The doorknob turns. Sticks. Officer Perry draws her gun.
“It’s locked,” Cecily says. “It’s locked, she can’t—”
Ever so slowly, the dead bolt turns. Because they have a key.
The door swings open to reveal Joseph, his face a mask of concern. “Are you kids all right? I saw the livestream, and I saw the police car—”
He spots their terrified stance, the three of them huddling behind Officer Perry. “What’s happening?” Joseph asks. He takes several short steps across the room before Perry straightens herself and levels her gun at him.
“Freeze.”
“It was Mrs. Armstrong,” Rudy says. Why is Officer Perry raising her gun at Joseph? “The realtor—she’s been hiding in the attic—”
Officer Perry shoots him a look over her shoulder. “Stop talking.”
“But we trust him,” Rudy says. “It’s not Joseph.”
“You can’t trust anyone, Rudy. We don’t know for sure who is or isn’t your follower yet,” Perry says. “Can’t trust anyone,” she repeats, as if to herself. Even though Joseph is unarmed and has his arms raised, as if in surrender, Perry doesn’t relax.
“Thank you for coming, Maureen,” Joseph says slowly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
But still Perry doesn’t lower her guard. Rudy feels the tension coming off of her in waves, sees the sweat on her forehead. When she speaks again, her voice is less steady. “We believe that these children may . . . may be in danger. I appreciate your concern, but you need to go . . .” She trails off.
Her eyes fall on the cassette tapes on the table, white and shining in the new light. “What are those?”
At first no one answers, so she repeats her question, only louder this time. Frantic.
“We found them in the house,” Cecily whispers.
Perry shakes her head, as if she’s trying to dislodge a stray thought.
“Joseph, I said—I said go. This is a dangerous situation. Do you want to end up like Alex? Falling and gone? You need to leave, now. It’s . . . police business.” She’s breathing quicker now.
Rudy freezes. Something is very, very wrong.
“No,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm. He can’t let Joseph leave. “Joseph should stay. Uh, as a witness?”
Perry gives her head one rapid shake. “No.”
Rudy slowly backs up toward the kitchen island as an idea begins to form in his mind. Across the room, Joseph has clearly caught on to Rudy’s fear, but all his face broadcasts is confusion. Rudy takes another step backward, until he’s next to the island. His eyes lock with Officer Perry’s. He reaches out his hand and knocks the mixtape to the floor. It hits the ground with a crack.
But not before she lunges for it.
As if she knew it. As if it were something precious.
Flying and falling and gone. Just like on the tape.
The cassette hits the floor. Officer Perry freezes midlunge. Slowly, she raises her eyes from the broken tape on the floor to Rudy’s face.
Then she stands.
“Mrs. Armstrong isn’t coming, is she?” Rudy breathes.
Perry looks at him, and adopts a strange expression. Something almost like . . . relief. She stands up, straight, a far cry from the mousey, note-taking police officer he knew. She gives him a small smile. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” she asks. “Pretending to be someone else. Of course, you three would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” She takes a step forward, casting wide eyes around the kitchen. “I hope you haven’t made a mess. Daddy hates it when you make a mess. This is, after all, his house.”
CHAPTER 32
Amber
Amber watches the officer’s eyes slowly turn on her and her siblings. Her mind tries and fails to wrap around the deception. Perry is Reena?
Reena is Perry.
“Yes,” Perry says. “You’d know a lot about pretending. It’s how you make a living, isn’t it?” She eyes Rudy, still clutching his free weight. “Drop it,” she says, gesturing her gun first at Rudy, then at Amber and Cecily. “You, too. No one is going to try anything.” Rudy obeys. The free weight seems to echo as it rolls across the floor.
Amber’s heart is beating fast—too fast. Next to her, Cecily sways as if she’s about to topple over. Amber makes a move to help her sister, and Perry waves the gun at her, letting her know what will happen if she tries.
Perry shakes her head at them. “In thirteen years, no one has ever suspected I was here. Until you. And you. Wouldn’t. Leave.”
Amber tries to think of something to save them, and then she realizes—their plan. They could still pull off the original plan to livestream Reena, to expose her. Slowly, Amber reaches into her pocket for her phone.
Rudy spots her. Their eyes meet for a brief moment and understanding passes between them.
“You’re Frank Glenarm’s daughter,” he says, drawing Perry’s attention. “Reena.”
“Reena,” she corrects, stressing the Ree. Of course, Amber realizes. Maureen. Reena. It had been a nickname. But now Reena is someone else entirely. “I haven’t heard someone call me by that name, well, since I changed it. Right after I aged out of the system.”
“Why?” Rudy asks.
Reena raises an eyebrow and brings her gun to eye level, examining it with a detached gaze. “The daughter of Frank Glenarm would have caused ripples when she came back to town. This place had forgotten about me. I saw no need to make it remember. No need to draw attention to the fact that this house has been occupied for the last thirteen years.”
Amber unlocks her phone—slowly, slowly . . .
“That was you. Singing. On the tape,” Rudy says. Amber’s hands are shaking. She fumbles to open Instagram. Cecily sends her a pleading look. Amber wants to tell her this is their only shot.
“You shouldn’t have listened,” Reena snaps. “If I had known that one of my tapes made it into that box of junk, I would have finished this a long time ago.”
“You—how old are you?” Rudy asks.
“You mean how young was I?” Reena asks. “I was twelve. No one suspected a thing.”
Joseph takes a few
