Don't Make a Sound: A Sawyer Brooks Thriller

by T. R. Ragan

  “Thanks.”

  Nate entered the kitchen. The man took up a lot of space. He reminded her of the Brawny guy in the paper-towel commercial. Nate ran a construction business. He always looked the same: jeans, T-shirt, plaid shirt, and work boots. His hair was shaved around the ears, longer on top. He’d grown a beard since she’d seen him last. “Hey, Sawyer.”

  “Hey, Nate.”

  “Lennon!” Harper shouted. “Tell your sister she has five minutes to get in the car!”

  Sawyer gestured toward the sleeping bag and other items near the door. “Is someone going somewhere?” she asked.

  “Ella is off to summer camp first thing in the morning,” Harper said. “She waited until the last minute to pack and realized she didn’t have everything on the supply list she was given.”

  “What are you doing this summer?” Sawyer asked Lennon.

  “I guess I’m working with Dad.”

  “At least you’ll make some money,” Sawyer said as she searched the kitchen cupboards for two small bowls. She filled one with water and the other with a scoop of tuna from the Tupperware she’d found in the refrigerator and set the bowls on the ground, out of the way.

  “Are those for the raccoon?”

  “What raccoon?” Harper asked.

  “Sawyer brought a raccoon inside,” Lennon told his mom.

  Harper scowled. “No, she didn’t.”

  Lennon smirked.

  Harper looked at Sawyer. “Where is it?” Her eyes widened. “And what happened to your neck? You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s not a raccoon. It’s a cat. It has no collar, and its ribs are jutting out,” Sawyer said. “I thought maybe Aria could take it to work with her.”

  “Don’t let her take it to the SPCA,” Lennon protested. “They’ll kill it after three days.”

  “Maybe someone will take him home,” Sawyer told him.

  “Look at you!” he said. “The cat ripped your neck to shreds. Nobody wants a cat like that.”

  Ella raced into the kitchen. “Hi, Sawyer.”

  “Hi, Ella.” Nobody bothered to hug Sawyer. They knew the drill. Say hello. Be cordial. Don’t touch.

  “There’s a cat under my bed,” Ella said. “Can we keep it?”

  “No,” everyone said at once.

  Ella’s head dipped.

  “Off you go,” Harper said, waving everyone toward the front door. “The store is only open for another forty-five minutes.”

  Lennon moaned. “I don’t know why I have to tag along.”

  Harper waved him off. “Just go.”

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Sawyer said when they were gone.

  “Don’t try to change the subject.” Harper ushered Sawyer toward the dinner table and put a plate in front of her as if she were one of her children.

  Sawyer sat down. Beans, rice, and chicken. “I’ll find the cat a home. I promise.”

  Harper sighed. “Do you want hot tea?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Harper plopped down on a stool, took a sip from her mug, and said, “I heard about Gramma Sally.”

  Sawyer lifted a brow. “Who told you?”

  “Dennis left Aria a message,” Harper said without emotion.

  It used to bother Sawyer that Harper referred to their parents by their first names, Dennis and Joyce. But Harper could be like their mother at times—cold and set in her ways. If Sawyer wanted any sort of relationship with her niece and nephew, it was best if she chose her battles with her older sister carefully. “I thought you and Aria no longer talked to Mom or Dad.”

  Harper shrugged. “You know Aria.”

  Yeah, she did. Sweet, forgiving Aria. “The funeral is Friday.”

  “You can’t possibly go.”

  “I’m going,” Sawyer said. “Gramma Sally was the only good thing left in River Rock. I want to say goodbye.”

  “And yet you haven’t been to see her lately, have you?”

  “I don’t want to argue with you. You know I’ve been busy.” Sawyer used to drive back home once a month. Once a month became every other month, and finally once or twice a year. First it was studying that had kept Sawyer away, and then the internship with the Sacramento Independent. The last time she’d seen Gramma was a year and a half ago. By then, Gramma Sally could hardly move and had lost her ability to communicate through words.

  “There’s no way you can make a three-and-a-half-hour drive alone with your anxiety. You told me yourself that the mind does funny things when you have too much time to think.”

