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“You two are spending an awful lot of time together again,” she remarks suspiciously as she suspends the blinds between her fingers, eyeing his car in the driveway.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” I assure her. “I know you didn’t have the best first impression of him, but he’s not a bad guy.”
She looks to me with a haunting expression, as if she can instinctively see straight through to all of the doubts inside me. But she quickly softens with a half-smile. “I hope you’re right,” she says softly, before pulling me in for a hug.
“See you later,” I answer quickly, pulling away to run to the warmth of Emmett’s car. He tries to lean over and kiss me the moment I get in, but I can still feel my mother’s eyes on us, so I stiffen under his touch. “Let’s go,” I urge him. “My mom is on high alert right now.”
He nods as he looks back at her through the window and quickly puts the car in reverse. “Thanks for coming with me this morning,” he offers as we drive off through my neighborhood.
“What are we doing anyway?” I ask as I fumble for my seatbelt.
“I was thinking I should look in Bernadette’s room,” he explains. “Maybe see what’s in her diary. I just didn’t want to go back to the house alone.” He spreads his hand across my knee with a tight squeeze.
I’m half-relieved that we’re focusing on Bernadette again. That’s all I was supposed to be in this for when he first came to me, and things somehow quickly spiraled back into the throes of our relationship. At least now I know his sister’s claimed disappearance wasn’t just some scheme to rope me back in, and his willingness to finally go through her things lessens some of my suspicions about him in this ordeal—and will hopefully return some of my feelings from the night before.
“Are you still adamant about not going to the cops?” I ask once again, reflecting on how many days she’s been missing at this point.
“Not until I know more,” he replies grimly. “Mom is still against it.”
It’s hard not to be distracted by his scent as we go. One whiff of his cologne sends me into a haze of memories from our recent encounters, last night’s especially. I hate how easy it is for me to be distracted by my lust for him, even while we’re playing detectives for his missing sister. Maybe we’re both eager to cling to sex as an escape.
Emmett flashes me a strange grin as we pull up to his family’s manor, which makes me wonder if he was just thinking the same thing I was. But the grinding gears of the car going into park snaps us back to the task at hand.
Their ornate, blackened-iron fence towers above me, bringing back chilling memories. We walk down the long, circular driveway and around the fountain at its center as sprinklers sputter mist across the perfectly green, manicured lawn.
I try to avoid the vivid images flashing before my eyes of my father showing up on their doorstep as we walk through the entryway. I was running for my life and ended up face-to-face with him just before he shot Emmett’s dad. I guess not every girl my age could say they watched their dad murder someone, especially not their boyfriend’s father.
The Jameson manor is decorated in dark mahoganies, olive greens, and deep burgundies. The smells of Thomas Jameson still linger from his office. Scotch and cigars. Everything is dark and ominous and old. Not just old, but old and expensive. It’s the kind of lavishness that makes you feel afraid to move, always afraid of what thing you might accidentally stain or break that’s worth than your house.
The foyer has high vaulted ceilings with gold patterns sprawling across them to the start of the crown molding, with a large crystal chandelier in the center of the room that reflects dancing lights across the room, all the way up to the spiral staircase that leads to the hall where Emmett’s room is. Every room of the house is filled with expensive art and draperies, antique furniture and linens.
Things only feel more surreal as we walk through the mansion halls I was once held captive in. Emmett leads me to Bernadette’s room, which I hadn’t seen when I was here before. I’m surprised by how far it is down the hall from Emmett’s, but I guess the distant quarters explain how everyone in this family managed to be so different from one another.
The size of the room is somewhat surprising, though I guess it shouldn’t be considering the immensity of the house. Her large king bed rests along the center wall, made up with luxurious bedding.
“I guess we know she didn’t vanish too suddenly if the bed was made,” I offer, trailing my hand across the soft comforter.
“Maids,” he reminds me bluntly, making me feel stupid.
Emmett digs through her tidy nightstand, pulling out a red leather journal with a pen still attached to the outside. He sits on the corner of the bed and begins flipping through the pages as I look around the room. Everything is perfectly clean and in place, just as in Emmett’s room. Nothing like my chaotic, messy bedroom. I think it must be a relief to live in such an orderly space without ever having to clean it yourself, but something about it feels too stark. And knowing some of their family secrets, I don’t know if it’s a worthy trade.
“Well, what does it say?” I ask after a few minutes, checking the time on my phone.
“I guess Vivian was really angry at her for everything that happened between our families,” he explains. “She was mad that my mom and I made it out of everything unscathed, leaving both of her parents completely liable.”
“So, could Vivian be a suspect in all of this?” I offer eagerly, wishing Emmett would hate her as much as I do.
“Seems like they were still trying to be friends,” he continues. “And since Lily is sort of an outcast, too, I guess they wanted to take her back under their wing.”
“Does it say anything about me?” I accidentally blurt out, immediately realizing that shouldn’t be relevant. And judging by Emmett’s face, whatever it says about me is not surprisingly unkind. Enough that he’s not bothering to share, which is probably for the best. “It doesn’t matter,” I correct myself. “Anything else that might help us figure out where she went? What does the last entry say? Was she planning to meet up with Vivian or anything?”
He thumbs through to a middle passage that’s followed by blank pages and begins to read carefully. “There’s definitely nothing that sounds suicidal,” he says with a relieved sigh. “And nothing that hints at wanting to run away.”
“So, then we should question Vivian, right?” I suggest, clearing my throat and shifting uncomfortably across the plush carpet.
The last thing I want to do is encourage any interaction between Vivian and Emmett, but I can’t help thinking she has something to do with all of this. The police would probably assume the same, since Vivian was already angry with her. And maybe if I can get Emmett to see that, Vivian will finally be put out of our lives for good.
“I know you don’t like her,” he starts, prompting a sarcastic laugh to slip from my mouth.
