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Girl in Trouble

Turn Back Time

Little Lies

Against All Odds

Don't Forget me

Tainted Love

Take On Me

Danger Zone

Lady in Red

White Wedding

Careless Whisper

Never Surrender

Ariana Jones

Watch Your Back

Don't Look Now

Without a Trace

Never Letting Go

Lie in Wait

No Way Out

Bayside Hunters

Bayside Opposites

Brannon House

The Perfect Death

Family Secrets

The Darkest Garden

Shattered Pieces

Grave Memories

Drowning Silence

Curse of the Moon

Lost Wolf

Chosen Wolf

Hunted Wolf

Broken Wolf

Cursed Wolf

Secret Jaguar

Curse of the Moon Box Set

Dark Sea Academy

Mermaid's Song

Mermaid's Heart

Mermaid's Wish

The Dark Sea Academy: The Complete Trilogy

Flawed Souls Romantic Suspense

When Tomorrow Starts Without Me

The Only Things You Can Take

When You Start to Miss Me

Gone

Gone

Held

Over

No Return

The Gone Trilogy

Dean's List

Indigo Bay Second Chance Romances

Sweet Complications

Indigo Bay Sweet Romance Series

Sweet Dreams

Sweet Reunion

Recluse Island

The Hotel's Secret

The Father's Secret

The Corpse's Secret

The Hunters

Seaside Surprises

Seaside Heartbeats

Seaside Dances

Seaside Kisses

Seaside Christmas

Bayside Wishes

Bayside Evenings

Bayside Promises

Bayside Destinies

Bayside Mistletoe

Bayside Dreams

The Hunters: A Collection

A Hunters Bundle

The Transformed

Deception

Betrayal

Forgotten

Ascension

Duplicity

Sacrifice

Destroyed

Transcend

Entangled

Dauntless

Obscured

Partition

Fallen (The Transformed Prequel)

Silent Bite: A Transformed Christmas

Hidden Intentions

Saved by a Vampire

Sweet Desire

Valhalla's Curse

Renegade Valkyrie

Pursued Valkyrie

Silenced Valkyrie

Vengeful Valkyrie

Unleashed Valkyrie

Standalone

The Transformed Series - Four Books

The Transformed Box Set

Alex Mercer Thrillers Box Set 1-3

Gone Saga Standalones

Alex Mercer Thrillers Box Set: Books 4-6

Alex Mercer Thrillers Box Set: Books 7-9

Deadly Secrets and Lies

Don't Trust Her

Watch for more at Stacy Claflin’s site.

DROWNING SILENCE

BRANNON HOUSE #6

STACY CLAFLIN

DROWNING SILENCE

BRANNON HOUSE #6

by Stacy Claflin

http://www.stacyclaflin.com

Copyright ©2024 Stacy Claflin. All rights reserved.

©Cover Design: Didi Wahyudi

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental or used fictitiously. The author has taken great liberties with locales including the creation of fictional towns.

Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited. Do not upload or distribute anywhere.

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1

Kenzi

Pain radiates behind my eyes—an unrelenting assault as indefensible as the power and vengeance of a firehose at full blast. I cannot believe this is actually happening.

And I can’t do anything about it.

Graham wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses a kiss to my temple. “It’ll be okay.”

I bite back a sharp comeback. My poor husband… He means well, but he’s wrong.

His ignorance is understandable, as he’s never had to live with my mother.

He has no clue just how okay things won’t be. The terror she will unleash, even in her supposed state.

The woman should be in prison. That’s where she should be living out her final days. Instead, she’s coming back to the family home. To my family, my home.

I really don’t know how my life came to this. This isn’t fair to any of us. The only blessing is the Brannon family home is a mansion, and I can avoid her as much as possible—which is exactly what I plan to do.

Thankfully, the Brannon fortune is still available. It isn’t nearly as impressive as it once was, but it will cover a private nurse for my supposedly immobile mother.

I’ll believe her stroke-induced paralysis when I see it. Maybe not even then. I’d be surprised if all of this wasn’t a ruse to get her out of prison to live the remainder of her life in this house, a home she supposedly hates. But a mansion—regardless of how many painful memories it holds—is far better than a prison cell. Especially for a woman Regina Brannon’s age.

Knock, knock.

After a few moments pass, Graham turns to me. “Do you want me to get it?”

I nod and press my palms on my rounded belly. No matter the cost, I will protect my baby.

Hopefully it doesn’t come down to that.

But I’m mentally prepared if it does.

Graham steps from me and opens the front door.

Ember peeks down from the second level. She’s no more excited about her grandmother’s return than I am.

Not after last time.

Billa’s hiding in her cottage, and I imagine she’ll be there for quite some time—even with her wicked stepmother completely paralyzed.

Allegedly.

I pull myself from my thoughts and focus on Graham, who’s at the door, speaking with the uniformed men. He’s blocking my view, so I can’t tell if they’re medics, officers, or both.

He looks back at me.

Judging by the look on his face, I’m supposed to answer something. But blood rushes in my ears, deafening me. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m now lightheaded. I stumble back toward the spiraling staircase. Collapse onto the steps. Take deep breaths. Everything around me blurs as angry tears well.

Graham rushes over and helps me up. “Are you okay?”

I nod, but that isn’t enough. He doesn’t look convinced. “I just needed a moment to sit. That’s all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” I step away from and stand on my own. “See?”

He looks me over for a moment before guiding the others down the hall to where we’ve decided my mother will stay.

My nightmare has become reality. She was supposed to spend the rest of her life in prison. Instead, she’s here. In my house.

My breathing grows even more shallow. I struggle to take deep breaths but can’t.

How is this happening? Couldn’t I have refused?

Right. I tried. All the nursing homes claimed to be full. I’m pretty sure they don’t want a criminal in their midst. Not that I blame them.

An arm wraps around me, offering support. Comfort. Carol, my brother Jack’s wife. “It’s going to be okay.”

I shake my head, unable to find words. I’m spiraling worse than the staircase.

“Multiple doctors have assessed her. She’s truly paralyzed, sweetie. Regina Brannon can’t hurt you again.”

That’s up for debate.

Tears blur my vision as I flash back to the mental institution my mother forced me into when I was just a child. When I’d done nothing wrong, other than being born a Brannon. She was rightfully incarcerated yet is now free. This woman—this toxic, manipulative woman—who had me wrongfully locked up when I was a child is now no longer behind bars.

Where is the justice in this situation?

The woman who birthed me is convinced my father’s bloodline—and therefore me, my siblings, and any children we have—is tainted with a murderous gene. An ironic belief, given she tried to kill us all. There are even whispers about her having killed her husband’s brother.

I believe those whispers after everything I’ve seen.

This can’t be happening. Maybe I can talk Graham into moving into another house. Sure, we live in a mansion, but my mother’s presence makes this place feel smaller than my old studio apartment, and it was so tiny, when I tripped in the kitchen I fell in the bathroom.

Her arrival already has me missing that place.

“Let’s get you outside.” Carol helps me stand.

My legs wobble, but they keep me upright. I’m struggling to breathe.

“Can I help?” Jack asks.

His wife nods. “Grab a water bottle from the fridge.”

My brother hurries off, mumbling to himself.

I glance down the hallway. The medics are likely getting Regina—it’s easier to think of her by her first name rather than as “mom”—settled into the first-floor space we’ve converted into a bedroom for her. It used to be my dad’s precious office that he never let anyone into.

Jack and Carol’s apartment is beside it, which is convenient, as Carol offered to handle most of Regina’s care. She volunteered, saying it only made sense as she had nursing experience.

I’m pretty sure her choice had more to do with my panic attacks than her career.

After my brother hands me a water bottle, Carol instructs him to see if Graham needs any assistance. Jack hurries down the hall. He’s happiest when he knows exactly what he can do to help.

I guzzle half the water bottle in one go, then she guides me outside. The sun is shining, but the dark clouds in the distance predict heavy rain coming soon.

“How are you feeling now?” Carol closes the front door behind us.

My breathing comes a little easier now. Still can’t gulp any deep breaths. Might not be able to until either Regina or my little family moves out.

I place my palms over my belly, reminding myself why I need to calm down. This can’t be good for the baby.

Neither can his or her grandmother’s presence.

There is literally nothing good that can come from Regina’s return.

“Kenzi?” Carol rubs my back.

Right. She asked me a question.

How am I doing? I’m not sure that’s something I can answer.

“Have you put more thought into my suggestion? About seeing a counselor?”

I groan. “How is talking going to help anything?”

“It’ll give you a chance to work out your feelings.”

“The woman who birthed me is a psychopath, and I resent her for everything she put me through as a child. I know exactly how I feel.”

Carol gives me a sympathetic glance, not unlike the one my husband gave me a few minutes ago. “Knowing what you feel isn’t the same thing as working through it. After you do that, you’ll be able to think clearly on the other side.”

“It won’t change anything. My childhood will still be full of traumatic memories.”

“Right, but you don’t have to remain traumatized by them. You’ll be able to look back on them through a more neutral lens. That will both be different and make a difference.”

“I don’t see how I can do that with her living under the same roof as me. Just being near her gives me panic attacks.”

“That’s why Jack and I will take on most of your mom’s care. Graham offered to help as well. Nobody’s going to ask you or Billa to do anything.”

“Billa wouldn’t, anyway. I don’t think she’s even going to enter the house while Regina is here.”

My poor half-sister has even more reason than me to avoid the woman. If anyone is the living embodiment of an evil stepmother, it’s Regina.

I rub my stomach, unable to understand how the woman could carry me for nine months and then treat me as she did. I haven’t even met my child, but all I want is to give him or her the best of everything.

Maybe talking with a counselor would help with that. If I have panic attacks every time I see Regina, I’m not able to live my best life. And I could be impacting my baby’s life in a negative way before his or her first breath.

I turn to Carol. “You said you have a reference?”

“Several, but one in particular who I think would be a good fit. She’s trauma-informed, so she knows how to help someone in your shoes.”

“Okay. I’ll give her a call.”

Carol wraps her arms around me. “I’m so glad. You won’t regret it.”

I hope she’s right.

2

Graham

Kenzi sleeps soundly next to me, and it’s the calmest I’ve seen her all day. She was a nervous wreck since the moment we woke. She’s such a strong person, it kills me to see her struggling so much. I get family issues, but I’ve never seen someone as strong as my wife have a panic attack over a completely paralyzed woman—and I’ve seen a lot in my time on the police force.

I’m no fan of Regina Brannon’s. After everything Kenzi has told me, I’d be more than happy to kick the woman to the street, but I honestly believe my wife—deep down—wants to take care of her mom. She just isn’t in a place where she can handle that right now. But I’m certain if she didn’t take Regina in, she would later regret that decision.

Regret is also something I know all too much about, and it’s not something I want Kenzi to have to deal with down the road.

I brush a kiss on her forehead before climbing out of bed then trudging downstairs. Voices carry from the direction of my mother-in-law’s new room. Jack and Carol have taken most of the responsibility of our newest housemate. I couldn’t be more grateful to them for that—especially after everything Jack has been through.

If Kenzi has been through hell at the hands of her mother, then my brother-in-law’s experience was off the charts. Someone could make a horror movie about his life and people would say it was unbelievable. That it could never happen.

It never should have. Someone should’ve stepped in and made sure he was okay. That’s what law enforcement is for. How could none of the neighbors have noticed a child on their street going missing?

Where the Brannon family was concerned, it was typical. For centuries, outsiders looked the other way regarding them and the odd events at their infamous estate.

I’m pretty sure that still happens to this day. The same woman who tried to burn the structure down—and everyone in it—just moved back in, and not one neighbor has stopped by to see how we’re doing.

Apparently, some things never change. People definitely don’t.

I want to grab something to drink so I can relax before going to sleep, but guilt stings, so I head down the hall to see if Jack and Carol need anything.

The door to the office-turned-bedroom is cracked open. I knock quickly as I step inside. “How’s everything going?”

Jack glances at me from his mom’s feet. “We’re just moving her limbs like they told us to.”

“Need anything?”

He lifts one of her feet. “No. How’s Kenzi?”

“Resting, thankfully.”

“I’m glad,” Carol says. “Did she get a chance to call the therapist yet?”

“She said she left a message. Thank you for giving her the referral. I’m really worried about her now that Regina’s here.”

Carol glances between the paralyzed patient and me. “She can hear what we’re saying.”

“Good. Have any of Regina’s children escaped horrific mental and emotional trauma?”

Jack looks away.

I walk over to where I can see my mother-in-law’s face.

Her eyes bore into me.

“You may be stuck in a body that refuses to move, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve done terrible things to your own children. I truly believe Claire would still be here had she not been raised by you. No, you didn’t pull the trigger, but you may as well have. She’d have made different life choices along the way, and she wouldn’t have ended up with—or at least wouldn’t have stayed with—an abusive husband. Every choice your children have made has been because of the way they were raised. Don’t even get me started with Kenzi or Jack.”

Carol coughs nervously.

I’m not about to stop when my wife is traumatized by this woman’s return. “Regina, you’ve destroyed the lives of your children. Luckily, most of them have managed to overcome your negative influence. Even Claire achieved plenty of victories in her short time on earth. She raised an amazing young woman and had a tremendous legal career. Now, you have nothing but time to think about all of that. And I’m glad. Think about your children. Stew in regret.” I hold her gaze for a few moments before turning to Jack and Carol. “If you need anything, let me know. I’m here to help you two.”

They both nod without a word. Maybe I’m a horrible person for having chewed out an elderly paralyzed woman, but I don’t care. Not after all the harm she’s inflicted on some of the people I care about the most. What they have to live with is far worse than me pointing it out to that woman.

Their apartment is a reminder of the horrors Regina Brannon inflicted on her family. She kept Jack locked away behind that door for decades, and nobody knew he was there. It’s a miracle he’s still alive, no thanks to his own mother.

I stand taller as I make my way to the kitchen. I’ve stood up to the woman. Kenzi may never be able to look at her again, and I certainly won’t make her. I’ll get up fifty times a night to care for my mother-in-law before I think about my wife having to face Regina before she’s ready.

My stomach rumbles. I pile leftovers on a plate. While it warms in the microwave, I sip on a beer. If ever I needed some alcohol to help me relax, it’s today. I’m just glad Regina is immobile. It’ll make it that much easier to help Kenzi forget she’s here, and that means we can move on with our lives all the faster.

Everything was about as good as could be before getting the news about my mother-in-law moving back in. We’d all fully expected her to live out the rest of her days in prison, but it would appear the Brannon house continues to draw its people back home whether or not they want to return—or if the current residents want them.

Just as I’m sitting at the table with my steaming food, footsteps sound in the hallway. I turn, expecting to see Jack or Carol, either needing help or irritated with me for being rude to the patient.

Nobody’s there.

I swear I heard footsteps. Things tend to echo around here, so it’s hard to make up something like that. Unless I subconsciously was hoping Kenzi would come down so we could talk. But she’s fast asleep, and I hope she manages to stay that way as long as possible after her panic attack earlier.

Step, step.

That was definitely not my imagination. Is someone hiding in the hallway, waiting for me to leave?

I take a quick bite before getting up and peeking out of the kitchen.

Empty.

Not possible.

“Jack?” I call. “Carol?”

Nothing.

The air around me turns chilly. A shiver runs down my spine, but I ignore it. It’s hard to keep a place this huge and old equally warm throughout. Cold spots happen. It’s just part of life in the Brannon house.

“Ember?”

Sometimes my teen daughter likes to play pranks, and lately she’s been trying to convince me our home is as haunted as people in town whisper.

I wish her luck. I’m an officer of the law and so far have been able to find logical explanations for everything—the most recent being a squatter living in the walls next to Ember’s room.

The thought still makes my blood boil. We thought we’d found and sealed all of the hidden entrances to the house, but clearly we’d missed one. That means we might’ve missed others. How, with renovations, I don’t know. But I suppose they aren’t called secret passages for nothing.

All the ones we know of are sealed, though now I worry there are others we still haven’t found. As long as other squatters don’t come along and discover them first, we’ll be fine.

Now that the footsteps have subsided, I return to the hall and glance toward the old office that now houses my mother-in-law. Not so much as a shadow moves down that way.

I take quiet steps, as if I were in pursuit of an assailant, and hurry to the room. The lights have been dimmed, and Regina lies on the wheeled bed exactly as she was before. Jack and Carol are nowhere in sight, a bright light shining under the door to their living area.

The footsteps must’ve been one of them as they settled Regina in for the night.

It’s the only logical explanation.

3

Ember

My dad finally heads up the spiral staircase.

I wait until I hear water running upstairs before stepping out from my hiding place and tiptoeing down the hall to Grandma’s new room. It’s so weird being back in Grandpa’s old study. It was such a huge and mysterious place when I was a kid, but now it seems so small and suffocating.

Crazy how perspective can change so much with the passing of time.

Heavy breathing sounds from the bed near the window, and muffled TV noise plays from behind Uncle Jack and Aunt Carol’s closed door.

Everything seems so normal. A grandma sleeping while an aunt and uncle watch their nightly shows. But nothing is normal—not when my grandmother should be behind bars for setting this house on fire and trying to kill my boyfriend at the time.

She claimed she was trying to protect me, saying the Brannon women always have to be careful. I really don’t know if she meant that, or if those were just the ramblings of a madwoman. Now I’m curious to know more, but if she’s completely paralyzed I may never get answers.

But if she isn’t—like Kenzi thinks—then maybe I have a chance.

Even if she is, maybe she can still communicate. I’ve read books where people who can’t otherwise move can blink once for yes and twice for no.

It’s possible I can get answers.

I inch toward my grandma. As I get closer, her breathing grows louder. Finally, I’m standing right next to her. Despite her looking so helpless, my heartbeat spikes. I flash back to the terrifying night of the fire. As always, I close my eyes and shake my head.

This time it doesn’t make the images go away.

I need to get out of here. Something about her is making things worse, to the point I can’t control my memories. Even if she does hold answers I’m looking for, I don’t need them tonight.

Pulse racing, I hurry from her bedside and don’t stop until I’m upstairs safely in my room. After locking my door, I throw myself on my bed and try to catch my breath. It isn’t like she can get up here, but I can’t shake the feeling something malevolent followed me.

That’s crazy. Or is it? Strange things happen in this house, so why would this be any different? Things move around on their own, I hear unexplained sounds in the walls, and we always seem to find new passages.

There’s even a gravestone with my name on it in the secret family plot in the woods. Different girl, but the exact same name. She lived here over a century ago. I’d found her journal, and based on what I read, our lives have a lot of parallels. Now I see another that I didn’t before. Her father wasn’t so different from my grandma. Not exactly the same, but similar.

It’s still hard to accept my grandma was willing to kill the boy I loved. I know it happened—I’ll never be able to forget that awful night—but I can no longer put off processing that fact. Since she’s back in the house, I have to deal with it. With her.

