Page 95 of Our Little Secret

“You treat me like a baby.”

“And so you act like one. Your father and I were worried sick.” Futilely, she worked the switch, but once more the stupid wipers hardly moved. They couldn’t keep up with the rain. Still, she tried to drive, splitting her concentration between the road ahead and the conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Marilee said.

“We’re talking now.” Brooke was beyond irritated with her daughter’s petulance and demands. “We were scared to death. We didn’t know what had happened to you. There are girls missing, you know! Girls from your school.”

“I know, Mom, but I’m not!” Marilee said angrily.

Brooke was trying to keep her tone even but was failing. “With Penelope and Allison missing—”

Marilee gave a little snort.

What?

“Don’t you care?” Brooke almost screamed. “No one knows what happened to two of your classmates and you’re not concerned?” She was almost screaming now.

“God, Mom . . .” Marilee rolled her big eyes.

Brooke wanted to strangle her.

Marilee looked away quickly and added a shaky arrow to the heart she’d drawn in the condensation.

And then Brooke felt the hairs on the back of her neck lift. There was something going on here. Something Marilee wasn’t telling her. “You know where they are?” she asked, dumbstruck.

“No . . .”

But it wasn’t sincere.

“Marilee, if you know anything, and I meananything about where Penelope or Allison are, you have to tell me.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t have to tell you,” she said petulantly, her eyes sparking in defiance.

“That does it!” Brooke yanked on the wheel, pulled over to the curb, and put the car into Park. “What the hell do you know?” She faced her daughter, who was shriveling against the door.

“I’m not sure—”

“And we’re not moving until you tell me what it is.” She cut the engine. Then she laid a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Marilee shrank from her touch. “I mean it,” Brooke said, trying to keep her tone even. “Tell me everything you know about Allison right now or, I promise you, I’ll make sure you never see Nick again.”

Marilee gasped and reached for the handle of the door, but Brooke anticipated the move and hit the automatic door lock. “Tell me!”

“I can’t.”

“You damned well can and you will!” For the love of God, what did her daughter know? What kind of secret was she keeping?

Marilee burst into sobs. “I hate you!”

Brooke let the painful barb slide.

“You’re awful!”

She waited, the engine ticking. “I’m serious.”

Marilee cast her a look of pure loathing, tears and mascara running down her cheeks. She sniffed loudly, then wiped her nose with her hand. Brooke didn’t move, just stared at her daughter as the rain pounded on the hood and roof and the beams of her headlights caught the slanting drops. “I can stay here forever. In fact,” Brooke said, “I’ll call your dad and he can bring me coffee—”