PROLOGUE
A loud boom startles me, and I turn to my husband, Paul, instantly annoyed. “Does the Village have fireworks again tonight?” We just started the latest Succession episode, and I have to pay close attention, or I’m lost. I can’t do that if fireworks are popping off for the next thirty minutes.
He shrugs, brushing his brown hair off his forehead and tucking it behind his ears. “I don’t think so. I thought they were done after spring break.”
The Village is the outdoor mall at the center of our close-knit suburban community, and they’re constantly throwing events in their outdoor space. Most of them end in fireworks.
“I really hope they’re not.” I’ve been looking forward to this night all week. Even though Paul and I work together, it’s been almost three weeks since we’ve had any alone time. A surge of desire passes through me. It’s hard to believe I can still be attracted to him after more than twenty years together, but he’s sexier now than he was when we were in high school.
“It’s—” Another blast shatters the air, cutting him off.
“That one really sounded like a gun.” Fear crawls up my spine. My mouth is instantly dry. I move to stand, and Paul jerks me back to the couch. “It was a gun, wasn’t it?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sure it wasn’t, but just chill out and wait a second before you start running all over the house like a crazy person.”
“Should we get Reese?” I motion upstairs. We banished our youngest son, Reese, to his room for the night, and Sawyer’s sleeping over at his best friend Caleb’s house.
“No, he’s fine. He probably didn’t hear a thing with his headphones on, so I doubt he’s even worried.” He throws his arm over my shoulder. “This is why we need to stay off social media. Reading all that garbage makes us too jumpy.” He waits a few beats before pressing play on the remote and pulling me back against him on the couch. We’re halfway through the show recap when we hear the sound of approaching sirens.
This time we both fly to our feet.
“Reese!” Paul yells. “Get down here!”
No response.
“I’m going to get him,” Paul says as he turns around and thunders up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Red and blue lights flash through our living room windows. The emergency vehicles turn left. Headed to the street behind us.
The street behind us.
Sawyer.
I race to the dining room table, grab my phone, and quickly pull up his number from my favorites. I wait for the ring, but his phone goes straight to voice mail. I call back.
Same thing.
Reese’s and Paul’s footsteps echo above me. Their muffled voices move through the house as I wait for his message to end so I can leave mine. “Sawyer, honey, this is your mom. I hope one of you boys heard those noises outside. We think they were gunshots, and now there’s lots of emergency vehicles headed your way. So be safe. Okay? Just be safe. Please, honey. And call me.”
I press end just as more sirens approach and Paul returns with Reese. His eyes are wild, and his video game headset dangles from his neck. “I’m going over there to check on them,” I say, moving past them.
“Going where? What are you talking about?” Paul asks.
“Sawyer isn’t answering his phone, and all the police are going toward Caleb’s street,” I say, slipping my shoes on and then opening the front door. “I just want to make sure they’re okay.”
“You can’t go out there!” Paul yells.
“What if there’s a crazy shooter?” Reese asks at the same time.
I ignore them and step outside before shutting the door tightly behind me. Three police cars race down the street and make a left at the corner just like all the others. I take off running. People are coming out of their houses, milling down the street while I sprint past them.
Dear God, please don’t let anything happen to my baby.
Around the corner. Almost there. My lungs burn.
Please, God.
Emergency vehicles surround Caleb’s house. They’re everywhere. The entire block is lit. I run as fast as I can, pushing through the throngs of people gathered outside until I’m almost to their front yard.
“Ma’am, you can’t come any closer,” a police officer calls out.
“My son!” I point to the Schultzes’ house as officers with SWAT printed on their backs roll out the yellow tape to surround it. “My son is inside!” I move around him, but he steps in front of me, stretching his arms out wide on each side to form a barricade with his body.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you pass through.” His face is grim, set in stone.
“Please, he’s in that house.”
He shakes his head. “You’re going to have to wait and speak with my supervisor.”
I can’t wait. There’s no time. Adrenaline shoots through me. I turn and bolt, running in the opposite direction.
The back way. I’ll go around. Cut through the Hammonds’.
Please, God, let my baby be okay.
Two squad cars block the Hammonds’ driveway. I creep behind the sand palms and alongside the shrubs until I reach the porch, feeling like a fugitive. I race up the stairs and rap on the door. Eloise opens it immediately, her dark robe tightened around her waist.
“Kendra?” She raises her eyebrows. “What are you doing out there?”
“El, please, you have to let me go through your house and into your backyard,” I say breathlessly as my heart thumps in my chest.
Her face fills with fear. “You can’t go in our backyard. The police said to stay inside and not do anything. We’re supposed to lock our doors and wait for further instructions.”
“Sawyer is over there.” Desperation lines every word. “He stayed overnight at Caleb’s.”
Her hand goes to her mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Kendra.”
“That’s why I need to get over there.”
“You can’t. It’s too dangerous.” She shakes her head.
“I have to.” I shove her against the doorframe and push past her. Someone grabs me from behind. Muscular arms encircle me.
“I can’t let you do that.” A deep, gruff voice. The same officer as before.
“Please, my son. I have to see my son.” I writhe in his arms. Tears stream down my cheeks. Snot bubbles from my nose.
His walkie-talkie springs to life.
“Coroner on-site in five. Perimeter sealed,” it crackles.
Please, God, let my baby be okay.
ONE
LINDSEY
TWO WEEKS LATER
I slam the trash compactor shut and toss my plate in the sink. I’m too angry to eat. My phone rests on the granite countertop, where I left it after getting Dani’s text. The screen has long since gone dark—too much time to reply—but what was I supposed to say? We agreed no lawyers. That was part of the plan.
It has only been a day since the funeral. How could she? But it’s probably easier for her to worry about lawyers and things like that when her son, Caleb, is safely tucked in his bed at home tonight, unharmed.
The dog’s nails dig into my calf. “Get off me,” I snap, and he recoils like I’ve slapped him, tucking his tail between his legs and cowering next to my feet. “Go!” I point to the living room. His ears droop as he slinks underneath the kitchen table to hide. I try summoning up guilt, but I’m too tired. I should’ve just stayed at the hospital with Jacob, but my husband, Andrew, said that it was important for me to spend time with our other kids.