I definitely see why Kenzi was freaking out about Grandma’s return. I didn’t think the presence of a mute, paralyzed woman would make a difference.

Until now. Until I had a bad reaction just standing near her.

Maybe what I need is to get out of the house. Some fresh air will do me good. I check Dad and Kenzi’s room to make sure they’re sleeping before heading outside. The air is extra crisp, and I tighten my jacket around me as I make my way to the woods. I use my phone as a flashlight to find my way to the graveyard then sit in front of the other Ember’s stone. The ground has molded itself into my shape by this point.

I update her on everything that has happened in the family since my last visit. Like every other time I’ve talked to her, she listens quietly. Speaking my thoughts always helps organize them. I’m not sure I feel any better about my situation, but thinking of all my ancestor endured, I do feel better about Grandma being back. Even though she was dangerous, she never wanted to hurt me. I really believe she thought she was protecting me by setting the fire—crazy as I know that sounds.

And that’s part of what worries me. She does what she thinks is best, regardless of how dangerous it is to anyone else. Kenzi calls her a loose cannon.

If only I had someone to talk to who could reply. I need another perspective. I already know how everyone at home feels and could really use some outside opinions. My friends aren’t an option. I haven’t really been discussing serious matters with them lately. They all spend most of their free time with their boyfriends. The few moments I get alone with them are usually spent talking about their relationships.

Me? I can’t let go of the one boy I can’t have. He’s only a little older, but he graduated super early and now works for the school district. A relationship with me could cost him his career, and maybe more. As far as I know, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. And there’s nothing stopping him from dating someone. Especially considering he’s encouraged me to date boys at school so I can have normal experiences like school dances and stolen kisses at our lockers.

I’m supposed to wait until after graduating to see how I feel. That’s practically a lifetime away. The days pass unbearably slowly when I don’t want to spend time with anyone else.

A thought hits me so hard it nearly knocks me over.

Was that from the other Ember?

It’s creative enough that it might just work. I just have to figure out how to pose it to Dad and Kenzi to get them to agree.

That’s going to be the tricky part.

I leap up and race toward the house. Once I reach my room, I lock the door and start writing my ideas.

This has to work. My pleas have to be especially convincing. It might take a few days to nail down every detail. I can’t have any holes in my plan when I present it to them.

4

Kenzi

I bolt upright in bed, eyes wide in the dark room. Something woke me. Don’t hear anything now. I hold my breath, listen.

Nothing.

Maybe it was just my bladder again. While I’m still barely showing, my baby is big enough to put plenty of pressure on it, particularly at night. I can’t imagine how often I’ll wake as he or she gets bigger.

Tap.

I didn’t imagine that.

Next to me, Graham doesn’t so much as stir. You’d think being married to a policeman would give me comfort, but this man could sleep through an avalanche.

Tap, tap.

Are those footsteps?

Only one way to find out. I climb out of bed then pad across the room. At the door, I cup my hand around one ear and hold my breath to hear even better.

Nothing.

I poke my head out of the bedroom, scan the dim hall only lit by sparsely spread-out nightlights. No shadows, no noise. Maybe the taps were just water pipes or the old heating vents that, though no longer used, still make their presence known from time to time.

After what feels like minutes of silence but is probably only a few moments, I head to the bathroom then climb back into bed.

No more sounds. I scoot closer to Graham, who’s still sleeping peacefully where I left him before checking the hallway. Try as I might to stay awake to listen for more tapping, my eyelids grow heavy until I can’t keep them open any longer.

When I wake, the room is bright. Graham’s spot next to me is empty. I’m not sure how I slept through his alarm when the soft tapping woke me in the middle of the night. After giving into a few yawns, I empty my bladder again then make my way downstairs.

Graham and Ember are in the kitchen, talking over bacon and scrambled eggs. He offers to make me eggs, but the thought of them turns my stomach.

I grab some bacon slices and stick bread in the toaster.

Graham wraps his arms around me. “How did you sleep?”

“Great.” I don’t tell him about my excitement in the middle of the night. There’s no point because nothing happened. It was probably my nerves, and the last thing I want to do is worry him. I’m sure I’ll adjust to my mother’s return at some point—especially if she really is immobile.

Time will tell.

My husband kisses my temple. “I’m so glad. And so you don’t have to think about it, I checked on Jack and Carol. They’re doing well and say your mom really does seem paralyzed. She hasn’t budged an inch since she arrived. Also, everyone is still alive and there haven’t been any fires.”

How I wish he was joking.

“I don’t think she’s going to cause any trouble for us.” He returns to his seat.

“I hope you’re right.”

My toast pops up, and it’s a perfect light brown. I butter it then join them at the table.

Ember yawns. She’s obviously trying to cover up dark circles under her eyes with makeup.

“Did you sleep okay, sweetie?” I ask.

She yawns again. “Yeah.”

Graham and I exchange a glance at her one word answer.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yep. Hey, can we talk about something tonight?”

My heart sinks. “What’s wrong?”

She rolls her eyes. “Nothing. I just want to ask you about something.”

“What is it?” I ask. “We can talk now.”

Ember glances at her phone. “My bus is going to be here any minute. Gotta go!”

I start to say something, but she shoves the last piece of bacon into her mouth before darting out of the room.

Graham turns to me. “What do you think that’s about?”

“It’s anyone’s guess.” I shrug. “Maybe she wants to move now that Regina is here.”

He gives me another kiss. “I think that’s your wishful thinking. And honestly, I don’t think your mom is going to be any trouble. Carol even said she’s going to cut back on her clients to make sure she has enough time to devote to her, and Jack is happy to take over care duties while Carol’s at work.”

“I don’t know how he can even stand to look at her. What that woman did to him was so much worse than what she did to me—and that was unforgivable.”

Graham squeezes my hand. “I can’t begin to imagine what either of you went through. If you want, I’ll keep trying to find a facility for her.”

I draw in a deep breath. “There isn’t an open spot in fifty miles. Not when they hear her name. Her reputation precedes her. She can’t even get on a waitlist.”

“There are other options.”

“Such as?”

“We could move.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “From a house this big that’s already paid off? After all the renovations we’ve done? That wouldn’t make any sense.”

“It’s an option.”

“I’d rather move our bedrooms to another wing than do that.”

He gives me a heart-stopping grin. “It would give us a chance to update the fourth wing. Imagine what we could do with that kitchen. It’s enormous.”

The fourth wing is one I avoid because it’s been virtually untouched in nearly a century. Like the rest of the house, it had to be inspected after the fire. It had caused no damage, however, the report indicated serious updates were necessary if anyone should want to live there.

If any part of the mansion really is haunted, it would be the fourth wing with its rudimentary everything. The electricity works, but barely. It’s like stepping back into time.

I avoid it like the plague.

Given all the stairs and uneven floors, it’s a hazard. One I doubt Regina would risk if she is faking her condition.

“We could move there.” I nod enthusiastically. “I wonder if that’s what Ember wants to talk to us about tonight.”

Graham steps back and lifts a brow. “You’d seriously move to the fourth wing?”

“Why not?”

He glances at my belly. “It’s kind of impractical for a baby.”

“You make it sound unlivable. The cleaning staff works on it once a month. It just needs a few upgrades.”

“Like new wiring, new plumbing, new⁠—”

“Stop!” I laugh. “I get your point. I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea of moving everything out of our room all the way over there either, but I don’t like being so close to Regina. At all.”

He rubs my shoulders. “Why don’t we see how we feel after a week? Right now, the situation is so new and raw. Once we’ve had time to adjust to her being here, we’ll probably find we don’t even notice the difference from before. She truly is an invalid. I’m sure of it.”

I frown, glancing over at Billa’s empty chair. “One thing has changed.”

With Regina back, my half-sister won’t come near the house. I doubt she’d even go to the fourth wing. I’m surprised she’s even staying in her cottage, given that it’s on the property.

Our family tree is a tangled one, and that’s only if you consider my brothers and sisters. Ember’s mom Claire was my only full sibling. Billa was fathered by my dad around the same time I was, but she has a different mom. Jack, who is old enough to be my dad, is my brother.

Like I said, messed up. Having Regina back complicates everything. Hopefully she appreciates her son having a heart of gold—one big enough to let him care for her in her time of need.

I didn’t seem to share that familial trait with him.

“I have to get going,” Graham says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Carol mentioned ordering a wheelchair. It might arrive today.”

“If it does, I’ll leave it outside her room.”

“Sounds good.”

We make our way toward the front door.

Graham slips on his shoes then turns to me. “Let me know if you need anything. If your mom manages to get out of bed, I’ll drop everything and be here as soon as I can.”

The fact that he thinks that’s a possibility sends a shiver down my spine. If he believes there’s a chance she might not actually be paralyzed, then it means there’s a real chance it could be true.

“But that’s not going to happen.” He gives me a kiss and reaches for the door.

Before he makes contact with it, the doorbell rings.

“Maybe that’s the wheelchair already.” Graham unlocks the deadbolt then turns the knob.

It isn’t a delivery. A man stands there, likely in his early twenties. He’s dressed like a skater and has a bunch of suitcases at his feet.

He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.

Our gazes lock. A sense of recognition washes over me, but I still don’t know who he is.

Until I do.

I know exactly why his face rings a bell. Because I’ve seen him recently.

Graham steps in between us. “You need to leave.”

He slams the door shut.

5

Kenzi

My mind races, trying to make sense of this latest development. The man standing on the other side of our closed front door is the squatter who was living in our walls not long ago. He’d found a secret entrance and had been living with us for an unknown length of time.

A chill runs down my spine. “What’s he doing back?”

Graham squares his shoulders. “I don’t care. What matters is he’s leaving. If he doesn’t, I’m going to arrest him.”

The guy’s face sticks in my mind. There’s something else about him, something my brain won’t let go of. He isn’t only the squatter. What am I missing?

Ding-dong!

“I’m not going away,” he calls from outside.

Graham’s face reddens. “I’m going to⁠—”

“Wait!” Everything clicks into place. “Don’t.”

He looks at me like I’ve just grown another arm. “Why not?”

My stomach churns acid as I see the man’s face in my head. His eyes tell everything.

There’s no denying the truth.

Ding-dong!

“What’s going on, Kenzi?”

I hate to say it, but I can’t deny what’s obvious. “He’s a Brannon.”

“What?”

“He has my father’s eyes.”

“That’s crazy.”

“You really think so?” I move past him then whip open the door.

Our squatter hasn’t moved.

I stare him down. “What do you want?”

No way I’m going to tell him what I know. I need to hear it from his mouth.

He glances between Graham and me. “You clearly recognize me.”

“Yeah,” Graham snaps. “You were spying on my daughter through a hole in the wall.”

I turn to him so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“I already sealed the hole.”

The squatter crosses his arms. “I did no such thing!”

“Really?” Graham’s voice is so loud, I’m sure it can be heard all the way in the fourth wing. “Then why were you living on the other side of the wall of my teenage daughter’s room?”

He chews on his lower lip. “Because I knew about the secret entrance behind the ivy near that crumbling chimney. I didn’t know anything about a supposed hole.”

“Likely story. Get off our property now, before I arrest you myself.”

“You a cop?”

Graham whips out his badge. “Should I read you your rights before or after I cuff you?”

The guy takes a step back. “Look, clearly we’re getting off on the wrong foot. I’m Jack Brannon’s son.”

I knew it.

“You sure about that? You look pretty young, and he’s been dead a long time.”

“Graham.” I gasp. “That was harsh.”

“Anyone can claim to be related. He probably wants a cut of the money.”

The guy’s brows draw together. “You don’t think I’m Jack’s son?”

“Why would you have to sneak in and hide if you were?”

“How else would I even know about the secret entrance?” He stares my husband down.

That’s a good point. How did he know about it? I grew up here and had no clue of its existence.

“Who are you?” Graham steps outside.

I follow him and close the door behind me.

“My name is Ryker Wellstone.”

Graham tilts his head. “Not Brannon?”

“I was raised by my mom. Dear old Dad wasn’t in the picture.”

My mind reels. How many more relatives will show up? Will more pop up out of the woodwork? First Billa, now Ryker. The more I study his face, the more I see the family resemblance.

Graham takes another step toward Ryker. “We’re going to need more than your word.”

“Like what? A DNA test?”

“That would be a good start.”

Ryker opens his mouth. “Swab me, officer. Although my DNA should already be on file since you had me arrested for living in my own family home.”

“I could have your results run against your sister’s to look for proof, but it isn’t up to us to figure this out. Don’t come back until you have actual proof that you’re a Brannon.”

“But—”

“Don’t test me. We have no reason to trust you. Maybe even less if you are a Brannon, given the track record of this family. Leave and don’t return until you have verifiable proof. Got it?”

His mouth hangs open.

“Got it?” Graham is almost yelling now.

“Fine.” Ryker grabs his luggage and storms away.

When he’s out of earshot, I turn to Graham. “I don’t need proof. He has my dad’s exact eyes. There are other similar features too.”

“I know,” he grumbles. “But we need time to figure out what to do about him. He probably wants money, and that means we need legal advice.” He pulls out his phone and calls into work letting them know he’s running late before turning his attention back to me. “I don’t want you worrying about him. I’ll get this figured out. You have enough on your plate.”

“But you have work. I have time to make calls.”

He gives me a quick kiss. “Just rest. Please.”

I frown.

“Do you promise?”

“If I have to.”

“It would make me feel a lot better.”

“Fine, but I don’t see how calling an attorney is going to hurt me.”

“I’m sure a call won’t, but it’s stress you don’t need, and I’m happy to take it on.”

There’s no point in arguing with him. Besides, now I need to let Jack and Billa know about our newest family drama.

Graham and I say goodbye, then I head inside, mind spinning. If Ryker new about the secret entrance, that means my father had to have told his mother about it. She must’ve come and gone through it when I was a kid because Ryker isn’t that much younger than me.

How many other half siblings and cousins are out there? Do they know how to get into my home without a key?

I need to go around the house with a fine-toothed comb and make sure there aren’t any more hidden doors. There can’t be many more left. But then again, this is the Brannon house.

Anything is possible.

6

Ember

By the time I step off the school bus, I’m more convinced than ever my plan is the right one. I simply need to find the perfect way to frame it so Dad and Kenzi will be on board. I’m just not sure which of them will be the tougher nut to crack.

The bus drives away, but I don’t move from the edge of the lawn. It won’t be long before Dad gets home from work, so the clock is ticking. I almost wish I hadn’t asked them to talk tonight. At first, I thought I had everything figured out, but the more I thought about everything throughout the day, one problem became painfully clear—my argument has holes.

My dad is no ordinary parent. He’s a detective—he finds and exploits flaws in people’s stories for a living, and he’s amazing at his job.

I’m at a huge disadvantage.

I really should’ve thought this through for longer. But there’s no going back now.

Someone walks around the side of the house. At first, it looks like Billa, but then I realize it’s Kenzi.

She’s covered in dirt.

What is she doing? My adopted mom is always well-dressed and almost never has a hair out of place—even when she’s in her pajamas and is rubbing a mud mask onto her face. Sometimes I don’t even know how we’re related.

I hurry over to her. “Is everything okay?”

She glances at me and wipes a cobweb from her shirt.

Something is definitely up.

“I’m checking the house for any secret entrances we’ve missed.”

“Why now?”

“We can’t risk anymore squatters showing up.”

I groan. Why’d she have to remind me of that? I’d almost forgotten about the creepy guy living in my wall. “You think there’s more?”

“You don’t?”

I can’t deny the high likelihood. “Do you want some help?”

“Actually, I could use some water. Mind grabbing me a bottle from the fridge?”

“Sure, then I’ll help you.”

“I don’t want to interfere with your homework.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” I run inside, throw my backpack in the entryway, then grab two waters. When I get outside, my aunt is nowhere to be seen. I circle back around the side of the house in the direction she’d come from when I was exiting the bus.

Kenzi has walked to the fourth wing and is now tangled in a bunch of ivy climbing up the wall. We almost never enter that part of the house because it hasn’t been renovated. In fact, we almost never leave the main wing, and even then, we don’t even use the majority of that.

“Here’s your water.” I loosen the cap and hand it to her.

She steps away from the gnarled plants then gulps down half the bottle. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Finding anything?”

“Nothing. But that shouldn’t be surprising. You almost have to know they’re there to see them. Ryker says he knew about the one he used.”

“Who?”

“Sorry. The squatter.”

“You’ve named him?” Now I’m more confused than ever.

“No. He came by today and introduced himself.”

“Creeper.”

“Maybe not.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She doesn’t look like she is.

“What did he want?”

Kenzi downs the rest of the bottle before setting it on the grass. “He’s our relative.”

I drop my water. “What?”

“That’s how he knew about the entrance. My uncle Jack must’ve told his mom about the entrance when he was seeing her.”

“This family is so screwed up.”

“I suspect we don’t even know the half of it.”

“What does… Ryker want?”

“I’m not sure. Your dad didn’t give him a chance to say. Told him he needs to prove his paternity before coming back—and I’m determined to make sure there are no more entrances to our house when he does.”

“Does Dad know you’re doing this?”

“I don’t need his permission.”

“Fair point, but maybe you shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

She gestures toward the ivy.

“Maybe I should clip that stuff before you hurt yourself.”

“Have at it. I don’t care about the ivy. The only thing that matters is making sure there’s no door back here. Ryker said his entrance was covered with this stuff.”

“I’ll be right back. I think the clippers are in the shed.”

“You going to drink that?” She glances at my water bottle lying near my feet.

I hand it to her before making my way to the shed. It only takes a minute to find the clippers—we have gardeners, and they keep everything organized. When I rejoin my aunt, she has a leaf stuck in her hair. “Do you want to take a break?”

“Not until I’m done and am sure there isn’t a single way into the house that we don’t know about.”

“I thought Dad and Jack checked everything after Ryker was arrested.”

“They looked, but not as closely as I am. If my parents had told me about these, then I wouldn’t have to do this. But that isn’t how our family works.”

“Do you think Grandma knows where the entrances are? Maybe we can find a way to communicate with her. You know, blink once for yes and twice for no. Something like that.”

“I love your optimism, but there are two problems with that idea. First is that he took those secrets to the grave.”

I hesitate to ask. “The second?”

“Even if Regina knew, she wouldn’t tell us.”

“You don’t think so?”

Kenzi gives me a knowing look.

“I guess you’re right. But she claims she set the fire to protect me.”

“Who tries to burn down their own house when their family is living in it?”

Again, I can’t argue.

“If you want to help, let’s get to work. I’m sure neither of us wants to do this longer than we need to.”

“I’d rather do this than homework.”

“You still need to get that done.”

