She was going to try to get into Garrett’s bedroom.
No one knew she was here. She hadn’t told Ethan she was coming. He would have figured out a way to stop her. But she couldn’t find the proof she needed if she never tried.
Garrett’s street had felt strangely vacant as Sutton’s GPS led her to his house. No traffic rushed by, and no one in the neighborhood seemed to be outside doing yard work or enjoying the golden November sun. The only thing she could hear was the soft, constant chatter of birds overhead. A few blocks away, someone at the country club yelled, “Fore!” It was punctuated by the soft pock of a ball being smacked in the distance.
As she set foot in the Austins’ yard, a bizarre, high-pitched cry tore through the air. Emma jumped, panic surging in the pit of her stomach. Another cry broke out, and then another, again and again, echoing off the flagstones. It sounded like a girl’s voice, wailing in pain.
Each keening cry seemed to cut through Emma’s chest. She spun in circles, looking for the source of the sound. For a split second she was sure that Garrett had another victim here, somewhere on his property. But then two enormous peacocks came hustling out from the backyard, their tails dragging behind them. One of them tossed its head back, its throat shuddering as it gave the cry she’d mistaken for human. Emma shrieked as they beelined for her. She jumped up onto a stone bench next to the pond just as the birds swooped toward her. They flanked her, angling their heads to glare at her with their beady eyes.
The front door opened, and a thickset woman with sandy blonde hair stuck her head out, calling, “Rocko! Salvador!” Then she saw Emma cowering on the bench. Her eyes widened, and she bustled through the doorway. The peacocks pivoted their heads on their long necks to look at her, and one stalked toward her, looking hopefully at her hand. “Shoo!” she said. “I don’t have any corn, you wretched things.”
This had to be Garrett’s mom. She had the same hair, the same molasses-brown eyes—though where her son was all muscle, she had the rounded corners of a teddy bear under her loose linen pants and brown sweater. Amber rings glittered on every finger, amber drop earrings hung from her lobes, and a pair of cat-eye glasses hung at her chest from a chain made of amber beads.
Emma held her breath as the woman made warding-off motions with her hands while the birds stood and stared balefully. She didn’t know what Garrett might have told his mother after their breakup, or what kind of relationship Sutton had with her boyfriend’s mom to begin with. But when the peacocks had finally strutted away around back, the woman broke into a warm smile.
“Sutton!” she exclaimed. She extended a hand to help Emma down from the bench. “It’s been so long! Sorry about the boys,” she said, sighing toward the peacocks. “They’ve been so aggressive lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into them.”
Emma gave the woman a tentative smile. “I’m sorry I, uh, got them all riled up. Thanks for saving me, Mrs. Austin.” As soon as the words left her mouth a cloud moved over the woman’s expression.
“That’s Garrett’s stepmother’s name, dear,” she said coolly. “Remember? My maiden name is Ramsey.”
Emma cursed herself inwardly. Of course—Garrett’s parents were divorced. But as quickly as it had appeared, the woman’s darkened expression passed. “Besides, why are you calling me Mrs. anything? You always used to call me Vanessa.”
Vanessa. Something stirred at the back of my mind. As usual, it was almost impossible to nail down a specific memory, but I could grasp at fragments. I remembered having dinner with Garrett’s family, picnic-style on the floor of their living room. I remembered the impression that there was a lingering sadness around her, though I wasn’t sure why. Was it a remnant of a bitter divorce, or something darker? I struggled again to conjure up a memory of Garrett’s sister—what had happened to her?—but nothing came to me.
Emma took a deep breath. “Sorry, Vanessa. It’s been a long time.”
The woman patted Emma’s shoulder, smiling wistfully. “It has, hasn’t it? But I’m so glad to see you now. Does this mean you and Garrett are friends again?”
Emma hesitated. Garrett’s mom was nothing like she’d expected. She seemed so sweet; the idea of lying to her made Emma a little nauseated. But she had to get into Garrett’s room somehow.
“We’re trying,” she said evasively. Vanessa nodded, and for a moment, she looked tired.
“I know how difficult he can be sometimes,” she said, her voice low. “But you meant so much to him. I’m glad you’re trying to stay in each other’s lives. I always thought you were good for him, Sutton.”
Emma bit her lip. “You did?”
“Of course.” Vanessa had a dimple in her left cheek, the same as Garrett’s. When she smiled, the years peeled off her. “You were the only girlfriend he ever had who didn’t let him get away with murder.”
Emma forced a hollow laugh at Vanessa’s choice of words. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” She cleared her throat. “I stopped by because I think Garrett has my Wildcats sweatshirt. Is he here?”
Vanessa shook her head, her amber earrings swaying with the movement. “No, I’m afraid he’s still at school. Pumping iron, I think he calls it?” She had a gasping, breathless laugh. “He won’t be home for a few hours.”
Emma pretended to be disappointed, pursing her lips in a pout. “Oh, man. I was really hoping to wear it this weekend. They’re playing New Mexico, and I always wear that shirt when I watch the game with my dad.”