Her mother nodded. “In the kitchen.”
They entered the room and Sienna crossed to the large window across from the table. She opened the blinds and light streamed in, falling across the oak tabletop.
“That is nice,” her mother said. “Besides, if someone sneaks into the backyard, it’s better to know they’re there.”
Sienna let that pass, and her mother went to the pantry. “Are you sure you don’t want a cookie? I have Oreos. Your favorite.”
The offer made Sienna smile. She hadn’t had an Oreo in years. And truthfully, hadn’t even thought of having one. “You go ahead, Mom. I’m not hungry. You want water? Or milk?”
She said milk, and while Sienna got out glasses and filled them, her mother arranged cookies on a plate. They carried them to the table and sat down, taking the seats that had always been theirs: her mother at one end, her dad at the other, and she and Brad across from each other.
Her mother reached for a cookie and her sleeve hiked up, revealing an ugly bruise that ran from her hand to her elbow, disappearing under the sleeve.
“Oh my God, Mom. You’ve hurt yourself.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Sienna said, recalling how she winced earlier. “What happened?”
“She fell,” Brad said, entering the kitchen. He crossed to the table and plucked two cookies from the plate.
Sienna frowned. “What do you mean fell? Where?”
“Down the stairs. Caught her toe on carpeting that had come loose.” He popped an entire cookie in his mouth. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”
Sienna looked at her mother. “You fell down the stairs? When did this happen?”
Brad answered, reaching for another of the sandwich cookies. “A couple months ago. Right, Viv?” She nodded, and he went on, “In the middle of the night. I had the carpet at the top landing refastened the very next day. And added a safety light.”
He sounded so casual about it. Like falling down the stairs was no big deal.
Sienna felt far from casual. “What were you doing up in the middle of the night, Mom?”
She shrugged. “I was hungry. I wanted a snack.”
Brad checked his watch. “If you’ve got everything you need, sis, I’m going to head back to the office.”
Sienna nodded and stood. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Thanks.” He looked back. “Bye, Viv.”
She didn’t respond, and Sienna followed him to the front door and out to the porch, closing the door behind her. She caught his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me about her fall?”
“There was nothing to tell. She’s fine, thank God. Sprained wrist and some bruising. I had the problem corrected and added safety lights. What’s the big deal?”
“I had a right to know.”
“It wasn’t that serious, I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Stop trying to protect me, Brad.”
“With pleasure.” He was angry. She saw it in the flush that stained his cheeks and the tight line of his jaw. He freed his arm and stepped away from her. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“You said that already.”
“It needs saying again. Because I don’t think I have the bandwidth to pick up the pieces if you don’t.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
2:25 P.M.
Sienna returned to the kitchen to find her mother gone. “Mom?” she called. Her mother didn’t reply, so she called again, making her way through the downstairs. The living room. Her father’s study. She even peeked in the bathroom and out at the patio—although why her mom would have headed out into the cold, she didn’t know.
She went to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. “Mom? Are you up there?”
Although her mother didn’t answer, Sienna acknowledged that of course she was. There was nowhere else she could be.
She started up. The upstairs hallway was dark as night, and when she reached the upstairs landing she saw why: every window on the second floor had been covered with blackout shades.
She started toward her old bedroom. The door stood partially open and a sliver of light spilled into the hall. Soft sounds of movement came from inside.
A heavy sensation settled in her chest. Her heart beat wildly around it, making it difficult to catch her breath. She found each step akin to another crank of a jack-in-the-box, and with each a growing anxiety for what was going to jump out at her.
Sienna stopped at the door, pushed it the rest of the way open. And found her mother bent over her open suitcases.
“Mom! What are you doing?”
She looked up. And smiled, her expression serene. “I’m unpacking you, sweetheart.”
“I can do that myself. Please leave it.” Sienna hadn’t meant for the words to come out so sharply, so she softened the next. “But thank you, anyway. I appreciate the thought.”
“You’re welcome.” She stood and crossed to sit on the edge of the bed. She smoothed a hand over the pink coverlet. “How do you like your room? I kept it just the way you left it.”
Before her mother pointed it out, Sienna hadn’t noticed, but it was exactly how she left it. Exactly.
She moved her gaze over the room. The bed was neatly made and, unlike downstairs, the furniture was dust free. She crossed to the corkboard above her desk. Ten-year-old notes to herself, a photo from her high school graduation, another with a group of friends. A crumbling corsage. Tickets stubs from a Nickelback concert. A calendar hung on it as well, open to April. She skimmed her notations—classes, work schedule, a psychiatric appointment.
She stopped on April tenth. The day she had been shipped off to London.
She hadn’t even finished out the school semester. She frowned. Things had gotten that bad. She had gotten that bad.
Sienna shifted her gaze to the desktop. Homework in process. Her psychology text, open to a chapter on Axis I disorders. Other papers were scattered across its surface, as were several pens and a highlighter. She slid open the drawer on the right, wondering if it would still be there.
It was. Her journal. It had been a Christmas gift that year. After Madison’s murder, she’d begun daily recording her thoughts and feelings.
Sienna slid the drawer shut. “It feels so strange,” she murmured. “Being back.”
She looked over her shoulder at her mother to find she wasn’t even watching her, just staring at the open suitcase.
Her mother hadn’t been unpacking her, Sienna realized. She had been looking for something. A bug, maybe?
“We have to be careful, Sienna. They’re always watching. Always listening.”
Sienna gave herself a mental shake. Her mother had the right to zone out, didn’t she? It didn’t mean she was on her way down the rabbit hole.
“What did you say, sweetheart?”
“Nothing important.” Sienna began unpacking. She had taken the majority of her clothes with her when she left for London, so the closet and dresser drawers were mostly empty. She started filling the drawers first.
“Would you like me to hang these shirts?” her mother asked.
“That would be great. Thanks, Mom.”
They worked together for a few minutes, the only sounds those of hangers being hung and drawers opening and closing.