I demolish the ivy while Kenzi checks the bricks for hidden doors. Just this side of the house has enough overgrowth to fill an entire dumpster. I’m glad most of the house is new and clean. It would take me forever to do this for every inch of the mansion’s outer walls.

After what feels like an hour I take a break. “Find anything?”

Kenzi glances over at me. “No, but I’m impressed with how much you’ve managed to cut down.”

I glance down at the mess on the ground. “Should I start putting this in the yard waste container?”

“We’ll worry about that later. Besides, I’m sure Lorenzo will be able to do that when he comes next. I don’t want to let anything slow us down.”

Of course she doesn’t. When my aunt wants something, she won’t rest until she gets it. Must be a Brannon thing because I can be the same way and so was my mom. The only one who doesn’t seem to have that strong drive is Jack, and that could be due to the years he spent locked in his room.

I shudder at the thought.

“You okay?” Kenzi asks.

“Yeah, fine. I’m going to move onto the next section.”

“I’m going to stay here for now. I’m not convinced I haven’t missed something.”

“If that’s what you want to do. I don’t see anything.”

“Exactly.”

I move to the next part of the wall, glad that it’s winter. I wouldn’t want to do this in the sweltering heat of the summer.

After I’ve gotten about a quarter of the ivy off this area, Kenzi calls me over. “Do you see anything here?”

My heart skips a beat as I drop the clippers and hurry to her side. Did she really find a new secret entrance?

7

Ember

Kenzi’s eyes are so wide they could pop out of the sockets. “Do you see that?”

I stare at the wall, not sure what I’m looking for. If there’s a door, I definitely don’t see it.

“Well?”

“Where?”

She points to the wall, making an impatient sound.

I study the brick, not seeing anything.

Until I do. There’s the slightest crack running between some of the bricks.

I gasp. “Is that a hidden entrance?”

“There’s only one way to find out!” She presses her palm all over the bricks around the crack. “Help me figure this out.”

I kneel, pushing dirt and pebbles out of the way to feel around the bottom. Inside, when we’ve found doors like this there’s often—not always—a button or lever near the molding. This would be the outdoors equivalent.

“Got anything?” Kenzi uses her sleeve to scrub dirt from the wall.

“Not yet. You?”

“Nothing.”

I groan. “You’d think there’d be a master list of all this stuff somewhere.”

“If there is, it’s as hidden as some of these entrances. I’ve looked over several sets of blueprints, and none of them show a single thing.”

On one hand, I’m impressed by my ancestors having managed to create and hide these tunnels and rooms, but at the same time it’s super annoying that they didn’t pass any of this information along to their own offspring. Not that it’s surprising, given everything I’ve seen and read from various journals.

Kenzi steps back. “There has to be something we’re missing. The crack is in the shape of a door.”

“Unless it’s a decoy.”

“It’s too well hidden to be one.”

I step back and squint, trying to see if we’re missing anything. Now that she’s brushed away most of the dirt and grime, the crack is clearly in the shape of a door. Even though the decoy idea was mine, I don’t buy it. We’ve never found a fake entrance before. This has to be the real deal.

My aunt turns to me. “What do you think?”

“We need to keep trying.”

She returns to pressing on the wall, and I squat back down to the bottom of it, looking and feeling for anything. There has to be something.

Then I feel it. Barely. Where the brick meets the dirt, part of the wall sticks out just slightly. It’s hardly noticeable, but it’s there.

Kenzi stops and glances down at me. “Did you find something?”

My breath sticks in my throat for a moment. “I think so!”

“Well?”

I push with one finger, then two.

Nothing.

Then I press the spot with my foot.

Something creaks.

Kenzi and I exchange wide-eyed glances.

I leap back.

“Don’t stop!” She nudges me closer.

Mind racing, I push my shoe against the spot again.

Creak.

Kenzi yelps. “Keep going!”

I can hardly believe we’re on the verge of discovering another entrance to the house, though given it’s the fourth wing—the only unexplored place left—I shouldn’t be surprised. Maybe it’s another underground tunnel.

Nothing is impossible on this property.

There isn’t another creak, so I pull my foot back and press it against the raised area again.

Creak.

It doesn’t seem like holding pressure there is the key, so I push the spot multiple times. Each time produces another creak. Dirt shifts and falls to the ground. The wall shakes.

Kenzi grabs my arms. “It’s going to open!”

We take turns pressing on the raised part until the door opens enough for us to squeeze in.

A strange smell emanates from the opening.

I gag. “What’s that?”

“Smells like mildew.”

“Gross.”

She looks deep in thought for a moment. “Maybe we should get masks. Who knows what’s in there?”

More of the odor fills the air. Something wet has clearly been sealed away for a long time. Decades, at least. Maybe a century or more.

A shiver runs down my spine.

“I’ll run inside and get some,” she says. “You want me to grab you a water too?”

“Sure.”

She disappears around the side of the house while I stare at the space between the bricks. It’s completely dark inside, which isn’t surprising. None of the hidden passages are exactly lit or have windows.

The air makes me gag some more. I’m not sure masks will help with a smell this strong.

I turn on my phone’s light to peek inside. Dust mites float, but I hardly notice because of what I see behind them.

“You’re looking without me?”

I whip around. Guilt floods me as I meet her gaze. “Sorry, I should’ve waited.”

“What’d you find?” She hands me a mask and a water bottle.

“You’ll have to see it for yourself.” I down the entire drink while Kenzi shines her light inside.

She gasps. “Did you see that?”

I nod and slide on my mask.

“That explains the stink.”

“It sure does.” I take a step to walk in first.

“No, I’d better go in first in case anything’s wrong. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

“You’re also pregnant.” I step inside, still able to smell the musty odor but at least it isn’t as bad.

Kenzi comes in right behind me. Both of our lights illuminate an enormous swimming pool filled with more algae than water.

My stomach roils.

“A hidden pool?” Kenzi sounds like she doesn’t believe what we see. “What’s the point of that?”

“You’ve got me.”

She shines her light around the walls. The room looks completely sealed with no way in or out from the house, like it’s completely separate from the rest of the building.

It doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone want to hide this?

Kenzi crosses the room and aims her light on the wall. “There must be another hidden door.”

“I think I’ve had enough searching for secret entrances for one day.” I turn my light toward the pool. It’s even more disgusting up close. Heaps of dead bugs and something that looks like a bloated dead toad dot the water’s surface.

“We have to know if anyone can get inside the house through here.”

“I’ll just lock my bedroom door every night. Then nobody can get to me. Problem solved.” My stomach churns acid, and I’m starting to feel lightheaded. “Are you sure it’s safe for us to be in here?”

“You can go if you want.” She doesn’t pull her attention from the wall.

“I’m not leaving you in here alone.”

“The walls aren’t going to crumble on me. Everything in this house was built to last. Not even a fire compromised it.”

“This part hasn’t been inspected. We don’t know how safe it is.” My eyes water from the stench.

“I’m sure it’s just as solid as the rest of the house.”

“If you say so. I’m going to get some fresh air.”

She doesn’t respond, so I spin around and make my way back outside. I yank off the mask and gulp in fresh oxygen. The musty odor clings to me, but it isn’t nearly as strong out here. I go as far from the house as I can without stepping into the woods and lean against a tree.

My mind tries to process the discovery. It doesn’t make sense why someone would want to hide a swimming pool, especially one large enough to hold so many people. Unless it somehow is connected to the moonshine we found on another part of the property. If they were trying to stay hidden from the cops so they could have drinking parties, it makes sense. But why would they want a bunch of drunk people near so much water? Maybe they didn’t care about the risks.

Sometimes it’s pointless to question why my ancestors did anything.

Inside the newly discovered room, Kenzi screams.

I bolt for the door.

8

Kenzi

It takes me a moment to realize it’s me hollering. I quiet myself and stare in disbelief at the wall.

If only I could go back in time, I’d convince myself to leave this hunt alone.

This was the last thing I wanted to find.

“Are you okay?” Ember’s voice pulls me from the horror staring at me from the wall.

“Go back outside! Now!”

She skids to a stop. “What? Why?”

“I’m serious. Go!” My entire body shakes. We never should’ve come in here.

Ember doesn’t move.

Not that I’m surprised. I wouldn’t either.

“What’d you find?” She shines her light around.

“Let’s get outside.” I hurry to guide her out.

She resists as I push her through the opening. “You have to tell me what you saw!”

I shake my head. “I’d be a terrible parent if I did.”

“I’m not a little kid.”

“I know that.”

She throws me an exasperated look. “Then tell me.”

I close my eyes, but all I can see is what was in that wall. The image may be seared into my memory.

“Did you find a dead body?”

“Worse.”

Her mouth drops open. “What could be worse than a dead body?”

She’s going to find out eventually, so I may as well tell her what’s inside our family home. “Multiple dead bodies.”

“Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately.”

“How fresh are they?”

I stare at my teenager. “What kind of a question is that?”

“You know I listen to true crime podcasts and I read crime thrillers—on top of being a cop’s kid. I’m exactly the person to ask these questions.”

“Graham! We need to call him. He’ll know what to do.” I unlock my phone and call my husband.

Voicemail. He must be in a meeting or dealing with a situation.

“What did you see?” Ember doesn’t wait for me to answer before heading toward the door.

I leap in front of her and block her path. Even though I’m pregnant, I’m not immobile.

“Hey!” She scowls at me.

“You may listen and read about true crime, but that doesn’t mean you need to see it with your own eyes.” I try calling Graham again. Sometimes when I call back right away, he’ll answer. Other times he can’t. Hopefully this time is the former.

Voicemail.

Ugh. I leave a pleading message for him to call me back, but if he’s chasing down a criminal there isn’t much he can do.

Ember crosses her arms. “At least tell me what you saw.”

I hesitate.

“I’m old enough to handle it.” She inches closer.

“It isn’t about age. I’m not sure I can deal with being able to unsee that.”

“We both know it isn’t blood, guts, or gore. That room has been sealed longer than you’ve been alive. I can handle bones.”

If I tell her, there’s no going back. I don’t want Graham upset with me. What would Claire do? My sister always seemed to know the right thing to do.

She wouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place. Not helpful.

Ember gives me a pleading look. “I’m going to find out eventually. I already know what happened to a lot of people who used to live here. This can’t be any worse.”

I sigh. “Actually, it can.”

She lifts a brow. “Now you have to tell me.”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea.” I check my phone. Nothing from Graham. Ember’s right—she’ll find out soon enough. After I tell Graham about this, his colleagues are going to be all over that pool room.

Ember squeezes her hands together. “Please, Kenzi. I deserve to know what’s in my own house.”

“Fine. There are several left hands—all bones—embedded in the wall. That means multiple dead people. Nobody has two left hands.”

Her face scrunches in disgust. “Are we related to mobsters?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” I try calling Graham again, but give up when I get voicemail for the third time.

“Wait!” Her eyes light up. “You only found hands? Nothing else?”

“Right. What are you getting at?”

“That means they might not be dead. Think about it. Mobsters cut people’s hands off as a punishment. Those are probably just body parts of people who walked away alive and well.” She looks relieved. “Maybe not well, but definitely alive. Some of them could still be around today, depending on when it happened.”

I’m no less horrified than before. Our relatives cut off people’s hands inside this house. They tortured people, dismembered them. I knew about the murders, but this just feels different. Killing people at least puts an end to their suffering. Chopping off body parts then sending them away…

The thought makes me shudder.

I just saw the evidence of it. I don’t want to disturb Ember, so I keep my thoughts to myself. “Let’s close the door and let the authorities deal with it.”

“You want to walk away from this amazing discovery?” Disappointment washes over her face.

“Amazing?”

“We could solve a crime!” Her eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Podcasters would talk about us. How our genius detective work brought justice to families who always wondered what their grandparents endured because they refused to talk about it.”

I have to admire Ember for her imagination and optimism. It’s hard for me to picture anything that fantastical happening in real life. Best case scenario in my mind is the police using DNA technology to find the living relatives of people who lost their hands. End of story, no fanfare.

9

Graham

Every muscle aches as I stumble into the break room and fill my mug with coffee. The chase was not only longer, but also trickier, than usual. The suspect ran into an abandoned building full of obstacles to avoid, such as crumbled walls and holes in the floors.

But I got him. Now he’s being booked into the county jail and I can finally have my long overdue lunch. My stomach roars and my eyelids grow heavy as I gulp down the liquid caffeine. It barely helps.

Hopefully the rest of the day goes off without a hitch.

I grab my sack lunch and practically inhale my sandwich. Even though I have plenty of money at my disposal, I still love the simple things in life—my low-paying but highly rewarding job and a basic turkey sandwich with cheese, mayo, and mustard.

Once the food has disappeared into my stomach, I check my phone to see if there’s anything on the schedule for the rest of the day or if I’ll be doing paperwork thanks to that bank robber.

The first thing I see is a slew of missed calls, voicemails, and texts from Kenzi.

My heart sinks into my stomach. Did Ryker return to the house after I threatened him and do something he’ll soon regret? Or was my wife right about her mother and she tried burning the house down again?

I listen to the messages and scan over the texts, not that they tell me anything beyond the fact that she needs me to call her back yesterday. I call her back, and she answers on the first ring.

“Graham!”

I try to keep my worry out of my tone. “Hey, gorgeous. Everything okay?”

“No! I found another hidden entrance, and you won’t believe what’s inside.”

Relief floods me. Ryker didn’t do anything to anyone, and Regina didn’t burn down the house. I can handle whatever’s in the secret entrance. It’s not like anyone is dead.

“There are bones in there,” Kenzi says, proving me wrong.

“Are they human?”

“Left hands.”

I wasn’t expecting that. “You found a bunch of left hands in the house?”

“Embedded in the wall. Almost like a decoration—or a warning.”

“Is it worse than the secret lab?”

“It’s too early to say. I didn’t get a good look around the entire pool room. Ember was there, and I didn’t want her inside.”

“That’s smart—wait. Did you say pool room?”

“Yeah, there’s an entire swimming pool in there. It’s disgusting, but nothing compared to the hand bones! We need to do something.”

“How long would you guess they’ve been there?”

“Decades. Maybe longer.”

“Okay, so not an immediate threat.” That’s good. We have enough of those already. “Is anyone in there now? Can you close off the room? Who knows about this?”

“Too many questions. It’s empty and closed now. Unless our daughter posted about it on social media, then it’s just the three of us.”

“Let’s keep it that way. Where is the entrance?”

She explains where it is in the fourth wing. It looks like we’re going to have to update that portion of the house soon because if there are any surprises left in the old Brannon house, that’s where they’ll be.

I tell her to expect the authorities to arrive soon then end the call before spreading the news to my coworkers. Soon, several of us head to my home.

Everything in me wants to join them, but for obvious reasons I can’t. My family seems happy to have me at their side, so at least I’m doing something useful.

Kenzi, Ember, and I stand at the edge of the woods waiting for the other law enforcement to come out with an update. Carol is still at work, and Jack is keeping an eye on Regina—if ever there is a time for her to rise it would be now. I don’t know that any of us are fully convinced the woman is paralyzed.

If anybody would fake such a condition, it’s her.

Footsteps sound behind us.

I reach for my weapon.

Billa appears, and I relax. She appears even wispier than usual and has dark circles under her eyes. I haven’t seen her since we got news of Regina’s return.

Kenzi fills her in on the newly discovered room and its contents.

My sister-in-law turns green. “I don’t understand how one family can be so cruel.”

“Nobody alive is,” Kenzi says.

“No one?” Billa lifts a brow.

“Regina isn’t a Brannon by birth.”

“She may as well be.” Billa tucks some hair behind an ear. “Is the old cow staying in her bed?”

Kenzi doesn’t answer right away. Interesting. I’ll have to ask her about that later.

“Regina hasn’t moved,” I assure Billa. “Jack and Carol have been keeping a close eye on her. I even chewed her out, and she didn’t so much as flinch.”

My wife and her half-sister both give me the same quizzical expression.

“Wish I’d been there for that,” Billa says. “If you do it again, let me know. I’d gladly break my boycott of the house to see that.”

“Not much to see. I just stood up for Kenzi and told the woman what I think of her.”

“And she didn’t react?”

“Nope.”

Billa looks deep in thought. “I wouldn’t mind giving her a piece of my mind too.”

Kenzi points to the house. “Look!”

Two officers step outside carrying dark, sealed evidence bags.

Billa leans forward. “Are those the hands?”

Ember gasps. “I want to see!”

I stiffen. “No you don’t.”

Billa nudges me. “Go find out what they are.”

“Not you too. I’m not on this case. Conflict of interest since I live here.”

“But they can tell you what they’ve found, right?”

Ember gives me her doe eyes, which often works.

Not this time. I’m won’t budge on this. “I’m not going to interrupt them—they’re busy and need to concentrate. I’ll find out what I can later at the station.”

“You’re no fun.” My daughter pouts.

Kenzi puts her hands on my arm. “He takes his job very seriously. You should be proud of him.”

Ember sighs. “But this is a big deal. Those bones have been in our walls this whole time we’ve been living here. We deserve answers!”

Billa turns to her. “Same. For all we know, Regina was involved.”

“If Graham says it’s best to wait,” Kenzi says, “then it is. I’m dying of curiosity too, but he knows what he’s talking about. He wouldn’t have the job he does otherwise.”

Ember doesn’t seem to even hear her. She turns to me. “Whose hands are those? I have to know!”

“We won’t know for a while. It takes time to run the DNA, and a case this old won’t be top priority.”

“But you could nudge it up the line.”

“You have influence,” Billa adds.

“Maybe, but cases with living murderers on the loose will be run first, no matter what I do or say.”

“Regina could be involved. It’s a distinct possibility.”

“Other criminals would still be higher priority than a paralyzed elderly woman who was just released from prison despite her life sentence.”

They both sigh dramatically. It’s clear they’re related.

Kenzi pats my arms but looks at them. “Let’s give him a break. He’s doing all he can.”

A commotion sounds around the side of the house.

My wife, daughter, and sister-in-law all look at me with wide eyes.

“Stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.” I hurry around the building.

Three of my colleagues are inspecting one of the hands.

“What’s going on?” I ask, knowing they might not tell me.

Whit looks up at me. “This one has a bit of skin remaining at the wrist.”

My breath catches. “It’ll be easier to extract DNA.”

“That isn’t the best part.”

“It gets better?”

Glenn nods with a gleam in his eye. “There’s part of a tattoo still on it.”

He can’t be serious. “After all this time?”

“It would appear so.”

Savannah turns to me, her youthful excitement reminding me of my daughter’s. “I recognize it!”

“The tattoo?”

“Yeah. I’ve been going over cold cases in my spare time. I saw this exact one in a file just last month. The guy who lost his hand drew it when reporting the crime.”

“How old was the case?”

“From about fifty years ago.”

Everything disappears around me.

The timing fits. Regina could’ve been involved with the crimes—or know who was.