  Had she told her sister that?

  “The panic and fear will set in,” Harper went on, “then the dry mouth, nausea, tingling hands. Terrified, you’ll pull to the side of the road to call me. You’ll need me to come get you, and this time I will say no.”

  “That only happened once,” Sawyer reminded her.

  “Twice.”

  “I’ve been working on my anxiety. I’ll be fine. I haven’t had an episode in months.”

  Harper’s gaze roamed freely over her. She was scrutinizing, judging as she often did. “So what happened to you today?”

  Before she had a chance to tell her about Connor, they heard the front door open and close. Aria stepped into the main room where she could see them in the kitchen.

  The last time Sawyer had seen Aria, her hair had been purple. Today it was turquoise. At five foot three, Aria was the shortest of the sisters. She was also the prettiest, and all the tattoos and piercings merely added to her cool, edgy look.

  Aria looked from Harper to Sawyer. “What’s going on?”

  Sawyer lifted a brow as she chewed. Where to start?

  “What did Connor do?” Harper asked as she moved to the sink and began scrubbing perfectly clean porcelain.

  “Oh,” Aria said, as if she’d figured it all out in a matter of seconds. She joined them in the kitchen and took a seat close to Sawyer. “Did Connor mess around with someone else?”

  Sawyer turned to her. “Why would you say that?”

  Aria clamped her mouth shut.

  Sawyer nudged her arm. “Tell me what you know.”

  “Nothing that you don’t know already,” Aria said. “He’s a narcissist. All he wants to do is talk about himself, and he’s the most uninteresting person I’ve ever met.”

  “You told me you liked him.”

  “Did I?”

  “Spit it out,” Harper demanded. “What happened between you and Connor?”

  Sawyer chewed, swallowed, then said, “I went home to get my camera for work and found Connor in bed with another woman.”

  “Awesome,” Aria said. “Now you can move on and forget he was ever in your life. He did you a favor.”

  “You can move in with us,” Harper said, looking at Sawyer as if she could be her newest project.

  Sawyer groaned. They had no idea what she and Connor had been through. It had taken forever for her to trust him enough to let him kiss her and touch her. It disheartened Sawyer to think he’d so casually tossed her trust in him aside. Sawyer set her fork down. “I’m not hungry.” She stood, and Harper took her plate before she could take care of it herself. “I should get my things from my car and make the couch up. I want to be sure I get plenty of sleep before the drive to River Rock.”

  “River Rock?” Aria asked.

  “Yes,” Sawyer said. “I’m going to Gramma’s funeral.”

  Aria blinked. “Why? She’s dead.”

  Sawyer’s head was already throbbing when the cat shot through the house.

  “Was that a raccoon?” Aria asked.

  “It’s a cat I found. He was starving.”

  “You brought a cat with you?”

  “He’s not staying,” Harper chimed in. “I think Nate might be allergic.”

  “Can you take care of him until I get back?” Sawyer asked Aria.

  “Of course.”

  Harper moaned.

  Aria pointed to Sawyer’s neck. “Did the cat do that?”

&nb
sp; Sawyer nodded, then gestured toward the door. “I need to get my things.”

  “So you won’t go to Gramma’s, right?”

  “I have to go. In fact, I need to go. Gramma was my rock. I need to say goodbye.” Sawyer ran a hand through her hair. “What are you two so afraid of anyway? We’re not little kids any longer. Both of you should come with me so we can sit Mom and Dad down and have a real conversation about everything that happened when we were growing up.” Sawyer didn’t mention that she’d be staying to interview people about the Peggy Myers and Avery James murders. She’d save that for another time when she wasn’t exhausted.

  “Did you know that Uncle Theo was released from prison?” Aria asked.

  Sawyer fixed her gaze on Aria. Uncle Theo had gotten fifteen years for aggravated assault after raping and robbing a coworker at the cable company where he worked. Her stomach heaved. “How do you know?”

  “I keep track of these things.”

  “After all Dennis and Joyce put you through, why would you bother trying to talk to them?” Harper asked. “You still don’t get it, do you? They don’t care about any of us. They never did.”

