Page 64 of Our Darkest Summer

“Yes,” his father said, clearing his throat. “I do remember.” He stepped forward, offering his hand. He shook Thomas’s first, then Connor’s, then he turned to me. “And you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Kevin was faster.

“Kinsley,” he said. “She’s a family friend of theirs.”

His father’s gaze flicked between us, taking a second longer to process. Then, his shoulders eased slightly. “Alright then,” he said, nodding once. “Are any of you kids hungry?”

I hesitated, glancing at Thomas. Would he just ask him directly? But Thomas didn’t seem like he wanted to talk at all. He seemed lost in his thoughts, his focus locked on Kevin’s dad with an eerie intensity. Like he was searching for something.

“I’m starving,” Connor broke the silence, his usual carefree tone cutting the tension in half. Kevin’s dad gave him a small smile and turned toward what I suspected was the kitchen.

“Dad,” Kevin called after him, and he stopped mid-step. “They’re here to talk to you.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Thomas

Isaac Miller looked exactlythe same as I remembered from my childhood, despite the twelve years that had passed us by. The only difference was that I didn’t need to look up at him anymore.

“So, I suspectthishas something to do with your mom’s case,” he said, pulling a red kitchen apron over his head.

Beside me, my brother nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Isaac’s brows knotted. “Call me Isaac, please.” Then his eyes shifted to me. Assessing. “What can I help you with?”

I swallowed. Could I really trust his words?

Start slow, test the ground first.

“Did your father believe the witnesses?”Or did he keep investigating?

“As far as I know, my father believed the case was closed.” He nodded. “I’m sorry, Thomas, but everything we had pointed in one direction. Your mother left town.”

I stiffened. “So, he never questioned it?”

Then why did he keep her journal? And what was in that safe?

“I won’t pretend to know everything my father thought,” he said, placing meat onto the oven tray. “But if you’re askingwhether he ever shared doubts with me? No. He trusted the evidence. And so did I.”

A cold weight settled in my chest. The evidence was bullshit. Four or so people saw her at the bus stop at dawn. Four people who had never seen her before. They didn’t know her…why would she leave everything behind? Her car, her journals…us.

“Did she come to the police for help?” I asked. “Did she report any disturbances…?”And was sent away?

To this, I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it. He watched me over the frame of his glasses. Was he seriously considering his answer?

“She did,” he finally said, clearing his throat and turning to the oven. “If you’re asking who sent her away, I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

I glanced at Kinsley. Her eyes were burning into Kevin’s dad in an analyzing way. She was reading him. But could she see anything?

“Alright.” I tapped the glass of my watch. I needed to push a little further. “But shouldn’t there be a report about it?”

The side of his eyebrow twitched. “There should be.” He nodded, and I narrowed my eyes.

“So why isn’t there one?”

Isaac froze, the baking tray hovering in his hands. The beat of silence stretched. Kinsley’s fingers curled around the back of my T-shirt, a silent warning.

With my question, I admitted that I saw a sealed police file.