10

Kenzi

Graham knows something about the hands, but he’s staying quiet. Won’t talk because it’s an active investigation now, when before it was a cold case—that means there must be a tie to someone living, and I can only think of one person that could be.

My mother.

Another possibility is Jack, but the chances of my brother being involved with anything—especially something nefarious and cruel—are so low they’re almost nonexistent. He spent most of his life in that tiny apartment he and Carol live in now.

Unless he saw something. That could explain why my mother hid him away. If she didn’t want him talking, his captivity would’ve ensured his silence. Even if he did see something, that would be the extent of his involvement. My brother couldn’t hurt a fly.

I’m trying to figure out how Graham would know Regina could be involved with the hands, and now I’m even more curious than Ember and Billa. I wish my husband could tell me something, but he can’t. I have to trust him like I implored my sister and daughter. If he could say something without getting into trouble or risking the integrity of the case, he would.

After starting the dishwasher, I head upstairs to look for Graham. Often when he’s knee-deep in a case, he goes to a room he’s turned into an office of sorts. Light shines from Ember’s room. Hopefully she’s doing homework and not trying to find anything about the hands online.

It wouldn’t surprise me if something was up already. People are always curious about the Brannon mansion, and anytime the police show up, neighbors start talking. At least this time it was in the middle of the day, so maybe they were able to come and go without anyone noticing.

Doubtful.

Just to be sure, I hurry over to Ember’s room. She’s sprawled out on her bed, reading a textbook.

I smile when she glances up. “What are you studying?”

She grimaces. “Chemistry.”

“Need any help?”

“No.”

We both know I’m only asking to be nice. She’s already more advanced than I ever was.

Ember sits up. “Hey, can I talk to you and Dad about something?”

I should’ve known she wouldn’t let up so easily. “He isn’t telling me anything about the hands either.”

“It’s about something else.”

“What?” Now I’m curious.

“I want to talk to both of you together.”

“Let me see what he’s doing. I have a feeling this is going to be one of those nights where he’s buried in work.”

“He isn’t even on that case.”

“I think he found another angle.”

“If anyone can find a loophole, it’s Dad.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

She shrugs. “Let me know when you guys can talk. It won’t take long.”

“You won’t even give me a hint?”

“It has to do with school.”

“No problems?” I study her, unable to read her expression.

“Not really. I just want to change something.”

“I’ll see if your dad can take a break from his work.”

“Thanks.” She turns her attention back to her textbook.

Graham’s in his office. It’s an odd-shaped little room with a big window overlooking the woods and several framed paintings of mysterious people dressed in all black with somber looks. I can only guess they’re relatives of old. It’s like a room full of funeral reminders.

I’m not sure which my husband likes more—that or the view.

He glances up when he notices my presence. “I’m just making notes. I can’t be on the case, but Whit and Savannah want me to tell them everything I know about the history of the house and family.”

“That could take a while.”

“Tell me about it.” He flips through an old journal.

“What’s that?”

“One of Regina’s diaries.”

I don’t know whether to be intrigued or disgusted. “Find anything interesting?”

“Nothing about anyone chopping off hands.”

“Anything else?” I walk over to the window and look out. The moon is big and lights everything surprisingly well. It casts an eerie glow over the treetops.

“She sure hated your dad. At least at this point in her life.”

“I’m not sure those two ever liked each other. Sometimes I wonder if it was an arranged marriage.”

“You really think so?”

“No. They actually looked happy in their wedding pictures. Like any other couple in love. But that changed by the time I came around. Claire too. She said⁠—”

Something down below catches my attention. It sucks the breath out of my lungs.

“What’d she say?” Graham asks.

I don’t even know what he’s asking about because I can’t take my focus from the path outside.

“Kenzi? Everything okay?”

“Looks like the wheelchair came in. Jack and Carol are giving Regina a ride.”

“I’m sure she’s thrilled.” His tone is dry.

“Do you think I’m crazy for thinking she’s faking?”

“After everything she’s pulled? No.”

“You’re not just saying that?” I turn to him.

He looks up at me from the journal. “Definitely not. The stuff in here is even crazier than the things I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I don’t want to get you riled up.”

“It’s that bad?” I groan.

“Worse.”

“You’re right. Don’t tell me.”

I glance back outside. They’re pushing Regina toward the now taped off pool entrance. If I hurry, I can get down there in time to see if my mother reacts to seeing that.

I bolt from the room without giving Graham an explanation.

11

Kenzi

I cling to the railing as I race down the spiral staircase. Can’t risk my life or my baby’s over this, yet I still need to see my mother’s face when she gets to the police tape. If she’s faking her paralysis, she won’t be able to hide the look of shock when she sees that. She’ll know her secrets are about to be exposed.

Assuming she had anything to do with this.

I don’t see how she couldn’t have. Even if my father or uncle were the ones more involved, she’d have had her grubby fingers in it somehow.

My feet nearly slide out from under me as I hurry to the front door, calculating the fastest route to the secret pool room with appendages embedded into the wall. Not only did my relatives chop off people’s hands, but they undoubtedly used them as wall ornamentations to intimidate others.

How could I be descended from such vile people?

I barely manage to close the front door behind me as I make my way around the building, using my phone as a flashlight to watch for piles of dirt and ivy. There’s so much to trip over. Might need to hire the gardener for extra days this week.

By the time I make it to the crime scene, I’m gasping for air. At least I beat the wheelchair.

Unless they turned around to go back the other way. Then all of this was for nothing.

I take in deep breaths, hoping that isn’t the case. What a disappointment that would be.

But I hear voices. Conversation.

They’re on their way. I didn’t miss them.

I lean against a tree and suck in as much oxygen as I can inhale, trying to breathe normally.

Jack and Carol’s voices are growing louder.

Can’t let anyone know I’m here. Turn off my phone’s light. Wait, taking measured breaths.

They round the corner. The wheelchair comes first.

The moonlight is bright. I’ll be able to see Regina’s face without additional light.

None of them look my way. They don’t know I’m here.

Perfect.

I keep my attention zoned in on my mother.

She’s perfectly still, not showing any signs of movement. Her expression is as dull as the dirt under her new wheelchair.

They come to the part of the wall where the police tape is hanging.

My breath hitches. I freeze in place.

Wait.

It’s almost the moment of truth. If Regina is faking, her face will give her away. There’s no way she can hide that kind of shock.

Especially if she doesn’t know she’s being watched.

They reach the police tape.

My mother doesn’t so much as blink. Her hands don’t clench.

Nothing. Not a single reaction. The woman doesn’t even flinch. No turn of the head or anything.

Is she truly paralyzed? Or has she trained herself to be such a good actor over the years that she can even hide true surprise?

I’m tempted to stay hidden and mope, but this is my last chance to see if I can get a reaction out of that woman. I step out into the moonlight.

Jack and Carol both glance over at me, their eyes wide.

“I didn’t see you there, Kenzi,” Jack says.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” I glance at Regina from the corner of my eyes.

Nothing. Again.

“No.” Jack smiles at me, a warm fatherly grin. If only he really was my dad. He’d make a much better parent than either of the ones I actually had.

“What are you doing out here?” Carol asks, her tone indicating she suspects my true motives.

“Oh, just getting some fresh air.” I’m facing her, but my attention is still on my mother. “Trying to make sense of the crazy find in that secret indoor pool. Wild, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. Has Graham heard anything from the station?”

“Not really, other than they think they know who one of the hands belongs to.”

Regina doesn’t budge.

This is extremely disappointing.

Not that I’ll ever let her know that. I hold my head high. “Speaking of him, I should get back inside and see how he’s doing. Nice running into you two.”

“Walk with us,” Jack says.

I can never say no to him. “Sure.”

They make small talk, and I continue to watch our mother from the corner of my eye. Not that it does any good. The woman is either truly paralyzed or she deserves an Oscar for her performance. I’m not sure which.

When we return to the front of the building, someone is walking up the driveway toward the house.

Not just anyone. Ryker.

My stomach sinks. What is he doing back so soon? I ball my fists, ready to tell him off for returning so soon, but then I realize this is actually a good opportunity. With Regina here and him claiming to be a Brannon, she might give a reaction to that.

Jack turns to Carol. “Who’s that?”

“Probably another solicitor.”

“This late?”

I don’t answer the question even though I could. Not when I have another chance to see if Regina will let her mask slip off. If it turns out she’s faking, I’m calling the prison so fast she’s going to get whiplash.

Ryker stops suddenly. He must see us. Four people, even with one in a wheelchair, is probably intimidating.

Good. He shouldn’t be here.

I glance at my mother.

She hasn’t moved an inch, her expression hasn’t changed a bit.

“Ryker!” I wave at him.

His posture relaxes.

My mother continues not showing anything. If she knows about him, she either doesn’t know his name or she’s actually unable to respond physically.

What I wouldn’t give to get a moment in her mind. Only a moment—I wouldn’t want to spend too much time in there.

Our previous squatter makes his way over, stopping several feet away from us.

I fold my arms and stare him down, keeping my mother in my line of sight. “Why are you back so soon? You didn’t hear my husband’s warning?”

“You have to believe me.”

“What’s going on?” Jack asks.

I keep my attention on Ryker. “Secretly living in our walls wasn’t enough?”

Carol gasps. “You’re him?”

My mother continues not moving.

Ryker takes a step closer. “I gave my DNA down at the station. Found out that’s the fastest way to prove that I’m actually a Brannon.”

Did my mother just flinch? Or was that my imagination? The moonlight is partially blocked by the house, so it isn’t as easy to see here.

This is so frustrating.

“We’re unable to test it here.” I step closer to him. “You’re going to have to wait until they call you. For now, you have to leave.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to stay.”

“Not our problem.”

“You’re a Brannon?” Jack tilts his head, studying the potential imposter.

“Yes.” He doesn’t offer more explanation.

“How?”

Ryker smirks. “Well, when a man and a woman love each other, they⁠—”

“Stop with the theatrics,” I interrupt. “Who do you think your parents are?”

“Jack Brannon is my father.”

My father’s brother.

“I’m Jack Brannon,” my brother says.

I stare at him, unblinking. There’s no way.

Is there? No. It can’t be.

I turn to my mother. She’s in the same position with the same blank expression.

Carol gasps. “You’re his father?”

“We also have an Uncle Jack.” I turn to my mother. “Right? Even though Dad is legally Jack’s father, his brother is his biological parent?”

Regina blinks.

Is that a ‘blink once for yes’ type of a thing, or just a blink? Has Ember tried to get her to blink for answers?

This whole thing is maddening. Not that I need his confirmation. We already know what I said is true.

“I’m not a father,” Jack says. But there’s a hint of something in his eyes. Doubt?

The slight gape in Carol’s mouth tells me she sees it too.

I turn to Regina. “Do you have something to do with this?”

She of course doesn’t respond.

“When did Uncle Jack die?” I demand.

Nobody answers.

I’m not current on my Brannon family history, but something strikes me that I didn’t think of earlier—I’m almost certain my uncle Jack died not long after the time my brother Jack was born. That was why my brother was named after him.

In other words, there’s no possible way Ryker is my uncle’s son.

He has to be my brother Jack’s son. But how, when my brother spent most of his life locked away in the house?

12

Ember

The tension in this kitchen is so thick, I can practically see it in the air. Mom, Dad, Jack, and Carol are all around the table, and though nobody’s saying anything, it’s like they’re having a conversation with their eyes.

Usually things are really chill when my aunt and uncle are around, but they’re obviously as upset as my parents. It’s so weird.

And frustrating. Definitely frustrating. I really want to have a conversation with my parents—no, I need to talk to them—about my idea. The sooner the better, but I have a feeling if I bring up anything now, they’re only going to get mad.

I clear my throat. “So, uh, anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“This doesn’t concern you.” Dad doesn’t so much as glance my way.

“It kind of seems like it does.”

That earns me a glare. At least it’s something. Maybe I should try changing the subject. That might help. It’s worth a try.

“You and Kenzi agreed to talk to me tonight. I have an important matter to discuss.”

“Is it life or death?” He’s back to not looking at me.

“No, but it’s close.”

“Then it can wait.”

“Why?” I demand.

He turns to me, his brows drawn together. “Can’t you see we’re already dealing with something?”

“You don’t even know what I want to discuss! It’s important.”

“It sounds like it can wait.” Somehow his eyebrows manage to get even closer than they were.

“Fine.” I get up and slam my chair against the table.

He starts to say something, but I don’t stick around to hear it. They don’t want to hear from me, so I’m not going to listen to him. The least they could do is hear what I need to talk about and then decide they don’t think it’s important. But getting the brush-off without even giving me a chance is infuriating.

I go straight to the front door then slam that, too. It doesn’t help assuage my anger.

How can they just ignore me like that? Kenzi promised we’d talk tonight.

To be fair, I’ve never seen Dad this upset before. Not that I’ve known him my whole life, but still. I’ve known him long enough, and he’s a calm guy. Not what I’d pictured living with a cop would be like. Maybe it’s that he missed out on so much of my life—not that it matters now. Whatever’s bothering them is so big they won’t even hear me out.

Which is fine. They can deal with their issues and ignore me. Whatever. I’ll go back to my friend the gravestone. The other Ember Brannon always listens to me. She understands. Her family didn’t get her, either.

Her own brother tried to kill her. Eventually succeeded.

My feet slow as I pass the newly discovered pool hall. It’s blocked with police tape, but that’s hardly a deterrent. I move it aside to open the door.

The musty odor makes me cough, so I cover my mouth with my arm and step inside, using my phone for light. The far wall on the back has gashes, presumably where the hands were. I walk over, watching every step, then study the wall.

There aren’t any more hands. I didn’t get to see those. I’m not sure what everyone thinks would happen if I did. It isn’t like I don’t watch true crime documentaries. I’ve seen plenty, and some super old bones aren’t going to traumatize me.

But I don’t care. I’m here now, so I walk along the walls until I’ve come full circle. Now this room is just where a gross old pool has been closed up for too long. It smells bad, and anything interesting has already been removed.

My parents don’t think I can handle anything. I’m in high school, yet they treat me like a baby. Maybe once the actual baby is born, I’ll get some respect around here. They’ll finally realize I’m mature and can handle things they don’t trust I can.

I leave the stuffy, smelly room. After closing the door, I return the police tape to where it was. It’s quiet out here, which means everyone is still inside. They trust me enough to be out here on my own but not enough to tell me what has them so upset or even to hear me out.

Heat burns in my chest, and I stomp toward the woods. Everything in life so unfair. My parents won’t hear me out. I can’t have a relationship with Luke even though we’re practically the same age. My friends have moved on and don’t care about me anymore. Kids still whisper about me because I live in the Brannon house.

I’m a freak at home and in town. Nobody gets me. Well, except Luke, but we’ve already established where that relationship stands. The only way that will change is if I can get my parents to listen to me. My plan will not only get me space from all the jerks at school but will let me spend time with Luke too.

Getting my parents to hear me out at this point is a bigger task than climbing Mount Everest. And with as focused as they are about whatever’s got them all hot and bothered, they wouldn’t even see a mountain if it jumped in front of them.

Snap!

I stop in my tracks. Look around, shine my light.

See nothing.

That breaking branch wasn’t far, and most forest animals don’t come this close to the house.

Maybe it’s Billa, but I don’t think she’s been to the house since my grandma arrived.

“Hello?”

Footsteps sound not far away.

My breath hitches.

Someone emerges from the trees.

I turn my light toward them.

My heart leaps into my throat.

It’s that guy who was living in my bedroom wall.

Ryker.

He takes another step toward me.

13

Graham

Never in a million years would I have guessed the number of secrets in this family. Sure, I’ve lived around here since long before moving into the mansion and had a basic knowledge about the Brannon family—who doesn’t? They founded the town, and their house has always been said to hold more tales than anyone could guess.

There were always whispers of murders throughout the centuries. Not only of the hired help, but deaths of the Brannons themselves. Some say the death count is in the hundreds and that vengeful ghosts roam the halls, angry at their unjust ends.

Those are the stories.

From what I know now, there’s truth to them. Great exaggerations, especially the parts about ghouls, but a tiny element of truth. The house has its creaks and groans, but nothing that can’t be explained away by the age of this structure.

Now, however, I’m really starting to see the old Brannon rumors come true in front of me at this kitchen table. Carol will hardly look at Jack. He’s fidgeting and mumbling to himself. Kenzi keeps looking between them, clearly wanting to say something but holding back.

And we can’t forget Regina sitting motionless in her wheelchair in the other room. I swear there was something in her eyes when Ryker showed up. I can’t speak to whether she’s faking the paralysis, but she knows something about our former squatter.

I press my palms on the table. “Someone needs to say something. Now.”

“Like what?” Jack asks.

“Anything! I just brushed off my daughter because of whatever’s going on in here. If we don’t start talking about Ryker, then I’m going to find out what Ember wants to ask us.”

“Go.” Jack waves toward the door.

It isn’t like him to want to leave tensions hanging.

“Do you know something?” I ask him.

“Graham.” Kenzi nudges me.

“No,” Carol says. “I’d like to hear this.”

Jack swallows, looks away.

“I’m not upset about your having a past before me.” She rests a hand on his. “But I would like the truth.”

Color fills Jack’s cheeks, and he slowly turns to his wife. “When I was younger, Mother brought me a girl and told me we were courting. I didn’t know what that meant, but eventually I figured it out. We grew close.” He turns away from her again.

“Did you have a baby with her?”

“Mother said the baby died.” Jack’s voice cracks. “I never saw it. Never even knew if it was a boy or a girl. She told me to forget about it.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Not because I doubt him, but because the depths of Regina’s depravity seems to know no end.

“You think Ryker is yours?” Kenzi asks.

He shrugs.

Carol wraps her arms around Jack. “That’s awful. She never should’ve put you through that.”

“Who was the girl?” I ask. “If we can’t get answers from Regina, then maybe Ryker’s mom can fill in the blanks.”

“Wait.” Kenzi holds up a hand. “Ryker said she’s dead. He has to know about his connection to our family because his mom told him.” Kenzi rubs her temples. “If he thinks he’s a relative, why didn’t he just knock on the door and introduce himself instead of living in the walls? It gives us no reason to trust him.”

I nod. “I’m certainly ready to get a restraining order.”

Jack turns to me, his nostrils flaring. “Don’t you dare!”

I jolt, never having heard such conviction from him before. “You really think he’s your son?”

“Maybe. I want to find out before we make any decisions.”

“I can try to push the DNA test at work, but with the backlog of current cases, it isn’t going to be anytime soon. If you’re serious about this, our best bet might be to do one of those kits you order. It will be able to tell us if you’re his parent or a relative. We’ll have answers, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

Jack sits up straight. “How do we get those?”

“I can order them.” Carol pulls out her phone. “We might be able to send them back within a week.”

“That’s going to take forever.” Jack turns to me. “You really can’t make it happen faster through your work?”

