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"Hannah was our housekeeper. She started working for us when we moved back to Westbridge until she..." Mom won’t make eye contact with Dad. "Until she was killed in our house."
"What the fuck?" My gaze jerks back and forth between my parents. So many questions assault my brain at once. How is this possible? "When was this? Why have I never heard of this person, let alone that someone killed her in our house?"
Mom has herself back under control and swipes at her smudged eye makeup. "We didn't want to worry you when it happened. Hannah would always come during the day when you were in school. It was easier for her to get her job done in an empty house. We never thought twice about the arrangement. Dad had her checked out, and we trusted her. We didn't have any reason to be concerned. She knew the alarm code and would arm it once she left." She draws in a shuddering breath and stares at the opposite wall. "One day, three years ago, the security company called us that the alarm was triggered. I was in the city. Dad went home to check on it and..." She trails off, fresh tears running down her face.
"I found her in the hallway," my father continues with a more subdued tone—so he was affected by it, after all. "She must've been able to hit the alarm button on the panel before she died. It happened on a Thursday, and I told Mom to take you straight to Grandma's house for a few days while I took care of everything. We excused the three of you from school, and since you always had clothes at Grandma's, it was easy to manage."
Holy shit, I remember that day. Mom came to pick us up from school and said it was a surprise trip.
"At the time, we were worried that it would trigger something in Lilly's memory, or you would let something slip about her past." He looks at me apologetically.
I narrow my eyes at him. "Oh-kay." Something in his story doesn't add up. Why would that trigger Lilly's memory? Traumatize, maybe, but what was she supposed to remember? "Sooo...someone broke into the house while Hannah was cleaning and off'd her. Why did that make you put in cameras in every single room in the house?"
Mom crosses her arms over her chest, avoiding Dad’s gaze.
"The...person came back," my father finally declares.
The Person. The Killer. My eyes nearly bug out of their sockets, and I feel like trying to breathe underwater. This is fucking insane.
At his words, my mother’s posture stiffens. Did she not know about that? Is that what they were fighting about? Besides the cameras?
"The police had already released the crime scene, and I had a cleaning crew go over the entire house. Mom was supposed to bring the three of you back the next day."
"What happened?" I choke the words out.
Dad exhales slowly. "I got another call from the security company. Someone had entered the house with the old code and triggered the alarm again. I had them disarm it and told them one of the kids must've triggered it by accident since we just changed it. I was at a meeting nearby, but when I got to the house, it was empty. We had cameras in the entryway and on all doors leading outside—something I’ve installed in all our houses since Lilly came to live with us. I pulled up the footage and saw the intruder exiting the house. She had several personal items with her, including Bobo."
She. Bobo. My thoughts are a jumbled mess my brain is scrambling to put in order.
"Lilly's bear? Why on earth—"
My father holds up a hand. "That’s when I put the system in place. The person came back and stole personal items. I promise, it was a mere precaution, to be able to trace every step of a possible intruder if that would’ve happened again."
I study his face for several breaths, trying to wrap my head around why someone would kill our housekeeper and steal an old-as-fuck, ugly bear. Or would come back a third time, for that matter. Then something else clicks. "Why didn’t you hand the footage over to the police?"
"It wouldn't have been of any use. They wouldn't have found anything."
"But you knew who it was." I'm not asking.
"The video feed never showed the person’s full face." My mother, who has remained quiet the entire time, doesn’t deny my statement.
"Let me guess, you are not going to tell me who you think it was." Sarcasm drips from my voice. Even now, we're keeping up the damn secrets.
When neither of them speaks, it’s clear that that is Dad's way of shutting down the conversation.
I turn and leave the office without a backward glance.
Guess I'm keeping my secrets as well.
I’ve justscarfed down the third protein bar when my phone buzzes twice next to me on the mattress—text message. Tapping the screen, I scan the two words. The fuck?
OPEN ME.
The grudge-holding toddler in me wants to flip the small device the bird and ignore it. I pick up the game controller but then place it back down. Aww...shit, I can't do it. Taking the phone, I swipe the text open and tilt my head. It's empty. Seriously?
I still stare at the screen when an incoming video call pops up: LILLY.
My heart begins to pound in my chest. I briefly close my eyes before accepting the call.
