“Was she shot?” I asked, because Daniel had access to Dad’s gun, and he’d been chasing her through the woods. Because I’d found that purse buckle near the river, where Daniel said he’d lost her, and he had her key, which must’ve been inside her bag.

Tyler nodded. “This family found her—the kids had run off after pictures and . . .” He tugged his fingers through his hair, leaving the thought. “This guy I work with, his wife works dispatch, and she got the call. I tried to get there first when I heard. I tried.”

“Oh, God,” I said. “Daniel?”

“I don’t know, Nic,” he said, but he wouldn’t look at me when he said it.

Everett was probably at the airport by now. I couldn’t call to ask for advice again—not about this, and not after everything else.

What was Daniel thinking? The body, all the evidence, leading right back to him. And Annaleise . . . Jackson had told me there were rumors, that Laura had left Daniel for a time because of them. The rumors would spin to fact, into motive, in someone else’s hands. I knew my brother could fall for the wrong person—he’d done it once before—but I couldn’t imagine Daniel allowing Annaleise to take his picture if he’d truly been seeing her. Except someone had gone through her computer late at night, deleting images from months earlier. I’d heard his steps through the woods, seen his shadow in her home. Someone who knew his way in the dark, in these woods, by heart. Daniel. Annaleise must’ve taken them when he wasn’t looking or when he was sleeping. Like all those pictures I’d seen in her files, pictures of girls caught unaware. They had no idea someone was watching. Annaleise, with her big wide eyes behind the camera, fading into the background. You’d never know she caught you.

He should’ve been smarter than this.

Daniel had reached her at the river and grabbed her purse, and the buckle broke. He took her purse, her phone. He must have buried it all somewhere or ditched it in his car, because I knew he didn’t have it when he met up with us again behind the house. He’d kept her house key, which was now tucked away in my father’s slipper. Add my brother to the missing gaps, and the story begins to take shape.

He must’ve found her and . . .

But no. Wait. I knew Annaleise had gotten away from him. Followed the river. Reached the motel and shimmied through the back window before calling Daniel again. From the hotel phone, because hers was in her purse.

I didn’t understand. Why had she called Daniel’s house? She’d been trying to get away from him. Daniel was probably here, anyway. It made no sense. But I’d stood in that motel room, and I’d hit redial, and I’d heard the machine: Laura’s voice, cheerful and welcoming, dancing through my head: You’ve reached the Farrells . . .

Laura. Not Daniel’s cell. Annaleise had called the house, knowing Daniel wasn’t there.

She had called Laura. My hand rose to my mouth in sudden understanding.

“It’s not Daniel,” I whispered. Tyler nodded, staring at the mess around him, but I wasn’t sure if he believed me or if he thought this was just me, hoping.

But I could feel it all coming together—could see all the pieces lining up in reverse.

Annaleise’s whole world was shrinking to a point, and this must’ve been the only card she had left. Her only way out. Tell Laura. Tell her about her dangerous husband, his dangerous family. No need for the blackmail pictures to come into it if she could convince Laura to come forward instead.

Where’s your husband right now? I can tell you. Chasing me through the woods to keep me silent. He has my purse. My phone. It’s not safe for you. Someone in that house killed Corinne Prescott. You must know that.

I tried to imagine Laura picking up the phone, listening to Annaleise. Would she believe her? Would she listen? Daniel had said Laura wasn’t home when he got back—that she’d probably gone to her sister’s place. That she was upset. She’d done that before, if rumors were to be believed.

But what if she hadn’t? What if she’d answered that call and listened? What would she do?

What if my brother had been telling the truth: that he followed Annaleise to the river, and then he lost her. His arm reaching out, fingers grasping the edge of her bag, and yanking. The handle breaking, the purse dropping, the buckle lost in the mud. All he had was her purse, her phone, her key. And he’d hidden it all, and waited.

As the days passed and she didn’t reappear, he must’ve felt that net closing. All the secrets, threatening to shake loose—then and now. He used her key to check for evidence at her place, to go through her files, deleting himself from her history as the investigation gained force. Hid the key after in his desk just in case, where he figured Laura wouldn’t look—and where I’d found it. The only thing my brother had been trying to cover up was the rumored affair. He knew, as well as I did, what it could lead to.

But somehow Annaleise ended up dead in a field of sunflowers. Just lying there.

Daniel would’ve buried her. Brought the body to one of his abandoned sites. But Laura . . .

I closed my eyes and saw it all sliding into focus:

Laura picking Annaleise up from the motel—Where are you? I’ll come and get you—with Dad’s gun in the glove compartment. Laura driving her out toward Johnson Farm, away from town, just driving around—so we can talk—listening to Annaleise accuse her husband and her husband’s family. Laura, who had already started a list of slights. The rumors about Annaleise, or maybe more, that had made her leave Daniel for a while months earlier; and now this. This woman, threatening to take down everything Laura had planned. Laura, who was eight months pregnant and had an entire life stretching out before her: one that included Daniel. She was so close, she could see it. The life she wanted, the life she was owed.

Laura, who could not dig a garden, let alone bury a body, but needed a place to get this woman away from her family.

Daniel was right—I underestimated Laura. I underestimated how fiercely she loved my brother, my family, her future. I underestimated the lengths everyone here would go to for each other.

I underestimated how much I wanted to come back.

* * *

TYLER LOOKED OUT THE window because the sirens were getting louder. A shudder ran through him.

“I tried to get there first, Nic. I did get there first. I was trying to find the ring, but I heard the sirens, and I ran . . . I ran out of time.”

“It’s okay,” I said. The sirens were closer, moving with purpose, and Tyler was trembling in the middle of the kitchen.

“No, it’s not okay.” His hands shook. Did he touch her? He must have. “They found—” He ran both hands down his face.

“They found the ring?” I asked, my vision turning hazy.