“Sorry. Not unless one of you is a murderer.”

“You can’t say it’s related to the hands?” Jack pleads with his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be ethical. The two cases aren’t truly connected.”

Jack frowns and turns to Carol. “Order them. I guess we’ll just have to wait. In the meantime, we should invite him to stay.”

I give him a double take. Did he really just say that?

“What? Ryker must be my son. He knew my name.”

“Yeah,” Carol agrees. “Even if Ryker isn’t Jack’s, he could be the other Jack’s.”

“He’s not,” Jack says. “Mother killed my uncle before I was born.”

We all stare at him.

“Are you sure?” Kenzi asks.

“That’s what she told me.” He looks at his hands. “Our uncle violated her, so she made sure he paid.”

Kenzi’s face loses color. “You aren’t just named after him? He’s… your biological dad?”

“Yeah. Her husband chose my name. He said it was so she didn’t forget what she did.”

My stomach roils. This family is seriously messed up. Not that I’m one to talk. I fathered Ember with Claire, and am now married to Kenzi—though I didn’t know they were sisters when I started to fall for my wife.

Once you’re touched by the Brannon family, it appears there’s no getting away from the madness.

14

Ember

My parents would want me to run from this guy, but that’s exactly what keeps me in place as he approaches.

He stops and brushes some hair from his eyes. “You’re not scared of a stranger coming at you from the woods?”

I shrug and act like my heart isn’t thundering in my ears. “You lived in my wall and didn’t do anything to me. What makes me think you’re anything other than a teddy bear?”

His mouth curves up into a crooked smile.

“Is it true you didn’t spy on me?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though you knew I had to be getting dressed in there?” I lift my brows.

“Dude, you’re a teenager. If I’d have gotten caught, I’d probably go to jail for life for being a perv. I’m no perv. Just needed a place to crash.”

“You don’t have any friends?”

He swipes at his hair again. “Not around here.”

I study him. “How’d you get in my wall?”

“My mom told me how to get in.”

“Who’s your mom?”

“Nobody you’d know, little girl.”

I glare at him. “I’m not a little girl, you trash. You just said I’m a teenager.”

He snickers. “Nice burn. I like you.”

“Perv.”

He lets out a belly laugh. “I could see you and me getting along.”

“Whatever. I doubt my dad would let you back in the house.”

“Except he might not have a say.”

That catches my attention. “Why not?”

He leans against a tree. “I’m a Brannon.”

It takes me a moment to find my voice. “What?”

“My mom says Jack’s my dad and you people are loaded. Speaking of, got any money I can borrow?”

I snort. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, pal. I’m broke.”

“What do you call broke? I bet you have at least twenty bucks to your name.”

“Nope.” I pull out my pockets, which are empty.

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

“Wait. Which Jack is your dad?”

“I’m guessing the slow guy.”

I clock Ryker in the eye before I realize I’ve moved toward him. “He isn’t slow, you imbecile! If you knew half of what he’s been through in his life, you’d be in awe of him. In fact, you’d be lucky to have him for a dad—if your story pans out.”

He rubs his face. “Point taken.”

I shake out my sore hand. “Besides, you can’t be his son. He spent most of his life locked away from the world, thanks to my psychotic grandparents. My grandpa wanted nothing to do with him and told my grandma to get rid of him. She thought keeping him hidden in a wall was the greatest idea because she could trick her husband and keep her son. You sure you want to be related to this bunch?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want. I’m one of you.”

“You can’t be Jack’s son.”

“I am.”

“How?”

“You really don’t know how that works?” He cocks a brow.

I shove him. “I mean, if he was locked away, how did your mom find him? Get pregnant by someone who had no access to the outside world?”

“Your grandma thought he needed a friend.”

“Friend.” I snort.

“How do you think my mom knew about the secret entrance to later tell me about it?”

I can’t argue that logic.

“Look, I don’t need to prove myself to you. I just need to wait on the DNA test. In the meantime, I need a place to crash.”

“We’ve already established I’m broke.”

He stares me down. “But you can convince your parents.”

“Why? What’s in it for me?”

“Helping a guy in need.”

“Can’t your mom help you?”

Ryker takes a deep breath. “No, she died recently. It wasn’t until she was on her deathbed that she told me about you people and this house with its secret entrances. She had nothing to leave me but knew my dad could help me out.”

I study him, trying to figure out if the wild tale could be true. His knowledge of the secret entrance is pretty convincing. People don’t just come across those by accident. And he does seem familiar. I’m not the greatest at telling when relatives look like each other, but there’s something about his features that do scream Brannon.

Or maybe it’s just that he’s crazy enough to have lived in our walls undetected for so long.

“Well?” He throws me a questioning glance.

“I don’t know what to think.”

“Can you at least convince your parents to give me a chance? If I’m really Jack’s son, don’t I deserve to stay here instead of on the streets? To get a chance to know my dad? I’ve always wondered about him.”

Guilt stings. I know that wound all too well. My entire life I wanted to know my dad, but all my mom had was a first name. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he’s in my life now—even if I am currently mad at him for brushing me off.

“Will you help me?” Ryker’s pleading expression is even more pathetic now.

I sigh. “Fine, but give me a couple of days. I can’t get through to them right now, and I have some other stuff I need to talk to them about first.”

He stares at me like he’s considering it. “Okay. We’ll meet back here in two days. Same time, same place. Deal?”

I can’t help but wonder if this is a bad idea.

Even if it is, I shake his hand. “Deal.”

“Thank you.” He seems to genuinely mean it.

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”

“See you in two days.” He wanders back in the woods.

Is that where he’s staying now? It doesn’t matter. I shove those thoughts from my mind and go back to the house. It’s quiet, meaning the adults must be done talking about whatever’s bothering them.

Up in my room, I find a creepy old doll sitting on my bed.

I swear I locked it in a room nobody ever uses.

Not that it matters. I’m done with it now.

This game is over. I pick up the doll, carry it to the balcony overlooking the first level.

I throw it as hard as I can. The doll falls almost in slow motion. Lands with a hard thud and breaks into three separate pieces.

Now I can put it out of my mind.

15

Kenzi

My head pounds as I climb into the empty bed. It has to be from the stress of everything—my mother’s return, Ryker showing up, learning my mother pimped her son out to some random girl. It’s all too much.

The more I learn about this family, the more I realize I don’t know. Secrets lie hidden under more secrets, which are covering even more. I always knew something was off with Jack being named after our uncle, but I never imagined just how off it really was. My uncle impregnated my mother, she killed him, and my father forced her to name Jack after him.

It’s no wonder I have a headache. I down a bottle of water just in case dehydration is playing into it, then I head into the hallway.

Graham is typing away at his laptop and doesn’t notice my arrival. I leave without a word because I don’t want to bother him while he’s in the middle of working. He’s doing what he can to keep Ryker away from us. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to trust the stranger after what he did. The thought of letting him back into our home makes me shudder.

On the other hand, if he is a Brannon—and Jack’s son, no less—I’m not sure what to do. That makes him family. I don’t want Regina here, but look where she’s staying.

I make my way downstairs to refill my water bottle. My throat is parched, making me think that’s playing into my headache. I yawn several times as I wait for the bottle to fill.

Tap, tap.

I whip around to see who’s in the hall.

Nobody.

Was that the house settling, or is someone in the hall? I top off my bottle then peek into the hallway.

Empty.

Sometimes I think the house itself likes to play games on me. I drink half my bottle, refill it, then head toward my father’s office.

My mouth dries even more as I approach the room where my mother is staying. The last thing I want is to be near her again, but I need to talk with Jack and Carol while Graham is upstairs. Talking about Ryker gets too emotional when they’re all in a room together.

I hesitate at the doorway, half expecting to find Regina’s bed empty. But she’s lying there, unmoving. Her wheelchair is in the corner, and something about that gives me the chills. Probably because I’m already on edge from hearing footsteps but not seeing anyone.

My breath hitches as I creep toward the door to Jack and Carol’s apartment. I should’ve waited until morning to talk with them, when they would be in the kitchen for breakfast. Too late now. I’m already here.

Knock, knock.

A few moments later, the door opens. Jack appears, his expression tense. It relaxes when our gazes lock. “Kenzi. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Is this a good time to talk?”

He glances back into the apartment. “Yeah, I guess. We’re getting ready for bed.”

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Color fills his cheeks. “Nothing like that. Come in.”

I step inside and take in the small living area. I’ve only been in here a few times because I hate thinking about what Jack went through. It has a living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a bedroom. It’s barely bigger than the studio apartment I had in LA before moving back here. I have to give props to Carol for living here when they could have any room in this mansion.

While most people would want to run screaming from the place they were trapped in for decades, Jack finds comfort in being here. Carol doesn’t want to ask him to live anywhere if he’s happy here.

When she steps out of the bathroom, her eyes widen in surprise. “Kenzi, hi.”

“Sorry to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother. Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just hoping to talk to you two privately.”

Carol glances at Jack before giving me half a smile and gesturing toward their cozy sofa. “Sure, have a seat.”

It’s a little tight with all of us on it, but it isn’t so bad. This is actually roomier than my old studio.

I clear my throat. “I know Graham is less than receptive to the idea of Ryker coming to the house, but I’d like to hear you out.”

Carol lifts a brow. “You’re open to the squatter coming back?”

When she says it like that, it makes me sound like a bad mom. “He would have to be Jack’s son with a hundred percent certainty, and even then we’d have to check his criminal history. But I do want to at least hear what you have to say.”

Jack sighs. “I already said what I think earlier. His age fits, and he does look like he could be my son.”

“Does he resemble the woman who’d be his mom?”

He glances at Carol.

She squeezes his hand. “Don’t feel bad talking about this in front of me, hon. If he’s your son, I fully support any decision you make—and I certainly don’t hold anything against you for having a past before you met me. That would be crazy.”

Relief floods my brother’s face before he turns back to me. “Yes, Ryker looks like her.”

“So, chances are good his story holds up.”

Jack nods. “After Mother told me the baby died, Lisa just stopped showing up one day. I thought she got tired of me. Why wouldn’t she? Any other guy could go anywhere with her, but I was stuck in here. It wasn’t like I had anything to offer her.”

Carol grabs his hand again. “Other than the fact that you’re the most amazing, kindhearted person alive.”

“Do you want to get to know Ryker?” I ask.

They both nod in agreement.

“Will you feel differently if he has a criminal history?”

Jack frowns. “We already know he was arrested for trespassing.”

“I mean beyond that.”

He visibly relaxes. “If he’s my son, I want to get to know him no matter what.”

“Even if he could be a threat to our family? To Ember?”

My brother hesitates. “He said he didn’t spy on her. It’s true he could’ve snuck out to the main part of the house and hurt people, but he didn’t. All he did was stay in his little area to have a place to sleep. I think he’s proven he doesn’t want to harm any of us. He could’ve, but he didn’t.”

A point I’m inclined to agree with but don’t know if I’ll ever be able to convince Graham of. I glance at Carol. “What do you think?”

“Jack’s right. Ryker had every opportunity to steal from us, or worse, and he didn’t. I agree he shouldn’t have broken in and lived in the walls. It would’ve been better if he’d have knocked and introduced himself, but we all make mistakes. He’s young and didn’t think it through. I’d like to think if he had better parental support, he would make better choices in the future.”

“I can see that.” I glance back at my brother. “What was his mother like? Was she a trustworthy person?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He gives me a curious glance.

“She raised Ryker. It has everything to do with the man you want to bring into our home.” I rub my belly. “While I’d like to give him a chance, we really do have to think about the kids first. Ember and the baby.”

“She was a good person,” Jack says. “Always nice, always thoughtful. She liked to bring me fast food. Even though I couldn’t leave, she wanted me to experience as much as I could. I was curious about the advertisements I saw on TV.”

“Anything else?”

He sits up straighter. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know her values? What kind of a person she was?”

Jack huffs in frustration. “It was a long time ago.”

“She was also the only person you saw in like twenty years, other than our mother. I’d think you’d be able to remember plenty.”

He lets out a long breath. “I didn’t see her every day for all that time. Like I said, she stopped coming by without notice. Mother has always been so territorial—she probably got jealous over the baby or something. Then I didn’t get any more friends.” He looks away and rubs an eye.

Carol hugs him. “It’s okay. We’re here now, and you can go out anytime you want.”

“And we can send Regina away, as well,” I add.

My sister-in-law shoots me an annoyed glance.

What did I do?

I rise and pat my brother on the shoulder. “We’re all here for you, Jack. In the meantime, I’ll talk with Graham some more about Ryker, okay? We’ll see if I can soften him up to the idea.”

He gives me a woeful smile. “Thanks.”

“We’ll figure something out. I promise.”

As Jack nods, I see myself out.

My mother looks like she’s shifted in her bed. I swear her feet were in the middle, but now they’re sticking up on the lefthand side.

I’m probably imagining things. Not only am I stressed out by everything going on, but I have a headache. The water seems to have helped some, but the pounding won’t stop.

As much as I want to run from the woman who gave me life, I creep over to her bed. I’m almost certain her feet had been centered, but I also hadn’t paid that close of attention.

Next time I won’t make the same mistake.

I make eye contact with her. Her gaze darts, and I might be imagining it, but she seems uncomfortable with me staring at her.

Maybe because I suspect the truth—she’s fully mobile. I just don’t have proof. Perhaps I should order some cameras and get what I need.

Or she could be nervous around me because my husband chewed her out, even if it was deserved.

“I’m watching you.”

This time she holds my gaze steadily.

“If it turns out you’re faking, you’re going right back to that prison. Got it?”

She doesn’t so much as blink.

Fine by me. I march back upstairs to see if I can talk to Graham about our potential nephew.

I’m not sure he’ll ever agree to let Ryker step foot back into this house.

Not that I can blame him. But if the guy is Jack’s son, they should have the opportunity to get to know each other.

There has to be middle ground somewhere. I just have to find it.

16

Ember

The last two weeks have been the most frustrating in my life. My dad is focused on proving Ryker is evil incarnate and shouldn’t ever be allowed back in this house. Kenzi has been trying to convince him to give the guy a chance. She keeps saying if he’s Jack’s son, we owe him that much.

Dad doesn’t see it that way at all. He isn’t convinced Ryker wasn’t watching me through a now-sealed hole in my wall the entire time.

None of them have any idea I’ve been talking with my cousin—or possible cousin—almost every day. He’s found somewhere to stay in the woods, and we’ve been meeting near the edge of the trees nightly.

He’s a nice guy who has had a rough go at life, not unlike my uncle. Like father like son, he was raised without his dad and lost his mom recently.

We have both of those things in common—the term “recent” being relative in my case—but now he has the chance to get to know his dad. I think he should take it, but he has to wait for the test results to come in proving Jack is his dad. It seems obvious to me. The guy is clearly a Brannon, and the more time I spend with him, the more obvious it is. Not just in his looks, but in his mannerisms and the way he talks, too.

Sure, we’re all unique, but among all of us relatives, there are similarities. Even with Billa, who’s the most different. I think she and Ryker might have the most in common, maybe because they were both denied as members of the family for so long.

But none of this will matter if Dad doesn’t get on board. He’s being Mr. Tough Guy, and his police side is coming out like I’ve never seen before. He and Jack barely talk these days, and I can even sense some tension between him and Kenzi.

There’s definitely tension between the two of us, and not even so much because I’m on Ryker’s side—I haven’t told him that yet. I’m going to wait until after the results come in to bring that up. Besides, I’m still waiting to be able to talk with him and Kenzi about my big idea. It’s been two weeks, and they continue to push me off saying there are other more important things to think about.

I’m going to lose my mind, I swear! Things haven’t gotten any better on the school front. And the cops returning to the house several times because of that stupid pool and the hands hasn’t helped matters. Every time they come around, people talk.

They whisper about me in the halls, not even bothering to hide it. I’m just the freak who lives in the haunted house with walls made of bones.

Every time I think about it, my blood boils. I’m done waiting on my dad being ready to talk with me.

I need to talk with him and Kenzi, and I’m not going to keep putting it off.

They’re going to hear me out. Tonight.

It’s another awkward family dinner.

Jack, like every other night, asked Dad if the DNA results came back to the station because they haven’t heard back from the mail-in place yet. Dad got annoyed by the question and snapped at Jack.

I’ve never seen so much tension in this family as I have in the last few weeks.

It’s as good a time as any to inform my parents they can’t keep ignoring me, so I clear my throat. “Dad, Kenzi.”

They both look at me. At least I have their attention finally.

“Remember that thing I wanted to talk about two weeks ago? You can’t put it off any longer. We either talk, or I’m taking things into my own hands.”

Dad’s expression stiffens even further. “Ember, I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“And I don’t appreciate you ignoring me for two weeks.”

“We haven’t been ignoring you. I just need you to wait while we deal with these other things first. We’ll get to you, I promise.”

“This is beyond ridiculous.”

“Ember!”

“I’m done waiting!” I jump to my feet, nearly knocking over my chair. “We’re talking after dinner, period. It’s happening.”

He starts to say something, but I run out of the room before he can finish. Even if he refuses to see it, he’s being completely unfair. I’ve been more than patient, waiting two full weeks to talk to them.

I’ve presented my idea to Ryker, and he thinks it makes a lot of sense. He believes in me. I wish my parents would hear me out. Kenzi says she wants to know what’s on my mind but hasn’t convinced my dad to listen to me. If she’s even tried.

I don’t care if they’re ready to hear from me or not. We’re having this conversation tonight.

My dad isn’t going to keep ignoring me.

When I get back to my room, I skid to a stop in the doorway.

The doll is back on my bed. Not only that, but it’s been restored. I threw it down to the first floor and watched it split into three pieces.

I pick it up by the hair, and the entire doll rises.

Someone fixed it, and they put it back on my bed. They know it was me who broke it.

A cold chill runs through me. It couldn’t have been a ghost, could it? No. Every other time weird things have happened in the house, there’s always been a rational explanation.

But who would’ve done this? Kenzi is as creeped out by the doll as I am. We both lock it away whenever we find it lying around. Unless that’s just what she says, but she’s actually messing with me.

Given the events of the last two weeks, that kind of makes sense. Nobody else has any reason to go near this doll. Carol doesn’t believe in ghosts at all, and ironically enough, she’s never found it lying around.

Just those of us who think the afterlife could be real. Kenzi and I have just enough belief to think it could be credible. Billa believes it so much she won’t even stay in the house. There’s no way she’d mess with a potentially haunted item. It can’t be Ryker because he has no way into the house anymore. The only secret entrance that he knows about is sealed now, and the not-so-secret door to the gross old pool doesn’t count because the pool doesn’t lead inside the house.

Dad, probably because of his police mindset, is even less believing than Carol. That only leaves Jack—who would never play a prank on anyone for fear of hurting anyone’s feelings—and my grandma, who hasn’t moved from her bed except when Jack and Carol put her in the wheelchair.

