be seeing you,” Lorelei said.

“Hello, Mrs. Mahoney,” Emma replied, formal, and Lorelei didn’t correct her. Emma stayed on the walk, not wanting to give the impression she felt entitled to intrude on Lorelei’s domain.

“Are you looking for Gabriel?” Lorelei asked.

“I am,” Emma said. Loreleihmm-ed. Emma cleared her throat. “I know you’re not my biggest fan, after what happened.”

“You’re saying that like you want absolution,” Lorelei said. “You’re not going to get it from me. I’m not going to tell you you’re a horrible person, either, if that’s what you’re looking for. You share some blame for what happened, but hardly all of it.”

“I never intended anything to happen to Gabriel. I didn’t think—”

“That much was clear,” Lorelei said. She pursed her lips, then gestured over her shoulder. “He’s inside, if you want to talk to him.” Emma nodded gratefully and scaled the porch. Lorelei turned back to her phone.

Gabriel was in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher. He looked up when Emma entered, but he didn’t look surprised, exactly. More like resigned. “I told you I didn’t want to talk to you again,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Emma said. Seeing him was like a fist around her heart. She had missed him, even while she’d convinced herself she didn’t.

He shut the dishwasher and wiped his hands on a dish towel, leaning back against the counter. “What do you want?”

“I just have a couple of questions. Then I swear, I will leave you alone and never bother you again,” she said.

“All right.” He crossed his arms. “What do you want to know, Emma Palmer?”

“You used to go out to the Saracen house,” she said.

“Now and then. Not really my scene, though,” he said. “You said this was about Juliette.”

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