  “Please don’t go,” Aria pleaded, her voice soft.

  Poor, sweet Aria needed to grow a pair.

  Sawyer looked at Harper. “Mom and Dad kept a roof over my head and food in the cabinet. At least they never ran off in the middle of the night, leaving me to fend for myself, never to be seen again.”

  Harper stabbed a finger her way. “That is exactly what Joyce and Dennis did. They were your parents, our parents, and yet they abandoned us all.”

  “Nothing good ever happens in River Rock,” Aria reminded Sawyer.

  Sawyer was at the door, her hand grasped onto the knob. Her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen—a missed call and three texts from Connor. She shut her phone off and shoved it back into her pocket.

  As soon as she stepped outside, she inhaled.

  Once she returned from River Rock, she would need to find an apartment, anyplace but here. She loved her sisters, but sometimes, like now, they made it difficult for her to breathe.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Six o’clock the next morning, Sawyer woke up. At the end of the couch where her toes peeked out, the cat had made himself comfortable. Last night, she’d dreamed the cat had ruined Harper’s couch, and in retaliation Harper had made a coonskin cap out of him. When the cat lifted his head and saw her looking at him, she said, “Hi, Raccoon.”

  Raccoon darted away.

  She got up and trudged to the bathroom down the hallway, brushed her teeth, changed out of the gray sweatpants and back into jeans and a T-shirt, then slipped on a pair of sneakers. In the living room, she quietly tore blankets and sheets from the couch, folded them neatly, and put the cushions back the way she’d found them. Hands on hips, she glanced around to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind. She heard soft footfalls closing in on her.

  “Leaving already?” Harper asked. “I was hoping you would stay for breakfast. You know, say goodbye to Nate and the kids.”

  “I want to get on the road early, before there’s too much traffic. Besides, Mom and Dad might need help with last-minute funeral arrangements.”

  Harper made her way into the kitchen and returned with a brown paper bag like the ones she’d made for the kids.

  “You made me a lunch?”

  “A few snacks and a water bottle to tide you over.” Harper gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make a fresh pot of coffee. If you wait a few minutes, I can send you off with a coffee to go.”

  “Sure,” Sawyer said, unable to turn her down. She followed her sister into the kitchen and took a seat on one of three stools framing one side of the granite island. As Harper readied the coffeepot and started the brewing process, she rambled on about the excessive heat Sacramento had been experiencing and the list of chores she needed to get done.

  “Gramma died,” Sawyer cut in before her sister could read off another to-do list.

  Harper turned her way, clearly perplexed.

  “We,” Sawyer said, “all three of us, used to spend whole weekends at Gramma’s when we were small.” Recalling those times made Sawyer feel a lightness in her chest. “We painted rocks, played tag, and made bouquets of wildflowers. Do you remember?”

  Harper tightened the sash on her robe. “I remember.”

  “Gramma Sally used to talk about you a lot,” Sawyer said.

  Harper snorted. “All good things, I’m sure.”

  “Yes. All good. She always thought you were the most like her.”

  Harper wasn’t having it, and she set about finding a to-go coffee cup for Sawyer. Sawyer noticed the deep frown lines and jerky movements and wondered if the two of them would ever find a way to connect.

  Lennon appeared before any more could be said. “Hey, Aunt Sawyer.”

  Sawyer inwardly scolded herself for bringing up the past. She could tell by the paleness of Harper’s face, and by the way her hands trembled, that she’d upset her. Her sister was fragile.

  “Hey, Lennon,” Sawyer said, giving him her full attention.

  Lennon leaned over to give her a hug and then quickly backed off, trying to be funny.

  It wasn’t.

  “Are you guys fighting again?” Lennon asked.

  “What do you mean, again?” Harper asked him. “This is the first time I’ve seen Sawyer in months.”

  Lennon swept his fingers through his curly mop of dirty-blond hair. “My bad,” he said. “Sorry I said anything.”

  Sawyer ignored them both. Harper filled a to-go cup and slid it across the counter to Sawyer along with some creamer.

