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“Guns?” Marjorie scoffs. “There aren’t any guns here.”
“You told Carina you had an arsenal and weren’t afraid to use it.”
“Wha…” Marjorie sounds perplexed. There’s a long pause. “That’s not true. I swear. And I didn’t send any notes or threats. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Lenna glances at Sarah. Likely story.
“Please,” Marjorie says desperately. “The weather—dust storms kill people. And I can’t call 911. We just tried. The number is blocked.”
“Yeah, we know.Youblocked it.”
“Me?I wouldn’t do that. There are children! You have to believe me. Look, what happened with Carina was wrong. I admit that, freely. I pushed her to stay. Pushed her hard. Said things I shouldn’t have. I even spread misinformation about her within the group because…I knew I fucked up, and I was too afraid to admit it. But I swear—this isn’t a trend. I’m just trying to build a nice community here. I believe in this place. I didn’t write her any letters, and there aren’t any guns. And if Rhiannon is missing—I want to help. You shouldn’t be afraid. I’m on your side.”
“Lenna,” Sarah suddenly says, tugging Lenna’s sleeve.
Lenna shakes her off. “But you know things about us. And Rhiannon. You’re keeping us locked in here. You’re withholding the car, withholding freedoms.”
“That’s for your safety!”
“Lenna,” Sarah says, poking her again.
“Where are you?” Marjorie shouts. “We’ll come. Just tell us.”
Lenna chews on her lip. Will she help, or is this a trap?
But before she can decide, the call goes dead. Dust swirls into their little nook, and Lenna shuts her eyes.
“Lenna,” Sarah urges one more time. Now the dog is growling, too.
Lenna finally turns to face her. Sarah’s gaze is on something down the ravine. The color has drained from her cheeks. “Someone’s down there.”
“What? Who? Marjorie?”
“N-no.” She turns to Lenna with haunted eyes. “Someone else.”
32
Rhiannon
October
One day before
Rhiannon’s hand trembled as she dialed the number to make a reservation for Lenna at the motel up north. A woman answered, and she repeated back Lenna’s ATM card number.
“And, oh,” Rhiannon added, “do you have a crib?”
Afterward, she hung up and tried to breathe as she walked, searching for Marjorie. The heat was suffocating. She was tramping halfway up Chiricahua Peak, thinking it would give her a good vantage. This property stretched for miles, and the desert all looked the same.
She was also still trying to process what Lenna had told her. The fear in her friend’s eyes.
Lenna was afraid of Sarah. It was like Lenna haddonesomething to her. Sarah wasn’t a very open person, but she never mentioned abuse or assault. The only thing Rhiannon really knew that had happened to Sarah was that her friend had died in a terrible accident. That was the only information the voice on the phonegave her. Before she left to talk to Sarah, Rhiannon had tried to look into it. But she hadn’t found any details.
The sun beat down on her head as she walked. Her phone barely had a signal, but she typed in the search anyway—death, Runyon Canyon, hiker.To her surprise, stories popped up that she swore she hadn’t seen before when she’d searched at the house. One story caught her eye. Of the four accidents that had happened in Runyon Canyon in 2021, one of the women who’d fallen was named Gillian Winters. The person to report her missing was Dr. Sarah Wasserman.
“Oh fuck,” Rhiannon whispered, stopping short.
Gillian. The same Gillian. The woman Lenna had become friends with, the one Rhiannon had blocked from becoming friends with them. She was dead. In fact, for a little while, it looked like the police suspected she’d been murdered—and Sarah was a suspect. But then it was deemed an accident. A wet morning, a terrible fall.