I don’t know who could be moving the doll around, much less care enough to fix it. The only thing that makes even a tiny bit of sense is Kenzi’s theory that Grandma is faking her condition. If she was, I could see her fixing a creepy old doll and putting it in my room. She might even know I broke it on purpose.

Except the doll has been doing this since before she came back. It was moving around when Grandma was in prison.

Not that it matters because I’m going to find a way to get rid of this thing for good. Maybe I can donate it to a museum or something. There are places who would pay good money for a haunted doll. I’ve heard about some on true crime podcasts. There’s one that was owned by a murderer and actually curses people who touch him.

Thankfully this one isn’t scary like that. It just shows up all over the place.

I don’t want to think about this anymore. There are more important things I need to worry about—like how I can fix things so Luke and I can be together.

Speaking of which, I hear voices downstairs.

Still clinging to the doll’s hair, I storm into the hall then down to an area nobody ever goes. After finding a closed but unlocked door, I toss the doll into the room, activate the lock on the knob, then slam the door shut behind me. Not that it’ll keep the doll in for long, I’m sure. But I can at least put it out of my head for the time being.

Dad and Kenzi come up the stairs just as I’m returning to that part of the house.

I force a smile. “Oh, good! You guys are ready to talk.”

His mouth forms a straight line. “Ember, this really isn’t a good time.”

“It never is anymore. Come on.” I motion toward the room where we usually watch movies together as a family. It’s probably covered in dust at this point.

Kenzi whispers something to him, and surprisingly enough, they actually follow me into the room.

I plop onto the couch, expecting a plume of dust, but nothing happens. Of course not, we have housekeepers.

Dad sits at the very edge of the couch like he expects to leap up at any moment. “Ember…”

“I’ll keep this quick. I know you don’t have time for me anymore.”

His eyes narrow. “Ember!”

“You’re going to deny it?”

Kenzi sits between us and puts a hand on my arm. “We’re really sorry it’s taken so long to hear what you have to say.”

“Both of you?” I glare at Dad.

“We have a lot going on,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

I’m almost tempted to tell him I’ve been talking to Ryker every night, but that would take this conversation in a completely different direction than I want it to go, and I finally have their attention.

Kenzi squeezes my arm. “Tell us what’s on your mind.”

There’s no time to sugarcoat it like I had planned. I’ll probably be lucky if Dad gives me fifteen seconds of his time. So I spit it out. “I want to be homeschooled.”

Dad’s eyes widen. “What?”

“I hate going to school every day. People can’t stand me because of this house.”

Kenzi’s face loses color. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Dad stands. “You can’t do this to her. She’s pregnant.”

“Do what to her?” I rise and stare him down. “Luckily, I’ve had plenty of time to look into it. There are a bunch of online options, and I could do it all myself. All you guys would have to do is fill out some papers to unenroll me from school. Then I can start homeschooling.”

“What about your classes?” Dad says. “Don’t you have to finish those?”

“Finals are next week. It’s the perfect time. I mean, obviously, it would be more ideal if we could’ve started this process two weeks ago, but here we are.”

He rubs his temples. “This is a lot to think about. I’m not sure we can make a big decision like this by next week.”

“Would it have been easier if I’d have been able to ask two weeks ago?”

Dad glares at me. “Fine, the answer is no. I’m not doing this to Kenzi.”

“She doesn’t have to do anything! Did you hear me? All you guys have to do is sign some papers. That’s it!”

“I can’t deal with this right now.” He moves toward the door.

“You don’t have to!” I race over and block him.

“Ember.”

“Dad.”

“Would you two stop?” Kenzi rises from the couch.

“We have enough on our plates,” Dad says.

“I’ll do it.”

I stare in disbelief at her.

Dad looks even more incredulous. “We should talk about this.”

“Sure, but I’m more than happy to help her in this way. Ember’s been getting more and more miserable at school for a while now.”

A phone rings.

Dad reaches into his pocket. His brows furrow when he looks at his screen.

“What is it?” Kenzi asks.

“It’s Whit from the station. Ryker’s DNA results are in.”

I collapse onto the nearest chair.

Now he’ll never agree to let me be homeschooled. He’s going to be even more focused on the Ryker situation than before.

17

Graham

My wife looks at me expectantly. “Is Ryker Jack’s son?”

I put my phone away. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to call Whit back.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Not over text.”

In the chair next to me, my daughter glares at me. “Once again, everything else is more important than me.”

My stomach roils. “Would you stop with the teenage dramatics?”

“Dramatics? You’re the one who’s been ignoring me for two weeks!”

I turn to Kenzi, pleading for help.

She gives our daughter a sympathetic smile. “We appreciate your patience.”

“One of you does,” Ember mumbles.

This is more than I can deal with right now. All of this is, and it’s coming to a head. I can’t believe my daughter wants us to start homeschooling her with everything going on. If all the Ryker insanity wasn’t enough, we’re also expecting a baby.

A baby! Ember doesn’t even realize how much that’s going to change things. Once we have a baby here, crying at all hours, Ember is going to be begging to go back to school. Then we’ll have more paperwork to think about.

Kenzi is saying something to her, but I can’t make sense of it. She may as well be speaking Greek for all I can comprehend.

Everything around me is spinning, and I swear the room is shrinking.

I take a deep breath and head out into the hallway. Center my focus on a statue in the corner. Its sword reminds me I can do this. Everything is happening at once, but it’ll work out.

It has to.

First order of business is to call Whit. I don’t even know what he’s doing at the station at this hour. He’s usually on the daytime shift, like me.

I go to the bedroom, close the door behind me, then call him.

He answers by the third ring. Somehow just hearing him say hello tells me the answer I need.

Ryker is related to this family. Whether he’s Jack’s is yet to be seen, and we’ll probably have to wait for the other results to come in for that since we didn’t submit my brother-in-law’s saliva to the police. He isn’t a criminal. Unlike this guy that everyone else wants to welcome with open arms.

“Whit,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “You got the results?”

“Yeah. I came in to check something on one of my cases that I couldn’t let go of and noticed your results were here.”

They’re not mine, but I let it go. “What are they?”

He hesitates. That confirms my suspicions.

“The guy is related to your mother-in-law. I’m not a DNA expert, but I’d say he’s her grandson.”

Which would make Ryker Jack’s son. Both Claire and Kenzi would be too young to have had him, and unless Regina’s hiding any other children, Jack is the only possible option.

“You okay?” Whit asks.

“Just processing the news.”

“Are you going to let him move in?”

Whit and I have gone over this multiple times in quiet moments in the station. I’m sure he’s having the same thoughts I am.

“I’m not sure ‘let’ is the right word. Everyone else in this house wants to give him a chance—a Brannon is a Brannon.”

And I’m not one of them. Just married into the family line and about to have my second child in the bloodline.

“If it makes you feel any better, his only run-in with the law is his arrest for trespassing on your property. The guy doesn’t even have a speeding ticket to his name. I looked into his mother, and she was clean too. Just a few unpaid parking tickets.”

“That’s great.” My tone comes out even drier than I anticipated.

“You should probably let your family know the results. It’s going to be a lot to unpack.”

“Can you send me a picture of the paperwork?”

“Consider it done.”

We end the call. A minute later, the photo comes via text message. I zoom them in and study the results. Everything lines up with what Whit told me.

If only I could ignore this, but I can’t. As soon as I step out of the room, my wife and daughter are going to want to hear about the results.

That criminal is going to move into the house.

I need a plan. First of all, he’s going to have to stay far away from Ember. Nobody can convince me he wasn’t spying on her through that little gap in the wall. And there’s no getting around the fact that he broke into the house. Not even Jack can argue that point.

Maybe there’s a part of the house that’s accessible from the outside only, like an apartment where he could live, a way for him to keep from coming inside on his own. I can’t do anything about Jack or Carol letting him in, but I can make sure he can’t get inside by himself.

Where are the blueprints? In one of the offices in the second or third wing.

I fling open the door and nearly trip over Kenzi and Ember.

“Is it true?” Ember asks.

“Yes, but⁠—”

“He’s another Brannon?”

Is it my imagination, or does she look happy about the news?

“Where are you going?” Kenzi asks.

“I need to look over the blueprints.”

She gives me an incredulous expression. “The blueprints?”

“Yes. Excuse me.” I move past them and head down the hallway. “Don’t let that criminal in.”

“He isn’t a criminal,” Ember calls.

“We all saw him get arrested!” I can’t get to those old papers fast enough. Not that they’re entirely accurate. There isn’t one shred of evidence about any of the secret passages or rooms—they can only be found in person. Typical of the Brannons.

I really don’t know how any of this generation can be related to their ancestors. Most of them were terrible people. If I believed in hauntings, I’d believe this place was the most likely to have ghosts considering what the Brannons of the past did to outsiders. And to their own. The girl with my daughter’s name is proof of that.

Killed by her own brother. Her father would’ve done it if his son didn’t beat him to it… if the girl’s journal entries are accurate.

It isn’t until I reach the room with the old blueprints that I realize both Ember and Kenzi were on my tail the entire time.

“What are you doing, Dad?”

I go through the drawers until I find what I’m looking for then spread the papers out on a large desk. “Looking for a room for that vagrant to stay in, since I appear to be the only one who doesn’t feel safe with him living here.”

“You think he’s going to hurt us? Or steal something?”

“Of course. Look what he’s already done.”

Ember puts her hands on her hips. “He didn’t take anything or hurt anyone. All he needed was a place to stay.”

“He could’ve asked but didn’t. He chose the criminal route.”

She sighs. “You don’t even know him.”

That gives me pause. “And you do?”

Her mouth gapes.

Kenzi throws me a concerned glance.

I let go of the blueprints. “Ember, is there something you need to tell us?”

She looks away. “No.”

“What is it?” Kenzi demands.

Ember picks at a nail. “I’ve talked to him a little bit. He’s nice.”

My body turns to ice. “You’ve been talking to him?”

She looks at me and narrows her eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I told him to stay away, and he’s been talking to you.” It takes every ounce of my self-control to keep from raising my voice.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong! We’ve just talked. He’s been through a lot of the same stuff I have.”

“Only you don’t go around breaking into houses.”

Ember frowns. “Technically he didn’t, either. The secret entrance he used wasn’t locked. It opened right up for him.”

If I don’t completely lose it, I deserve an award. I take a deep breath, then another.

“Don’t you think he would have hurt me back then if he wanted to? He hasn’t so much as touched me. We’ve just talked about how hard life can be. He wants to know his dad as much as I wanted to find you. His mom is dead like mine, and now Jack is all he has.”

My daughter knows exactly where to hit me to make it hurt. The guilt I feel for missing out on so much of her life runs deep—even though I didn’t have a clue she existed. Claire and I lost touch after our encounter, and she had no way of reaching me to let me know. We didn’t know anything about each other besides our first names. By the time I found out about Ember, Claire was dead and I was already falling for Kenzi.

“That doesn’t excuse what he did.”

“Trying to find a place to live? After his mom died, he lost everything!”

“You sure seem to know a lot about him.”

“Like I said, we have a lot in common. It’s easy to talk with him. You should give him a chance.”

I flip through the papers in front of me. “The only thing I’m going to do is find a room for him to stay in where he has zero access to you.”

“You’re so frustrating!” Ember storms out of the room.

Kenzi frowns. “You really don’t want to give him a chance?”

I glance up at her. “You do?”

“He is my nephew.”

“The man is a complete stranger. We don’t know who raised him or what his values are, aside from breaking into a house that isn’t his and ignoring my direct orders to stay away until we found the results. He couldn’t even do that. He’s been talking to our daughter and convincing her he’s safe!”

“He hasn’t hurt her, threatened her, or even made her uncomfortable. It sounds like they’ve connected. Ember has a cousin to connect with now.”

“Not you, too.”

“Ryker obviously hasn’t gone about things the right way, but he seems like a good guy. I’d like to get to know him.”

Now I need to find a room detached from the rest of the house more than ever.

Everyone around me is refusing to see this situation for what it really is.

18

Ember

My voice is getting raw. If I keep calling for Ryker at this rate, I’m not going to be able to speak at all tomorrow. Not that anyone at school will notice unless a teacher calls on me.

I cup my hands around my mouth. “Ryker!”

Nearby bushes rustle.

I should be on edge, given how many large wild animals roam the forest, but I’m relieved. Ryker heard me.

He steps out of the cover of the trees. “Where’s the fire?”

“Don’t joke about that.”

“Sorry, I forgot that’s a sore subject.” He dusts leaves from his shirt. “Everything okay?”

“No.” My voice cracks, and tears threaten. I hate that I sometimes cry when I’m angry.

“What’s going on?” He rests a hand on my shoulder and gives me a sympathetic smile.

I draw in a deep breath. “Do you want the good news or bad news first?”

“I could use some good news.”

“You were right about being related to us.”

His expression lights up. “I knew it!”

“But…”

“There’s always a but.” He groans.

“I wish there wasn’t.”

“Lay it on me.”

“My dad thinks you’re a criminal.”

“Technically, I am. But if I can get one of you guys to drop the charges, I won’t be.”

I give him a double-take. “Really?”

“Yeah. That’s what the attorney said.”

“You can afford a lawyer?” Maybe there really is more to his story than he’s been leading on.

“A free one.”

Relief washes through me. “Oh, right. I probably can’t drop the charges. I’m just a kid.”

“You’re almost an adult.”

“Close, but no cigar.”

Ryker leans against a tree. “Let me guess, your dad doesn’t want me moving in?”

“No, but he’s the only one. He doesn’t get the final say. Jack’s your dad, right? It should be up to him.”

“I have a feeling your dad the cop has more say than him.”

“Yeah, but your dad is a Brannon by blood.”

“You think the blood card will work?” he asks.

“It should. You have as much right to be here as any of us.”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I should just go.”

“What?”

“I never meant to cause problems. You sound stressed, and I’m sure everyone else is too. It’s best if I leave and you all can forget you ever met me.”

His words knock the breath from my lungs. The only person I can talk to can’t leave. I have to think of something to say that’ll keep him here. “Let me talk to Jack and Carol. They’ll know what to do.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to change your dad’s mind.”

“You never know.”

He shakes his head. “I really should head out. You guys are all nice. I’m causing too many problems and don’t want to do that, don’t want to be that guy.”

“You should.”

“What? Are you saying you want me to cause problems for your family?”

“My dad has no right to get between you and Jack. Especially not since he should know exactly how Jack feels. I’m in his life—he shouldn’t stop you from being in your dad’s life.”

“Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe about it. Stick around until we get this sorted.”

“I’m going to try and figure something else out. I’ve caused enough trouble.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong. Jack’s your dad, and you’re as much a part of this family as anyone else. Technically, my dad shouldn’t even get a say in this.”

“Except he does, and he’s a cop. I’m going to try and get my life in order. Maybe then I’ll be good enough to join the family. Or it won’t matter because once I do, I won’t need anything.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. This is best for everyone.”

“No, it isn’t! Do you think it’s fair for Jack? He was locked away for longer than I’ve been alive and never had a chance to be a dad. Now he finds out he actually is one and you want to run. Don’t take this from him. You’ll crush him.”

He seems to consider it.

“You’ll stay?”

“I’ll return once I’m good enough.”

“But you already are.”

“You might be the only one who sees it that way.”

“No! My dad’s the only person who doesn’t trust you.”

Ryker rests a hand on my shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but this is for the best.”

“Are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“I am so sick of everyone telling me what’s best! You being here—that’s it. Period, end of discussion. You’re staying.”

He laughs.

“Why are you laughing at me?”

“Keep your spunk, kid.”

“Kid?” I balk.

“It’s not an insult.” He takes a step from me.

“You’re really going?”

“Sorry.”

“No you aren’t. We’re your family, and you should be here.”

“I’ll see you around.” He rushes away.

“Ryker!”

He doesn’t turn back to me. Doesn’t even slow.

“Stop!” I should run after him, but my legs feel like lead weights.

It isn’t until the chilly air gives me the shivers that I trudge toward the house. I can’t believe any of this is happening. Not only do I finally have a cousin—who’s now gone—but my parents won’t let me homeschool so I can be Luke’s girlfriend before he gets tired of waiting for me to graduate. Not that I can tell my parents any of that—they’d say that’s the dumbest reason to homeschool.

I wouldn’t have to think about it if Luke wasn’t a PE teacher at one of the schools in my district. Though I’m sure if my dad had his way, I wouldn’t date until I’m in menopause. Even that would be too soon for him.

When I reach the front of the house, Ryker is nowhere to be seen. I’m sure he’s long gone by now. All thanks to Dad, who really shouldn’t have a say in any of this—and he’s the one person who should have sympathy for Jack.

I reach for the knob but stop. Why should I go back in there? My parents will only see me, and then we’ll get into an argument. I can’t stay quiet about this. They’re being completely unfair to Ryker and Jack. Dad was perfectly happy to reunite with me, but Jack doesn’t deserve to get to know his own son? Not cool at all.

Huffing, I yank my hand away from the door then storm down the walkway. My mind races as I try to figure out what I should do next. Go visit Luke and let him know I’m going to homeschool and we can finally spend time together like we both want? At least that would be good news. I’ve been waiting forever for this day.

The only problem is that it’s a pretty long walk, and it’s already dark outside. Not every neighborhood is as safe as this one. I’d have to pass through at least one sketchy area to reach him, and I don’t even have my phone on me.

Sighing, I give up. After I get all the homeschool stuff sorted, I need to finally sign up for driving lessons. I’ve been putting that off, but it’s time to do whatever I can to become independent. That much is clear.

I trudge back to the house. Inside, everything is quiet and most of the lights are dim.

Good. I can avoid my parents for the rest of the night.

Rustling noises sound down the hall toward Grandpa’s old office. I guess I should start thinking of it as Grandma’s room now. He’s been gone for ages, and now the only thing that room is used for is her bed.

More sounds come from over there.

My irritation dissipates into curiosity, and I tiptoe down the hall using only nightlights to see my way. As I near the room, I hold my breath and listen.

Now everything is quiet. Because of course it is. That’s the way things work in this house.

I push on the cracked door to the office-bedroom.

Creak!

That couldn’t have been louder if I’d tried.

I wait.

Swoosh.

Whatever that was, it came from inside.

Could it have been Grandma? Is Kenzi right about her faking?

I freeze for a moment. If Grandma really is pretending, then prison must be horrible. She has to have a good reason to pull off a stunt like this. I don’t want to be the one to discover her ruse and ruin it.

On the other hand, she did try to burn this mansion down once before.

I need to see what’s going on in that room.

Hopefully I’m ready for whatever I find. No time to wait. I push open the door and step into the room. It’s even darker in here, but a little light is coming in through the curtain which is parted.

