EIGHTY-THREE
Pine Hill
Tilly stared at her brother in shock.She barely recognized him.He was a man now, not a gangly teenager and at least a foot taller than her. His voice had changed and was deep and masculine, too. But his gray eyes were still just as deep and disturbing as she remembered.
For a brief second, she wanted to hug him and welcome him home and back into her life. But suspicions from the past lurked in the corners of her mind. And with two more girls’ bodies discovered…
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said with narrowed eyes.
Tilly’s chest heaved as she steadied her breathing. “You scared me,” she said. “What are you doing breaking in here?”
“The same thing you’re doing in this town,” he said. “Now get dressed while I make coffee and we can talk.” He paused at the door. “And please don’t call the police on me, Tilly Willy.”
Her heart melted as an image of Hayden riding her piggyback on the grass flashed back. They’d caught fireflies in mason jars and skipped stones in the pond and he’d even helped her with a school project when hers had fallen apart.
And he hadn’t called her that nickname since they were children. “Okay,” she murmured. She just hoped she didn’t regret it.
He gave a nod, his expression softening slightly, then he left the room and closed the door behind him.
Tilly shoved her hair from her face, grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, ran to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth and combed the tangles from her hair. For a heartbeat, she saw herself as a teenager in the mirror, pretty Ruth standing beside her smiling as she dabbed on lip gloss. Ruth, the pretty, popular one. Her, the shy bookish girl with very few friends, always in the shadows.
Hayden, the troublemaker, acting out, arguing with their father, punching the wall when he was angry. Then the drinking.
Nerves twisted her stomach.Get it together, Tilly.You’re not that young girl anymore.
She splashed cold water on her face, dried it with a hand towel, then inhaled several calming breaths like her therapist had taught her. She didn’t know what to expect but if Hayden had wanted to hurt her, he could have done it while she was asleep.
Still, the painful memories clawed at her as she went into the kitchen. The heavenly aroma of coffee wafted toward her. Hayden stood at the counter with a mug in his hand, sipping it as he stared out the window. His look said he was a million miles away.
“I can’t believe they kept this place,” he murmured.
“I know. I guess they thought if Ruth was alive and came back looking for them, it would be here as a sign they hadn’t given up. The landline is still intact with the same phone number.”
“Figures.” He closed his eyes for a second, released a disgruntled sigh, and scrubbed his hand over his face. She could feel the frustration and disappointment and pain in that sound.
Tilly gave him a moment to process the fact that he was back in their childhood home. She didn’t know if it was cathartic or just agonizing. For her it was a mixture of both.
When he opened his eyes, he squared his shoulders as if trying to shake off the past. But she had a feeling they’d followed him just as hers had.
He pinned her with searching eyes. “Are you afraid of me, Tilly?”
Was she? “No,” she said calmly. “But I do have questions.”
He considered that for a moment then nodded. “Fair enough. Get some coffee and we’ll sit down and talk.” He stepped aside for her to reach the coffee maker then sat down at the kitchen table and waited quietly.
She stalled, dumping a pack of sweetener in her cup then carried it with her and seated herself across from him.
“How are you, sis?” he asked, genuine concern in his tone. “What have you been doing all this time?”
Small talk. She could manage that. “After you left, things were hard,” she said. “I was mad at you for leaving me behind.”
Regret flared in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I… was messed up in the head already. Then Dad turned on me and the police put me under the ringer, and I couldn’t handle it.”
Tilly sipped her coffee, grateful for the caffeine punch. “I know they were tough on you, Hayden. Dad pressured you to be perfect and wanted you to follow in his footsteps in politics and they doted on Ruth?—”
“She could do no wrong,” he agreed with a wry smile.
Tilly rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she was definitely the child they wanted.” Although Ruth had had her sweet moments when they were younger. When Tilly was five and her mother was too busy to read to her at night, Tilly would cuddle with Ruth and her sister would read her story after story.
