“The Allards. Daniel and Jo. They actually own that house—”
“Oh, I know.” His tone is clipped, causing me to look up sharply.
“That property shares the hedge that Yumi saw some guy go through.”
He nods. “Exactly. Aneighbor.”
I know exactly what he’s wondering when he says that word.
“I wonder if they were home the Saturday that Yumi saw someone go through the hedge,” I say. “I mean, their whole back wall is practically glass. Maybe they saw something.”
“I have to admit that I looked for a paper calendar in their house but didn’t find one.”
“Most people are totally digital now.” I twist the leash around my hand, mind racing with possibilities. “But I think I know a way to check.” I straighten up, an idea forming as I speak. “Jo puts everything on Instagram. I could go back and look. I swear she doesn’t go a day without posting.”
We agree to touch base later, and I watch him walk away, his silhouette receding down the street. A tiny spark of hope flickers in me, not just because my memories have started to come back, but because of Finn. At a time in my life when I am saying goodbye to so many things, I relish saying hello.
Besides, Finn is the only person I know who seems to really believe me.
TWENTY-FOUR
Once inside the house, I find Miguel and Rachel at the kitchen island, eating lunch and chatting. From the scent of basil and olive oil that hangs in the air, I’m guessing that Miguel has made Rachel’s favorite—linguine with pesto.
“Hi, guys,” I say, unleashing the dog. Kugel’s nails click across the hardwood floor as he heads over to his water bowl and starts slurping.
Miguel looks up, his dark eyes warm but questioning. A faint line appears between his brows—the one that always forms when he’s concerned but trying not to show it. “How long have you guys been gone?” he asks. “I was starting to wonder where you were.”
“We were at Yumi’s.” The lie—or at least the omission—comes out more easily than I would like. I don’t want to talk about the house and the blood on the carpet in front of Rachel. My daughter’s face is bright and relaxed, the camping trip having scrubbed away the usual teenage angst that often clouds her features. I pass by her, stooping to give her a kiss on the backof her head, breathing in the scent of her coconut shampoo. Before pulling away, I squeeze her shoulder gently, a quiet reassurance to myself that she’s really here, safe and whole. Then I grab a bowl from the drawer and help myself to the pasta.
“What about you?” I ask. “I thought you went into the office today?”
“I did.” Miguel’s voice has that carefully casual tone he uses when he’s orchestrated something he thinks will make me happy. “But I thought I’d take the rest of the day off and hang out with my favorite daughter.”
Rachel rolls her eyes at the tired joke, but the smile tugging at her lips hints at the joy of being the center of his attention. “We’re going to play tennis later,” she says, twirling her fork in her pasta, a gesture so reminiscent of her childhood self that my heart contracts.
“Sounds like fun.” And I mean it, even if a tiny part of me wishes they had made a plan that included me. The exclusion stings in a way that feels childish, but real nonetheless. “I should probably rest anyway,” I say, settling onto the stool across from them.
“Why?” Rachel asks. Her eyes narrow slightly. She’s always been perceptive, able to sense when something’s off. “What’s going on?”
Neither Miguel nor I answer immediately. The silence stretches a few moments until Rachel breaks it. “What?” Her voice rises slightly. “Just tell me. Are you sick, Mom?” Fear flickers across her face, making her look younger than her eighteen years.
“No, honey, I’m fine.”
“Please don’t lie to me. When Aida’s mom got cancer, theydidn’t tell her for months. I’m an adult now. You need to tell me.” She sits up straighter, as if bracing herself for bad news.
“Your mom’s fine,” Miguel says, reaching his hand across the island to cover mine briefly. “But she had an accident while you were away.”
“Like a car accident?” Rachel’s eyes widen.
“No, I fell and hit my head. And got a concussion.” I touch the tender spot on my scalp instinctively. “I am fine, but I do need to take it easy for a week or two.”
Rachel jumps from her chair, the wooden legs scraping loudly against the floor. She rushes to me, her movements quick and urgent. “Mom, you have to be careful.” She throws her arms around me, her embrace fierce and protective. “I don’t want you getting hurt.” Her voice cracks slightly on the last word.
As we hug each other, I bask in her warmth and concern, closing my eyes to savor the moment. I would never have predicted this two years ago when Rachel wouldn’t even allow me to touch her, when the gulf between us seemed unbridgeable. I want it to last forever. Even though I am dying to ask her about the bracelet and whether it really was her that Yumi saw with Van that night, I don’t. She pulls away, her eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my heart hurt. “Promise you’ll be careful?”
“I promise.” I smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face, my fingertips lingering on her cheek.
Miguel’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out, frowning as he reads what’s on the screen. “It’s our general counsel. I have to shoot off one email before I can go.”