Page 23 of The Wicked

A knock at the door made me jump out of my skin, and my first instinct was to hide the way I had that night at the side of the road. But my car was in the driveway, and the lights were on, and—

“Sara, are you there?”

My knees went weak with relief when I recognised Brooke’s voice. Should I answer? Or crawl behind the couch before she looked through the windows?

“Sara, open the door. We know you’re in there,” Blue called.

Uh-oh, Brooke had brought reinforcements? I heard Addy’s voice next, quieter. “Should we look for a spare key? Or would Parker have one?”

Blue was practically psychic; she’d find the key behind the ugly cherub statue if she looked hard enough. And I absolutely didn’t want the Baldwin family involved in this any more than they already were.

“I’m coming,” I called weakly.

At least I could return the jewellery, which would check one item off my to-do list. I opened the door and found the three of them standing there. Brooke looked worried, but Blue had her arms folded, which wasn’t a good sign.

Brooke wrapped me up in a hug before stepping back to study me. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, honestly. Just”—I yawned for effect—“just tired.”

“Liar,” Blue said.

Addy glanced through the doorway to my bedroom. “Why are you packing a suitcase?”

“Uh, a friend invited me to go visit. So I’ll just get that jewellery I borrowed, and—”

“Where’s this friend?” Blue asked, picking up the passport I’d left on the coffee table. “Overseas?”

“I…I…”

Brooke wouldn’t let me stay silent. “What happened last night? You said someone shot a woman, but Luca checked, and there were no incidents at the Peninsula.”

“And nobody was playing a murder mystery game either,” Blue added. “Although Nico was tempted to dig a shallow grave for your cousins by all accounts.”

That was it. I couldn’t take any more. No more challenges, no more questions, no more kindness. The mask I’d been wearing since I moved to Oregon finally crumbled, and a mess of tears tumbled out.

“I can’t… I just can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Blue asked, still thumbing through my passport, and Brooke shushed her as she half carried me to the couch.

“It’s okay,” Brooke murmured. “Whatever happened, we can fix it.”

“You c-c-can’t fix it. Nobody can fix it.”

“Not if you don’t tell us what the problem is,” Blue said, and I felt rather than saw her roll her eyes.

The couch dipped as Addy sat on the other side of me. “Should I get you a drink? Water? Coffee? Margarita?”

I shook my head.

Blue tossed the passport back onto the table and folded her arms again. “Well?”

“It’s…it’s all in the past. What I got upset about, I mean. And…and…you don’t need the details.”

“Is this something to do with your mom? She was shot, wasn’t she?”

My spine went rigid, as if a sadistic surgeon had injected it with titanium. Yes, Mom had been shot, but that wasn’t what her death certificate said. The second autopsy concluded that the lump of metal rattling around in her head had been a byproduct of the car crash. That both of my parents had passed away in a tragic accident.

“W-w-why would you think that?”

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