Page 124 of What She Saw

Silence ticked between us. And then: “Come inside.”

I stepped inside. I didn’t glance over my shoulder toward Grant standing in the driveway. Air-conditioning cooled my hot skin. The house was immaculate. A carpet indented with vacuum cleaner tracks, a mirror so polished it cut the light hitting it in two, and kitchen counters behind her wiped clean. I’d hoped to grab a dirty glass or hair from a comb for a DNA test. But there was nothing.

“Thank you,” I said.

She closed and locked her front door. “You cannot expose me.”

“You’re Tristan Fletcher.”

“I didn’t say that. And if you spread that lie, it won’t matter if it’s true or not.”

“I don’t want to go public. But I will if you don’t talk to me.”

She folded her arms over her chest.

“I don’t bluff, Susan.”

“Don’t you care about me?” Her voiced kicked up an octave. “This is going to destroy my life.”

“At least you’re alive.”

“I can’t undo what happened thirty-one years ago.”

“You can help me find them.”

“Who’s the man in the car in my driveway?”

“Former cop. He’s been working with me. He’s interested in keeping Colton in prison.”

“You’ll end the life I have.” She was a broken record, her fear on constant repeat.

“I don’t want to ruin anything.” That wasn’t true. She’d been hiding for thirty-one years, and her silence had trapped so many innocentsin their own prisons. Even her father was ensnared in limbo. “But sometimes you must break a few eggs to make an omelet.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “Can’t you just go away and leave me alone?”

“What happened at the festival?”

She closed her eyes, shaking her head.

“Colton kept a ring that your father identified as yours.”

Her thumb brushed the underside of her ring finger, as if she could still feel the delicate gold encircling her skin.

“You were last seen near the stage about eleven p.m. on Friday night. What happened?”

She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. She drank and then washed the glass with soap and water before setting it in a dish drainer by the sink.

Whatever Susan thought about her life, it was clear she’d been in her own prison. She never made a move without fearing discovery. Even drinking from a glass was too much of a risk for her.

“What happened?” I pressed.

She rested her hands on either side of the sink and stared out the window. “Rafe Colton saw me dancing at the festival and told me I was good. He asked if I wanted to dance on the stage when the next band played their set.”

“I’ve seen pictures of him. He was an attractive man.”

“And so charming.” She shook her head. “I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I was so smart.”

“You were eighteen. I’ve met very few teenagers who know the world.”