Page 35 of The Graveyard Girls (Detective Ellie Reeves #11)

THIRTY-FOUR

Pine Hill

Tilly walked through her childhood home, memories bombarding her in each room she entered.

She’d spent two hours cleaning it, dusting and sweeping, and trying to ignore the stains of childhood spills on the floor and the measuring stick on the wall where her parents had recorded hers, Ruth’s and her brother’s growth progression.

For years she’d wondered where her brother was, if he was still in the military or out and getting into trouble or if he’d cleaned up his act. She’d tried to find him once but hit a dead end when she was told he’d been discharged after his first tour.

She’d also hoped her parents would reach out, but apparently they still blamed her for Ruth’s disappearance. Guilt and pain seized her at the memory of their reaction toward her. Her father’s accusatory glare and her mother’s sobs after Tilly admitted she saw Ruth sneaking out the window.

“You should have come and gotten us,” her mother cried.

“If anything bad happens to her, it’s your fault,” her father snapped.

Tilly studied the measuring stick again, wishing she could turn back time. Three weeks before Ruth left, her mother measured them, but Ruth had rolled her eyes, calling her mother silly.

Tilly almost felt sorry for her mother except that she allowed Ruth to get away with talking shit to her.

Ruth had been obsessed with boys, making friends on Facebook, clothes and makeup. Tilly followed her a couple of times when she snuck out which infuriated her sister. The memory was just as fresh as the day it happened.

Ruth’s blond hair shined in the moonlight as she turned to Tilly. “Get lost, brat, you’re going to mess things up for me.”

Tears burned Tilly’s eyes. She just wanted to be close to her sister. “But I want to come along.”

A smug smile curved Ruth’s lips. “I said get lost or I’ll tell Mom and Dad you have no friends at school.”

Tilly felt like she’d been hit in the chest with a hammer because it was true. She really wanted to be friends with Ruth like when they were little and used to play dolls and dress-up .

But they were so different now. She was tomboyish and shy, not the sister with great hair and boobs like Ruth. She’d just as soon curl up with a good mystery novel in the corner than attend a party and talk to people with no interest in her or what she had to say.

Still, for some reason she wanted her sister’s approval. So she’d done what Ruth said and kept her secrets. And they’d both paid the price for it.

Guilt suffused her, and she shuffled past the kitchen, ignoring the tug of nostalgia of family dinners, Taco Tuesdays and holiday meals when the house had smelled like prime rib and her mother’s rosemary roasted potatoes.

Although meals had been stilted. Her mother insisted they dress for dinner and berated them if they didn’t use proper manners.

Her father had been up and down from the table on work phone calls and never joined the conversation.

As an adult now, she realized he’d ignored her mother.

The only one he paid attention to was Ruth.

And that was before Ruth went missing. The night that had happened they’d become obsessed with finding her.

Her parents had been distraught. Her mother turned to vodka while her father became the bane of the police’s existence, hounding Sheriff Wallace.

More than once, he’d accused him of negligence.

The two of them had disagreed over politics in the town, her father pushing to get the toxins cleaned up while Sheriff Wallace had dragged his feet.

Exhausted, Tilly carried a glass of Chardonnay to her bedroom, pulled on flannel pjs and crawled into bed. For a long minute, she lay looking at the dark ceiling. Staring into empty space. Listening to the sound of the furnace grumbling just as it had when she lived here.

Time rolled back as if it was a video on rewind…

The loneliness. The ache to be close to Ruth, to someone. Not to be the geek freak with the outgoing sister who she’d played Barbies and Candy Lane with at one time but who wanted nothing to do with her as a teen. She missed that big sister.

The warmth of the room finally lulled her into sleep and dreams carried her back in time.

Another sound… the window sliding up. Her sister’s room across the hall.

Tilly clenched the sheets, her heart thudding. Heard whispers in the dark. Ruth’s. A boy at the window calling Ruth’s name. The quiet padding of footsteps. The squeak of the wood floor.

“Shh.” Her sister’s voice. Then a quiet giggle. And nerves that ripped through Tilly from the inside out.

Then silence except for the wind whistling through the open window as Ruth left for the night.