They used her maiden name. Makes sense. Gran would’ve set fire to the entire town before referring to her murdered daughter as Sarah Thorn.
I stare at my mom’s name, letting the memory of the last time I saw her flood my mind. She was so frantic, running about the house, trying to get everything packed before he came home. I’d been no help—in fact, I’d probably been a hindrance, because I didn’t understand what was happening. I wanted a snack. I wanted her to play with me. I wanted her to stop scaring me, which she was, with that rabid look in her eye.
If I hadn’t slowed her down…
Well, things would be different. We might’ve gotten out.
Instinctively, my hand reaches for the diamond pendant at my neck, and moisture floods my eyes when I remember it’s missing. Gone.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so, so sorry. You should be here. You should be with me.”
When the tears start to fall, stinging my cheeks, I realize what I’m doing and furtively check to make sure I’m alone. Iwipe my face and force myself to leave, weaving my way out of the cemetery. By the time I return to the car, Jasmine, Connor, and Maggie are already there.
“Where were you?” Jasmine demands.
“I texted you several times,” my aunt says. She doesn’t sound mad, only concerned. “Was your phone dead?”
“Sorry. I forgot to check it.”
“You need to see the dress I got. It’s hot,” Jasmine says, rummaging through one of several bags at her feet.
“I thought you were just getting earrings,” I say in amusement.
“There’s no such thing as ‘just earrings,’ ” Maggie grumbles under her breath. “C’mon, guys. Let’s go.”
On the ride home, I’m silent, watching the scenery blur past me. When we get back to the house, I grab a zip-up hoodie from the bedroom, then head for the mudroom, swapping my combat boots for sneakers.
“Where are you going?” Jasmine asks from the doorway,
“I want to look for my necklace before it gets dark.”
Her features soften. “Um, look, I know I was a total bitch about it this weekend, but I really am sorry you lost it. I know it was important to you.”
She has no idea. “Thanks.”
“I’d help you look, but Sofia and, ugh”—she makes a face—“Zed are coming by to go over yearbook stuff.”
Even more reason to flee the house. I want nothing to do with Zed and his Gabriel Thorn obsession.
I leave through the side door and head for the trail, desperate for some solitude. As I walk I think of my mother and herbeautiful laugh, the wavy cinnamon hair that framed her face, the way she smelled like vanilla and roses. I have so few memories of her. I had such little time with her.
And it rips me apart to know that if it wasn’t for me, she might be alive today.
twelve
New Blood
I’m running through the forest, screaming for help, the razor-sharp rocks shredding my bare feet.
I know this drill. So although I see the clearing in the woods up ahead, I’m not relieved. I know what’s coming. And yet my feet can’t stop moving there.
It happens the way it always does. Before I can rush forward, hands reach out under my armpits, yanking me back. I look up at the canopy of trees, the birdhouses dangling in a colorful array, framing my father’s serene face as he says “There you are!” and kisses my temple, his fingers tickling my ribs.
I try to escape the tickles, shrieking with laughter. I tip my head to look at him, and that’s when I see them. Dangling from the trees.
Not birdhouses.
Bodies.