Grandma is lying on her bed, breathing lightly. Not heavily, not like she just leaped into bed and pulled up the covers to hide the fact that she was just wandering around.

I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on her. On top of everything else I have going on. Even though I’m mad at my parents, we’ve all been through more than enough. I won’t let my grandma ruin more than she already has.

If she’s secretly plotting to burn down the Brannon house again, I’ll stop her personally. That’s one more reason I need to start homeschooling.

It’s the only way I’ll be able to watch her at all hours of the day.

19

Kenzi

I flip over, again, and pull the covers up over my head, leaving just enough room to breathe. But covering my eyes isn’t going to help me get back to sleep. The room is already practically pitch black, with only a faint light coming from the hallway.

My lack of sleep has nothing to do with the room. Or the fact that I’ve gotten up to use the bathroom no less than five times. It’s my mind that won’t let me get the rest I need.

Given my mother’s return, the bones in the walls, the mysterious new Brannon, and now Ember wanting to homeschool, it’s no wonder I’m tossing and turning at—I check my phone again—three in the morning. I’ve been awake for the last hour and a half. The baby is moving around, too. Apparently I have another night owl on my hands.

Maybe what I need is to walk around and remind my brain that I’m actually tired. It’s better than staying in bed, which clearly isn’t working.

I creep into the hall. Everything is blissfully quiet. Even the light from Ember’s room is out.

The entire house is sleeping except me and the baby.

I grip the railing on the spiral staircase then pad down the steps slowly. The last thing I need is to take a tumble.

In the kitchen, I warm some milk. That’s supposed to help people sleep, right? I lean against the counter and glance outside as I sip from the mug. The stars shine brightly, and all of the houses are dark. I might be the only person in the neighborhood who’s up at this hour.

I mull over everything, my mind quickly darting from one topic to the next. Sadly, the least worrisome thing going on is finding hand bones in the wall of a secret room. It’s concerning enough, but not compared to everything else—unless my mother is actually involved with them. If that’s the case, then they’re as concerning and as currently relevant as everything else.

Pain throbs behind my temples. This is all too much. Why did I let myself think that once we renovated the house, things would settle into a nice normalcy?

This house would never allow that. It doesn’t know peace.

I shake away those thoughts. The house doesn’t have a mind, a motivation. It’s wood, nails, and paint. Even though this place has a wild history, it doesn’t actually impact anything currently. Only the people living here do—and that’s why the decision to let Ryker move in or not is such a huge dilemma.

Of course Graham and I want Jack to have a chance to get to know his son. It would be hypocritical of us not to feel that way, given Graham and Ember’s past, but that doesn’t mean we want him living in our house after what he pulled.

Not unless we could guarantee everyone’s safety.

Clink.

I whip around. Don’t see anything.

Clink, clink.

What is that? It almost sounds like coins falling on the floor.

Jack or Carol must be unable to sleep too. That’s the only explanation.

Except for my mother. If she’s not actually paralyzed, then this would be the only time she could get up and move around. It would also give her plenty of opportunity to be tired enough to sleep during the day.

Shuffle.

Someone is in the hallway.

My blood turns to ice. I nearly drop the now-empty mug. Shaking, I set it in the sink, careful not to let it bump against anything. Have to stay quiet.

Shuffle, shuffle.

I take a deep breath and stand tall. Whoever it is, I can handle them. If it’s Ryker sneaking back in, I’ll attack him. It would be obvious self-defense. He’s the intruder. If it’s my mother, people will understand that all the more. A woman supposed to be locked away for life who faked her own injuries. Anyone would understand my side of the story.

Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I grab a knife from the butcher’s block. The blade is more than six inches long. I really hope I don’t have to use it other than as a threat.

I rub my belly, promise to keep my baby safe at all costs, and take a step toward the hallway. Wait, listen. Another step. Then another.

My pulse thrums in my ears, and I can’t hear anything else. There could be more shuffling noises, and I wouldn’t know.

Need to calm down. I take more deep breaths.

Doesn’t help. Have to keep going. If either Regina or Ryker are wandering around, I need to find out. Put a stop to them.

I can do this. There’s no other choice. I hurry toward the hallway, eyes on the door.

My foot hits the leg of a chair someone didn’t push in.

Crash!

Now I’ve let anyone within hearing know I’m up. Awesome.

Pain radiates from my big toe. I ignore it, pressing forward. Need to see who’s shuffling around in the hallway.

Empty.

Why wasn’t I more careful? Maybe this is for the best. I really don’t want to use this knife for anything other than cooking.

Even so, I hold it close and scan the corridor.

I clearly scared off whoever was there. If it was Ryker, hopefully he’ll leave and never return. If it’s my mother, I can only wish for the same result. With both of them out of our lives, we can all sleep peacefully again. Not that I was sleeping all that well before Regina’s return, but it’s definitely been a whole lot worse since her arrival. No question.

“Anyone there?” The words escape my mouth before I register them. I don’t know why I just did that—when someone does that in a movie, I always cringe. Now I’m that person.

Nobody answers, so it isn’t like I’ve encouraged them to show up.

I turn my head toward the spiral staircase. “Hello? Are you over here?”

Then I go the other way toward where my mother should be sleeping. With any luck, if someone is around here, now they think I’m going in the other direction.

My nerves have moved to my stomach, which is now churning acid, so I can hear once again. I can also feel the baby moving around like normal for this time of night, so my stress doesn’t seem to be affecting him or her.

Luckily my socked feet move silently down the hallway, and there isn’t anything for me to bang into out here. The dim nightlights provide just enough illumination for me to see anything that would be in my way.

At my father’s old office, I look down the hall to where it turns. Nobody’s there, but that doesn’t mean anything. The corridor has more than a dozen doors, all of which are unlocked and easily accessible.

I’m not going to search all of those—though doing so would easily help me fall asleep. No, my sights are set on only one door. The one in front of me.

With a swift motion, I push it open. Step inside. It’s darker in here, but I can still see the bed.

A figure lies there unmoving. The covers are smoothed flat, like someone pressed them down around my mother and she hasn’t moved since then. Just like you’d expect from a paralyzed person.

My heart sinks with disappointment. Maybe she really is held captive by her own body, unable to move. The doctors could be right.

Though it’s going to take more than that to prove her condition to me. I know this woman and what she’s capable of. After having spent decades in a miserable marriage, she has the patience and endurance of an athlete training for the Olympics.

I walk around the bed slowly, studying her from every angle. She’s breathing softly, but I’m not convinced she’s actually sleeping. I used to fake sleeping as a kid, so I know how easy it is—not that I’ve ever gone so far as to pretend to be immobile.

My mother takes everything to new heights.

Would even she go this far?

I intend to find out.

20

Kenzi

After watching my mother sleep—or pretend to sleep—for nearly twenty minutes, I gave up and went back up to my room where Graham was still out like a light. If only I could sleep that soundly.

I climb into bed next to him, my toe still throbbing from where the kitchen chair leg attacked it earlier. Clearly I need to be more careful in the future when trying to find out who’s walking around the house. And I do need to find a way to get answers, especially if it could be Ryker. But even if it’s just my mother, I need proof of her wanderings. Then we can send her back to prison where she belongs.

We have a few cameras around the house, all on the outside. Perhaps we need to invest in some inside. Near Regina’s bed in particular. Aimed right at her. Something that I can easily hide from prying eyes. That’s a good idea. I need to look into that in the morning.

I must’ve been awake long enough because my eyelids are finally growing heavy. Sleep is about to fall upon me at last. I pull the covers up, eager for it to take over.

Shuffle, shuffle.

You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no way someone is outside this room walking around. I’m imagining it. It’s some kind of audible echo. That’s the only explanation.

Shuffle.

I nudge Graham. “Are you awake?”

He lets out a little snore.

“Graham!”

My husband doesn’t even budge.

Maybe what we really need is a dog. That would be great protection when my policeman husband could clearly sleep through a hurricane siren.

Shuffle, shuffle.

I shove him again, but he doesn’t respond.

Clearly this is on me. It’s too bad I returned the knife to the kitchen. I look around the room for anything I can use as a weapon. The only thing that stands out is a heavy duty flashlight.

That’ll do.

I slide out of bed, grab it, then hurry to the door.

Shuffle, shuffle.

The footsteps are coming from the opposite direction of the staircase. They’re headed toward a less used part of the mansion.

I hold the flashlight like a baseball bat as I step into the hallway.

The empty hallway.

“Who’s there?” I call.

“Kenzi?”

Graham. Now he’s awake.

“What’s going on?” His voice is groggy.

“Someone’s in the hall.”

“Probably Ember,” he mumbles.

“Nothing would make me happier.” Except maybe sending my mother back to her cell. “I’m going to check it out.”

The blankets rustle as he makes his way out of bed. “Let me. You go back to bed.”

“If anyone should sleep, it’s you. You have work in the morning.”

He takes the flashlight from me. “You’re pregnant. Get some rest. I’ll take care of this.”

I start to protest, but he hurries past me toward our daughter’s room.

“The noises were from the other way.”

Graham spins around and speeds by me, turning on the light. So much for keeping a low profile. But he probably grabbed his gun while getting out of bed. It takes him all of five seconds to unlock it and get it ready for action. He could probably do the whole thing in his sleep.

Instead of going back to bed, I follow him. When I reach the end of the hall, I look right and left. He could’ve gone either way, and I don’t see his light or hear him, so I have no idea.

I should probably turn around and go back to bed, like he suggested, but instead I turn right and head down the hall. There are more places to hide in this part of the house, so if someone is walking around, they likely went that way.

There are also no nightlights down here. There are a few windows, and none have curtains because there’s no point. Hardly anyone comes this way, and the only thing outside are trees. No neighbors, no street view.

I move along as best I can, speeding up at each window where I can see a little better with the help of the moonlight—not that it helps much.

Then I stumble over something. In a hallway we rarely go into.

I reach for the nearest wall to steady myself. Kneel down to feel what stopped me.

Hair.

My heart skips a beat.

A body?

Graham!

I frantically feel around.

Relief washes through me. Not a person.

A doll.

What’s a doll doing in the middle of an abandoned hall? After I heard shuffling?

It certainly wasn’t walking around. That, obviously, would be ridiculous. Not to mention the kind of thing that Ember would believe. Not me.

I pick it up and take it to the nearest window. It’s the same one I found broken into three pieces not long ago. At least it’s still fixed. But it shouldn’t be up here.

It should be in the basement where I left it. I locked it in a closet down there.

Literally nobody goes down there.

I nearly drop the doll at the thought. Goose bumps prickle my skin, and a cold chill runs through me.

It might be time to get rid of this thing. Ember recently told me about a museum that takes in supposedly haunted dolls.

This thing fits the bill, and given the history of the house, I’m sure the museum would be thrilled to acquire it. I’d be even happier to get it out of here. But that’s a plan for another day.

For now, I need to put it somewhere and find Graham. For all I know, he’s already found whoever was wandering around outside our room.

Probably Ember. That would be my luck. It would also be the most logical explanation. Not only does a teenager roaming the halls make a lot more sense than a paralyzed elderly woman, but Ember also tends to stay up and ruminate when she’s upset—and she’s certainly mad at us now.

That has to be what’s going on. Heat creeps into my cheeks for thinking it could’ve been my mother.

Wishful thinking. More than anything, I want an excuse to give her the boot before my baby’s born. I’d rather invite the Lock Ness Monster into our home than have her here.

I should talk with Graham some more about letting Ember homeschool. I’m already here most of the day, so if she needed anything I’d be available. Plus, she would be a big help once the baby arrives.

It’s a good plan, actually. Mutually beneficial. Now to convince Graham to get on board. He’s so focused on Ryker he can’t think about anything else. That’s how is mind works—on one thing at a time.

Something I should consider. I open the nearest door and turn on the lights.

My eyes close at the sudden brightness, but they adjust quickly. I look around for a place to put the doll for now. A wooden chest at the end of the bed looks like the perfect solution, as long as it has room.

I flip it open and find it’s only about half full with folded quilts.

Perfect. I drop the doll on top of the blankets, close the lid, then head for the door.

Something catches my attention. On the bedside table underneath a gorgeous stained-glass lamp sits a journal.

Not just any journal. It has my mother’s name inscribed in gold on the black cover.

This wasn’t here before. I’ve been in here and wouldn’t have missed this gem. Not only that, but we keep all old family heirlooms like that in a few specific rooms—and this isn’t one of them.

I stare at the book, waiting for it to jump up and bite me. But obviously it doesn’t.

Holding my breath, I reach for it. The smooth material feels nice, as do the pages inside when I open them. I recognize Regina’s writing immediately. It’s more youthful than I’m used to seeing it, but the words were clearly penned by her.

Could there be a clue in here as to her current state? I scan a few pages until one word jumps out at me.

Hands.

I read the page and only get through a few lines before it mentions the wall in the secret room.

My mother knows about the hands. She may even have been involved in placing them there.

This is even bigger than I imagined.

21

Ember

The school bus drives down the street without me. And given how many adults live in this house, I’m surprised none of them are racing up the stairs to find out why I’m not on the bus.

Do none of them realize I’m still in my room? In my pajamas, no less. I refuse to go to school today. Gandhi did his hunger strikes, and I’m going to do a school strike. It isn’t like I have any tests or anything important today. I’ll be sure to show up for my finals so I can officially be done with the semester.

Then I’ll start homeschooling no matter what anyone says. It might be tricky without my parents being on board, but I’ll figure out something. There’s always a way when you want something bad enough.

And I’m determined to be able to spend time with the guy I love and who feels the same way about me. I’m done letting something as stupid as school get in the way of that. If nothing else, maybe I can use homeschooling to graduate early, too. But for starters, just changing my status from a student in the district where he teaches should be enough. If I have to take on a triple load and continue through the summer to graduate early, then I’ll do that.

I’ll do anything.

But first I need to find out what’s going on with my family. I head over to check my parents’ room. Kenzi is sound asleep. That explains her not forcing me out the door. But what about Dad, Jack, and Carol?

I hurry downstairs. The kitchen is empty, and my dad’s shoes are gone from the rack by the front door. Maybe he went into work early. Sometimes they call him in if something big is going on.

This is my lucky day. I traipse down to my grandma’s empty bed. Her wheelchair is gone, and the door to Jack and Carol’s room is wide open. They must’ve taken her somewhere. Either for a walk around the neighborhood or to an appointment.

I definitely picked the right day to skip! Nobody notices or cares. Well, I’m sure they care. If anyone knew where I was, any of them would drive me straight to school. But they aren’t here, and I’m still not dressed.

This is perfect. I grab a quick bite to eat before heading back upstairs. Everything remains quiet. Once in my room, I lock the door and get on my laptop. I again look up what it takes to homeschool but find nothing new. It’s not hard as long as my parents unenroll me and take responsibility for my education.

I check a few more sites until I’m sure I understand it fully, then I pull out my textbooks and study for my upcoming finals.

Could I be any bigger of a nerd? Anyone else would make the most of a skip day by sleeping in or raiding the alcohol. I’d rather be responsible and prove to everyone that I can handle homeschooling. Hopefully once they see how determined I am, they’ll let me do this.

Luke, we’re closer to being able to be boyfriend and girlfriend than you know.

My heart swells at the thought. I’ve been so discouraged about our prospects, but this is the best news I’ve had in a long time.

Apparently the school doesn’t let parents know about absences right away because nobody bothers me for hours. I’d expect Dad to call or Kenzi to bust down my door. But they don’t.

My friends don’t even seem to notice that I’m gone, either, as nobody has sent me any texts. Gretchen’s in my second period class, so she should’ve noticed. So much for being besties all those years.

At least I know I won’t be missed when I homeschool. That’s good news. The only one who matters anymore is Luke. I’m bursting to tell him my plan, but the last thing I want is to hear him say it won’t work.

It’ll work. I’ll find a way. I’m done playing by society’s stupid rules. It isn’t like Luke and I are scandalously apart in age. We’re close enough that nobody would bat an eye at us being together if he was a student. Our only problem is that he’s a teacher in my school district. He isn’t even my teacher! We’re not even at the same school.

Life is so totally unfair sometimes.

I glance outside. Carol’s car is in the driveway now. She and Jack must be back with my grandma.

What surprises me is that Kenzi hasn’t realized I’m in my room. She’s observant and typically would have noticed my shoes by the door. I also don’t tend to close my door when I’m gone.

Worry prickles at me. Is she okay? Maybe I should check on her.

I set aside my books and open my door.

She stands outside the door, her hands on her hips. Apparently she did notice I’m still home.

“Oh, you’re up. I was just coming to check on you. Did you get enough rest?”

“Why aren’t you at school?” She’s getting straight to the point.

“The bus left without me.”

“And?”

“And it’s too far to walk.”

“Ember, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m studying for my finals. See?” I step aside so she can look at my bed, covered in textbooks, scattered papers, and notebooks.

“You’re skipping school.”

“Technically.”

“No ‘technically’ about it. Why?”

“Because I hate it there!” Hot, angry tears threaten. “I’m serious about homeschooling. You and Dad would know what I’m talking about if you’d listen to me at all. You’re so worried about Ryker that you don’t even pay attention to me anymore.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“Isn’t it?” I blink quickly, not wanting the stupid tears to win. “You’re so wrapped up with Grandma being here, and Dad’s obsessed with Jack’s son. It isn’t fair that he gets a chance to know me, but he’s denying Jack the same opportunity.”

“You aren’t a criminal.”

“Is Ryker though? Really? He didn’t break in, he didn’t steal anything. All he did was enter through a door that was there for the taking—a door he knew about because Grandma told his mom about it.”

“There were other ways he could’ve gone about it. Talking to us, for instance.”

“He’s our relative—your nephew. No different from me.”

“No different?” Kenzi’s brows draw together. “You were raised by my sister. Your childhood was spent here in this house. You’re still a minor. Want me to go on?”

“You had no more relationship with me when you adopted me than Jack has with Ryker.”

“Because I lived in California.”

“We didn’t have a relationship before you moved there!”

Her mouth forms a straight line, and we stare each other down before she speaks. “Why are you so obsessed with Ryker?”

“Because he deserves a chance, just like I did. Where would I be if you and Dad hadn’t stepped in? My stepdad kicked me to the curb as soon as Mom died. What do you think would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t moved up here to take care of me and this house?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“See? I have a point.”

“Did you stay home to argue with me about Ryker? Even if you do manage to change my mind, your dad’s is made up.”

I fold my arms. “You don’t have any sway with him?”

Kenzi relaxes her stance. “Why don’t you want to be at school with your friends?”

“What friends?”

She tilts her head. “Gretchen, Asana, and Milani for starters.”

“Have you seen them around here lately?”

Her mouth opens, then closes. She studies me for a moment. “Did you have a falling out with them?”

“Nothing so dramatic. They’re just too busy for me now. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“Why are they too busy for you?”

