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She pondered that for a moment before giggling and nodding in agreement.
“If I pull her prints from that cup, I might find something I don’t like.”
“There’s no might about it, Grif. We both know you will.” She stood up, pointing to the cup. “Let me know when you have the results. I’ll be there with you when you talk to her about it.”
Having his sister’s approval didn’t lessen the rapid beat of his heart.
He pulled prints from the cup and ran them.
He had been right.
He didn’t like the results.
8
The week rolled by fast,bringing Saturday around once again. Instead of hanging out grilling and playing games at Bryce’s house, Griffin decided to host. Eve put the potato salad she made yesterday in the fridge, then joined Juliet outside. Bryce had yet to arrive.
She took a seat next to Juliet, who’d been quiet the last three days. Not her usual bubbly self. Eve had asked her once if everything was okay, and while Juliet had confirmed it was, Eve sensed she had lied. She’d know, since she did it so often herself.
“When’s Bryce getting here? He’s normally so punctual.”
Juliet shook her head as if shaking off the aftereffects of daydreaming. “Oh, I didn’t call him. I should’ve.”
Odd. Eve assumed this would be a repeat of last weekend. Griffin hadn’t ventured outside yet. She didn’t know where he was. Juliet had let her in, then walked outside in the backyard without chatting. While she’d seen Griffin in the cafe for lunch, she hadn’t spent any time with him after work like she normally did.
Something was very wrong.
“Where’s Griffin?”
Juliet looked at her as if confused by the question. Something was going on and she didn’t like it.
Eve stood up. Juliet followed suit.
Both of them turned to the sound of the sliding door opening. Griffin stepped out holding a manila folder.
Tension rolled around her shoulders. Anxiety coursed through her veins. The need to run slammed into her chest.
“Why don’t we all sit, Eve?” Juliet smiled, though Eve heard the tension in her voice.
“What’s going on here?”
“I think we should—”
“No!” Eve shouted, cutting off Griffin. “Tell me what’s going on here. What’s in the folder?”
They stared at each other, waiting for the other to start.
Griffin finally answered by pulling out a piece of paper and laying it on the table. Her driver’s license photo from Florida stared back at her.
Evelyn Carrington.
The truth was out.
“Evelyn—”
She recoiled at the sound of her full name on Griffin’s lips, stumbling back, nearly tumbling to the ground when she tripped on her feet.
“Please don’t call me that,” she whispered, unable to look either of them in the eye.
