Page 34 of Circle of Strangers
“And Ezra?”
“Poor kid’s allergies are brutal this time of year. He doesn’t get outside much when it’s like this.”
“We should get the kids together soon. Finally make it happen.”
“Absolutely. Once Ezra’s breathing like a normal kid again, for sure. His asthma is just awful lately. It’s like his inhaler isn’t even doing anything for him. He sees his doctor in a couple of days, so I’ll mention it, but I swear this happens every year. I think his allergies make it worse. Poor guy can’t catch a break.”
We lapse into a comfortable silence as we loop back toward my house, the morning sun warm on our backs. Once we reach my driveway, Sozi waves with her usual bright smile, her energy so effortless it almost makes me forget about the fact that she admitted to watching the comings and goings around my house.
I tell myself it could be a good thing. She’d tell me if anything was amiss.
I step inside my cool, quiet house and kick off my sneakers by the door. The air feels still, like the house has been holding its breath while I was gone. I head upstairs, stripping off my workout clothes as I go, already thinking about the shower I desperately need.
When I push open the door to the bedroom, the scent of Will’s cologne lingers faintly in the air. It’s that new one he’s been wearing lately—clean, peppery, the kind of scent that clings just enough to make its presence known.
And then I see it.
Something shiny glinting on the dresser.
I walk closer, my steps slowing as the object comes into focus.
It’s a necklace. A delicate gold chain with two small pendants in the shape of the lettersMandO.
Mara’s necklace.
My stomach tightens, my pulse ticking faster as I stare down at it. Mara was wearing this the day we had coffee, but I don’t recall her wearing it by the pool yesterday.
What the hell is it doing in my bedroom?
I run through various possibilities, but none of them make sense. Will never mentioned anything about Mara being in here, and I’ve never invited her in. We always go around the side of the house, through the back gate.
I hover my hand over the necklace, but I don’t touch it. My mind spirals, turning over every possibility, each one more unsettling than the last.
Did she leave it here on purpose? Did Will put it here?
Or—
This doesn’t belong here. It shouldn’t be here. And yet, it is.
I rake it into my palm and place it in my top dresser drawer, with the rest of my jewelry, until I can ask Will about it later.
For his sake, I hope he has a perfectly logical explanation.
22
“Where’s the stinky cheese?” Jackson waves his spaghetti-covered fork around like a baton, making a mess on the table.
Georgie rolls her eyes dramatically, the way only a kindergartner can. “It’s calledparmesan.”
“On the counter, Jack-Jack,” Will says, pushing his chair back to grab it. He sets the green canister down in front of Jackson with a wink, ruffling his hair. “There you go.”
We’re halfway through dinner when the knock comes—a sharp, insistent rap at the front door.
I look up at Will and am met with a frown. We don’t get many visitors, especially not this late. And whoever’s at the door took it upon themselves to bypass our driveway gate. The kids pause, their chatter dying down as Will wipes his hands on his napkin and stands.
“I’ll get it,” he offers.
He heads for the door, and soon the low murmur of voices trails down our entrance hall—Will’s steady tone, the other tense and urgent. When he returns to the dining room, Oscar Moreno is right behind him.