  “Do I have to work with Dad today?” Lennon asked his mom.

  “Yes.”

  “All my friends are going to the water park while I’m handing tools and shit to a bunch of old guys.”

  “Watch your language.”

  “Aria swears all the time, and you don’t give her sh—crap.”

  “She’s Aria.”

  After screwing on the lid, Sawyer crooked her neck and looked up at Lennon. “How tall are you now?”

  “Six one.” His eyebrows shot up. “Hey! If you’re going to be living with us for a while—”

  “A few nights at most,” Sawyer cut in.

  Harper crossed her arms. “You don’t like living with us?”

  “It’s not that at all. I just prefer to have a place of my own.”

  “Anyway,” Lennon tried again, “I was thinking maybe you could let me practice driving that beat-up heap of yours?”

  “That’s not a nice thing to say about someone’s car,” Harper scolded.

  “He’s right,” Sawyer said. “Old Suzy is falling apart. She’s a piece of shit—I mean, crap.”

  Harper exhaled heavily as she set about making a cup of coffee for herself.

  “It would be a good car for him to learn to drive in,” Sawyer said. “When I get back, I could take him to the school parking lot.”

  “Lennon and Nate are going to be gone next week, helping Nate’s father with his fence.”

  “Once we’re both back and settled,” Sawyer told Lennon, “I’ll take you driving.”

  “Cool,” Lennon said.

  “I’ll think about it,” Harper said.

  Sawyer stood, grabbed the brown paper bag and coffee. “I should go. Thanks for taking care of Raccoon while I’m gone.”

  “Raccoon?” Harper asked.

  “That’s the cat’s name.”

  Harper sighed.

  Sawyer set her gaze on Lennon. “I’ll see you when you get back from Tahoe. Have fun putting in that fence.”

  Once she was outside, Sawyer breathed in the fresh air. It made her sad to see her sister so rigid and uptight. If Harper could be honest with herself and others and let all her feelings out, the good and the bad, maybe all three of them—Harper, Aria, and Sawyer—could help one another heal properly.

&n
bsp; Aria was of the mind that Harper was riddled with guilt for scaring Uncle Theo off when he’d come to her room, and yet failing to save her sisters. Apparently, Harper had grabbed a pencil from her bedside table and gouged Uncle Theo’s face, making a jagged line from eye to ear, warning him that if he ever touched her or her sisters, she’d go straight to the police.

  Before Aria had related the story, Sawyer had always wondered where Uncle Theo had gotten the scar.

  Now she knew.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On the drive to River Rock, Sawyer nearly turned around twice. Returning to her hometown always left her feeling weighed down by sadness and grief. Sometimes she wondered if she were the only person in River Rock who thought about Peggy Myers and Avery James. And what about Sawyer’s best friend, Rebecca? Was her family still looking for her? Or had life simply moved on without her?

  Sawyer thought of Rebecca all the time. How they used to walk to the park where Sawyer would lie on the grass and watch the clouds make shapes while Rebecca pumped her legs on the swing, her head back and her eyes closed as she floated through air.

  The drive felt longer than Sawyer remembered. The last time she’d visited was eighteen months ago. Although she hadn’t experienced any of the anxiety Harper had prophesized, as soon as she reached Frontage Road, her chest tightened. It was as if something were lodged in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

  She pulled into the gas station up ahead, next to an available pump, figuring she could fill up her tank and take a breather at the same time. She climbed out and slipped her credit card into the slot, then removed the cap from her gas tank.

  “Sawyer Brooks,” she heard someone say.

  She looked up, surprised to see Aspen Burke. She smiled at him, squinting into the sunlight. After Rebecca disappeared, she and Aspen had spent a lot of time together. He looked different. He’d filled out in the chest and shoulders, and his acne was gone. He used to have long, stringy brown hair that fell to his shoulders, but now he had a taper-and-fade cut around the ears, leaving his dark hair longer on top. He wore a short-sleeve tan uniform and a dark-blue flat-bill cap. A badge pinned to his left breast pocket read “Reserve Deputy.”