Page 92 of The Graveyard Girls (Detective Ellie Reeves #11)

NINETY-ONE

Finch Gardens, Sweetgum Lane

Tilly and Hayden made a joint decision not to call and tell their parents they were coming.

Unlike fifteen years ago when they were kids, subjected to being treated as less than Ruth and divided by their own teenage pain, they formed a bond this evening as Tilly parked in front of the two-story Georgian home her parents had built after leaving Brambletown.

“You think Mom and Dad will tell us the truth?” Tilly asked.

Hayden tapped his fingers on his thigh. “Who knows. But it’s time we get everything out in the open. We aren’t kids anymore and this black cloud has hovered over our family for too long. It’s the reason I joined the military.”

Tilly gave him an understanding look. “I’m so sorry for what happened in Afghanistan,” she said softly. “That must have been so awful.”

“It was.” Regret and pain deepened his voice. “But I saw a counselor and eventually decided not to go down the rabbit hole of addiction and vowed to atone for my mistakes by helping others.”

“And you’ve been doing that,” Tilly said, grateful to have earned his confidence. She’d been alone for so long she couldn’t remember even having a close friend, not one who understood her family situation. It felt good to be comrades.

Hayden squeezed her hand. “As much as I can.”

“Good for you,” she said and squeezed his hand in return. “Now let’s talk to the folks. No matter what they say, at least we have each other now.”

“Yeah, we do.”

She fought tears at his sincerity and reached for the door handle.

Like strangers, they rang the doorbell, the silence thickening with apprehension as they waited for someone to answer. The garage door was closed, but if they were home, it probably held a Mercedes or Beamer or some other expensive car her father drove. He had his standards.

The wind whirled around them, sending the windchimes on the front porch into a frenzy and echoing in the air, clashing and thrashing to the beat of Tilly’s heart.

The sky was darkening as the sun slid down and the moon had yet to appear, obliterated by the clouds above.

An eerie chill washed over Tilly, sending her back to that horrible night Ruth sneaked out when she’d stared through the window and willed her sister to come home while she debated what to do.

Be the tattle tale or face her sister’s wrath.

Even if she’d told, her parents would have defended Ruth and let her off with a talk.

Unless that wasn’t what happened at all. Unless Ruth challenged her father to the point that he lost control. She’d only seen that once.

Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want to relive that night or believe that her father was capable of violence.

But she’d seen what she’d seen and it was permanently imprinted in her brain. Her mother crying and screaming that her father had been ogling the teenage waitress at the restaurant where they’d had dinner.

The rage in her father’s eyes, the sound of his fist hitting the coffee table and the wine glass shattering, Merlot streaming onto the floor like a river of blood.