“Because they all have boyfriends and I don’t. Simple high school math.”

“That doesn’t sound like them.”

“People change, friend groups shift. It’s part of life, and I want to leave public school so I can focus on my academics here at home. I’m honestly surprised you aren’t jumping at this. With me here, that’s one extra person who can keep an eye on Grandma.”

“The woman is paralyzed.”

It’s my turn to study her. “Do you really believe that?”

Her silence answers my question.

“I didn’t think so.”

“You don’t either?”

“It seems pretty convenient, if you ask me. Besides, I’ve been hearing footsteps at night.”

Kenzi’s eyes widen. “You’ve heard those too?”

“Practically every night.”

Her face pales. “It hasn’t been you?”

“No.”

She leans against the nearest wall. “Did you hear steps last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get up to check it out?”

“No, I was too tired.”

“You didn’t walk around at all?” Her voice squeaks, and her face is still ashen.

“It’s like I said, I stayed in bed. Who am I to stop her if she wants to walk around? She lives here too.”

Kenzi closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

At least I’m getting somewhere with her now.

She opens her eyes and holds my gaze. “You think she could be faking?”

“Someone is walking around at night. If it isn’t you or anyone else, it has to be her.”

“Well, I have gotten up plenty of times—but I’ve always heard footsteps. Unless it’s you and me hearing and going after each other.”

“You and Dad are usually sleeping when I get up to check things out.”

“Usually?”

“I don’t always look.”

Kenzi motions for me to step inside the room, and I do. She follows me then closes the door. “I think we should work together to try and catch her.”

I love the idea but keep any excitement from showing on my face. “What about school? I could sleep in and have a flexible schedule if I was homeschooling, but I can’t stay up late if I have to get up and catch the bus.”

She looks like she’s thinking it over. “Let me talk with your dad.”

I can hardly believe my ears. “You’re going to consider letting me switch to homeschooling?”

“You’ve made some compelling arguments.”

Now I can’t keep the grin off my face. Maybe things are actually starting to turn around.

22

Kenzi

Graham holds open my car door and gives me a kiss once I’m seated. After saying goodbye, I start the car then head toward home. We just had a quick lunch together after I dropped Ember off at school, telling them we had a family emergency. It isn’t too far from the truth.

As I promised her, I worked to sell Graham on the idea of homeschooling. It goes without saying that I didn’t bring Ryker or my mother into the conversation.

He isn’t fully convinced, but he’s warming up to the idea of Ember staying home to get her education. I did some quick online research before lunch and was able to present some strong points that I could tell sparked his interest. He liked the ideas of her independent learning and the personalized approach to meet her specific needs.

Now to let the thoughts marinate for the rest of the day, then we can discuss it again tonight with Ember. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see him moving in her direction.

Meanwhile, that gives me the afternoon to think about our plan to catch my mother in action. While I’m doing that, I can read through the diary I found. By the time Graham and I made it to bed last night—with neither of us finding the person I heard shuffling around—I was barely able to keep my eyes open, much less try to read my mother’s secrets.

This morning was also a bust in that regard because I barely got out of bed before realizing Ember hadn’t left the house. Not with her shoes and coat by the front door. She’s a creature of habit and always wears the same ones every day.

At least things seem to be moving in the right direction, and the sooner I can ship Regina back to prison, the better. It has to be her walking around at night. What I need is some cameras that can work in the dark. They’ll cost more, but at this point I don’t care.

The price of freedom is invaluable.

As soon as I step inside the house, voices sound. Two male voices. One is Jack and the other is familiar.

Ryker.

He’s inside the house.

I freeze in place, not sure what to do. Graham would have a fit if he knew Ryker was in here. On the other hand, he is Jack’s only child. What right do I have to interfere with their relationship? It isn’t like the guy is moving in. He’s just visiting his dad. That’s normal.

Despite how much I want to race upstairs and crack open my mother’s journal, I follow the voices to the kitchen. Jack and Ryker are laughing at the table over cheese, crackers, and lemonade. My emergency snack food for when my ravenous cravings hit.

My brother glances over at me and gives me a wide smile. “Kenzi, look who came to visit.”

Ryker also grins, but I can see in his eyes that he expects me to kick him out.

I’ll show him who’s the bigger person.

“Nice to see you again.” I wash my hands then join them. “How are you today?”

He glances back and forth between Jack and me. “You don’t mind that I’m here?”

“You’re potential family.”

“Potential?” He scratches his head. “The results are in. Congratulations—it’s a boy.”

I turn to Jack. “You haven’t invited him to move in, have you?”

“I’m right here.”

My brother scrunches his face. “It hasn’t come up yet, but I don’t see how you and Graham get the final say. He’s my child, and I never got a chance to know him until now. You can’t take that from me, Kenzi.”

“I would never want to, but moving in is something we all would need to be on board with. You wouldn’t want someone moving in without anyone taking your opinion into consideration.”

“He’s my son.”

Ryker pops a cheese and cracker sandwich into his mouth. He seems to be enjoying this.

“Why don’t we discuss this when Graham gets home?”

Jack sits up straighter. “He’s my son—that’s something that should be obvious even without the fancy test. Look at him. He has clear Brannon features.”

He also reminds me of my mother in certain ways, but I keep that thought to myself.

I grab some cheese and crackers. “I’m not trying to argue that point.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Jack’s eyes narrow.

“I’m not saying there is one. Only that we should all be on board with a major decision like someone moving in—someone who was arrested for squatting in our walls.”

Ryker clears his throat. “Was it really squatting?”

“Yes! You broke in.”

“Did I? This is my dad’s house. I’m family.”

“Family or not, you were a stranger to us, since you didn’t bother to introduce yourself.”

“You know me now.”

I turn to my brother, who has the same I-told-you-so expression as his son. Then I rise and turn to my nephew who’s barely younger than me. “Just don’t steal anything. We’ll talk when Detective Felton gets home.”

“Okay.” He reaches for another piece of cheese. “I didn’t do anything wrong when I was staying here the first time and don’t have any intentions of starting now. You’re my flesh and blood. We’re on the same team.”

My brother gives me a look telling me he isn’t going to back down on this issue.

Why do I keep ending up at odds with the people in my family? Graham, Ember, and now Jack. There’s no way to keep everyone happy. Maybe it’s futile to even try. I doubt Ryker is any more dangerous than my mother. At least he hasn’t tried to burn down the house. It’s true that he could’ve stolen from us or hurt someone if he’d wanted to when he was living in the walls since we didn’t know he was there. Instead, he kept to himself and didn’t bother anyone, other than making some noises we couldn’t explain at the time.

Kind of like the nightly shuffling noises now—except there’s a very rational explanation for those.

Instead of heading upstairs to my room, I go to my father’s office and check on Regina. The woman is in exactly the same position as when I last saw her. If I didn’t know she’d been out in her wheelchair, I’d think she hadn’t budged since the middle of the night.

She knows how to play the long game, that’s for sure.

Carol steps out from her apartment, and her eyes widen. “I didn’t expect to see you in here.”

“I wanted to see what she’s doing.”

“Not much of anything.”

“So it would appear.”

“I don’t suppose you have a little time to stay and keep an eye on her?”

“Is she going to do a trick?”

Carol tries to cover a smile. “There are a few errands I need to run, and I don’t want to interrupt Jack’s time with his son. You won’t need to watch her the whole time—just check in and make sure she’s breathing okay.”

“Sure. I’ll watch her.”

“Thanks so much.” Carol’s expression brightens. “That really helps.”

“You know, you could just run errands when you need to. It isn’t like she’s going to get up and start causing trouble.” I glance down at Regina. “Right, Mother?”

She doesn’t so much as twitch.

“I just feel better leaving the house if I know someone is going to check in on her.” Carol pops back into her apartment then returns with her purse. “I shouldn’t be much more than an hour.”

“Sounds good.” I pull up a chair. “We have a lot to talk about, anyway.”

Carol gives me a quizzical glance. “Okay. Have fun.”

“Oh, I intend to.” I lean back and wait for my sister-in-law to leave. Then I turn to my mother. I have plenty to say to her, and she’ll have to be the world’s best actress to keep from responding.

This should be interesting.

23

Ember

Voices sound from the kitchen when I step inside the house. It sounds like Jack and Ryker. Do Dad and Kenzi know he’s here? Not that it really matters. Jack lives here and can invite his son in whenever he wants. My parents don’t get to make all the rules. And for Ryker’s sake, I’m glad.

I trudge up the spiral staircase, barely keeping my backpack on my shoulders. Going to school was a total waste. With the semester wrapping up, the teachers aren’t actually teaching anything and most of the kids are acting up in class. My time would’ve been much better spent at home studying. Instead, I get to start doing that now.

Plus, as usual, I didn’t spend any time with my friends. I shove Gretchen and the others from my mind and throw my bag onto my bed. The thought of studying after having to deal with school makes every bone in my body ache.

I cannot wait to start homeschooling. The drama of public school is more than I can bear. It was fun for a while, but what’s the point when I can’t even see the one person I want to spend all my time with?

My heart soars at the thought of Luke and his adorably sweet crooked smile.

It’s all I can do to keep from sending him a text. I don’t want to promise anything before it’s set in stone—and my dad still isn’t on board with homeschooling yet.

I peek into my parents’ room on the off chance either of them is in there. Dad’s car isn’t out front, so I know he isn’t. But I can’t help at least looking. Maybe it’s in the shop.

The room is empty. Kenzi’s car is in the driveway, but she must be somewhere else.

I start to turn away, but something inside catches my eye. A journal—and it looks like an old fashioned one.

Did my parents find a new Brannon family heirloom? One teeming with secrets? My curiosity gets the better of me. I step inside. Look around.

Nobody’s here, but someone could jump out at any moment.

It’s a risk I’m willing to take. If the diary belongs to either Kenzi or Dad, I’ll put it away. But nobody could fault me for being curious about our family’s past. We always share these types of things with each other.

Yet no one told me about this one.

As I get closer to the find, I notice my grandma’s name on the front of it. This is getting juicier by the minute. The little book is on Kenzi’s nightstand, so she must’ve found it.

She must want me to see it, otherwise she wouldn’t have left it out in the open like it is.

I take advantage of the invitation and pick up the journal. Its cover is buttery soft, and the pages nice and thick like the expensive stationery my mom used to use in her lawyer practice.

Grandma’s writing is both fancy and youthful, which makes it easy to picture her around my age, traipsing about the house. She was so young when she and Grandpa married, she spent most of her life in this mansion. The pictures of her before she had kids make her seem light and carefree—but they take a sharp turn after that.

Maybe the words on these pages explain what caused that massive change.

Footsteps and conversation sound on the stairs.

I drop the diary back onto the nightstand then race out of the room.

Kenzi and Carol.

My stomach drops to the floor.

They don’t see me. I dart down the hallway in the opposite direction and don’t stop until I round the corner. Now I’m at the opposite end of the corridor as my room. I’m either going to have to wait for them to leave, or I’ll need to take the long way and circle back.

That’ll take forever. At least fifteen minutes, maybe more. It isn’t like I’ve timed how long it takes to get around this place, though maybe I should now that I think about it.

My aunts continue chatting as they walk toward the bedroom, but they stop in front of the movie room. Kenzi leans against a wall, gesturing while talking. Carol looks intrigued.

They’re not going anywhere. I’m going to have to go around to get back to my room and start studying.

Why did I have to sneak into my parents’ room in the first place? I should’ve focused on my finals because if I want to show them I’m serious, I have to keep up my grades.

Not that it matters. I’m here now, and I have to go around. Grandma’s secrets will have to wait.

I hurry down the hall, not wanting to waste any more time than I already have. About halfway there, I come to some old servant stairs. They lead to a way outside, and I’d rather walk around the perimeter of the house than have to go through the corridors and then explain to my aunts why I was wandering about. At least if I come in from outside, that makes sense. They won’t have so many questions.

When I get outside, I realize I’m not far from the pool area with the hand bone walls.

The police tape is gone. I can go in without getting into trouble—not that it stopped me before. If I can’t get answers from the journal yet, maybe something in there will jump out at me. Something everyone else missed.

Unlikely, but you never know. Dad always says I see things other people miss. Probably because I’m more open minded. I know ghosts are a possibility, but Dad and Kenzi won’t even consider the notion. Though to be fair, almost everything I thought was a ghost ended up being explained as a living person. Although the doll moving around now is a mystery.

I glance at my surroundings. Not seeing anyone, I make my way inside the room. It’s just as smelly and stuffy as before, only with holes where the hands apparently were. Not that I had the chance to see them myself. It isn’t like they would’ve scarred me for life. I don’t know why my parents think I’m so fragile, especially after everything I’ve lived through and seen with my own eyes.

Time to focus. I breathe through my mouth and shine my phone’s light around, paying special attention to the walls. But after circling the room several times, nothing stands out. It isn’t like the room is going to tell me anything that happened here.

Squeak! Squeal!

My breath hitches as I turn toward the door.

I’m caught.

Not that I’m doing anything wrong. The police tape is gone, after all.

Ryker steps inside.

My knees turn to rubber. It’s only him.

“Hey,” he says so nonchalantly, like he didn’t just scare me half to death.

“Hi.” I try to stand naturally as if my legs still don’t want to give out.

“What are you up to?” He shines a light of his own around.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“You could.” He waits a beat. “So, are you?”

“No.”

“Have you found anything interesting.” He looks in the pool. “That’s gross.”

“What, you don't want to go for a swim?”

He laughs so loud it startles me. It doesn’t help that the sound echoes around the room. “How long do you think it’s been since this place was used? For its intended purpose, I mean.”

“No idea. It seems like maybe turn of the century? Isn’t that when the mob was a big deal?”

“You jump to the mob?”

I wave my hand around the holes in the wall. “Do you know of anyone else who would chop off people’s hands and put them in a wall for everyone to see?”

“There are probably others.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t think so?” He arches an eyebrow.

“It’s possible, but given how old this place is and all its other secrets, the mob seems the most likely.”

“What other secrets?”

I sit on an old chair, half expecting it to give out. Thankfully, it doesn’t. “The secret tunnels that lead to a cave with a bunch of moonshine.”

Ryker tilts his head. “There are tunnels leading to moonshine?”

“The tunnels caved in and have been filled.”

“So no moonshine?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think?” He sounds incredulous.

“Does it matter?”

“I want to try some legit moonshine from the thirties. That would be so cool. Do you know where it would be?”

“If it’s still around, I’m sure my parents moved it from its original location.”

“But do you remember where that was? Or where they might’ve moved it?”

I sigh. “Can we focus? We’re dealing with something much bigger than illegal booze. People got their hands chopped off in this place. Some might’ve even gotten killed—drowned in this very pool you don’t want to go near.”

“I think secret tunnels and ninety year old moonshine is far cooler.”

“Seriously?”

“Obviously.”

I gesture toward the door. “Go and look for it. I’m focused on the current mystery, with or without you.”

Ryker glances toward the exit then back to me before slumping his shoulders. “Fine, the other stuff can wait. Let’s focus on this current issue, partner.”

“Partner?”

“We’re cousins, right? We should be on the same team. Let’s get to the bottom of this. Then you promise to show me where the moonshine was found?”

That sounds like a deal I can’t turn down.

We shake on it.

24

Kenzi

If my mother is faking her condition, she deserves an Oscar for her performance. I just called her out on everything she ever did to me, plus a bunch of other stuff. I didn’t hold back.

The woman didn’t even flinch. Not even an oddly timed blink.

I’m still not convinced. If anyone can hold out and play the long game, it’s her. I have a feeling she could keep up with this ruse for several years if necessary. It all depends on what her end game is.

And that’s what worries me. Her goal could be anything. Maybe she wants to finish what she started and burn down this mansion. Perhaps it has something to do with Jack. She could be plotting a way to lock him back up in the apartment—though I don’t know what she’d gain from that. At least her motivation with respect to arson is clear. If she burns this house to the ground, she would—in her twisted way—be exacting revenge on the men who harmed her so badly.

I almost have sympathy for her given what my dad and uncle put her through. I’m sure it wasn’t as easy to walk away from a bad relationship in her day versus now. My mother is old enough to be my grandmother, so things were vastly different when she was my age.

It’s easy for me to say I’d walk away from a destructive marriage and never look back, but I can’t judge anyone my age, much less someone who grew up in a very different time. She couldn’t even have opened a bank account or gotten a credit card on her own without a man cosigning.

Yet at the same time, I definitely blame her for her own actions toward her children. What she did to Jack and me was unforgivable. I’m not sure I’ll ever fully get over my forced stay in that mental institution. If she could speak, she’d still claim it was for my own good. That’s always been her story.

I can’t take another moment with her, and while Carol hasn’t returned, I’m going to leave my mother in her spot.

Once in the hall, I stop. Now would be the ideal time to see if she gets out of bed. She thinks I’m frustrated with her—because I am—and fully expects me to go to my room or somewhere else far from her. And she would be right, but that’s not what I’m going to do. Not this time.

I’m on to her.

With the office door wide open, I have a great view of her bed. She’s remaining still, not even twitching a foot. I’d think she’d need to fidget or something. How can she remain so still? Was it something she learned while incarcerated? Or while living with a violent man?

I can’t underestimate her. Given all she’s been through, and put her children through, she’s undoubtedly learned skills beyond what I can imagine. Although I have an idea, which is why I don’t trust her.

After only a few minutes, Jack and Ryker come out from the kitchen. Jack sees Ryker out and then joins me. “Did you talk to Graham about Ryker?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he still against him?”

“I wouldn’t say he’s against Ryker.”

Jack gives me a knowing look.

“He’s concerned. Can you really blame him after what happened?”

“The kid made a mistake. He understands that what he did is wrong and now wants to turn over a new leaf. He’s my son, and I want to give him that chance.”

“Why don’t we talk when Graham gets back?”

Jack frowns. “What if he doesn’t change his stance?”

“I’m sure he will. He’s been in your exact position with Ember. It’s just a matter of convincing the detective in him that Ryker isn’t a threat.”

“Okay. I’m going to order dinner. That way we can all focus on the discussion. I don’t want anyone distracted by having to cook.”

“I can do that if you prefer.”

He stands taller. “No, I’ll do it.”

I start to say something, but he hurries down the hall toward his apartment before I can get a word out.

Later, Graham, Jack, Carol, and I are gathered around the table with several pizzas. I’m not sure where Ember went, as I couldn’t find her, but there’s sure to be plenty of leftovers. This conversation has my stomach in knots, and I can’t imagine eating more than a couple of slices.

We have pleasant conversation as we begin eating, but there’s an underlying tension. Graham and Jack are both giving each other the side eye even as they discuss the upcoming Super Bowl game. I wish the outcome of that was the only thing I had to worry about. At this point, I can’t even bring myself to think about it. Not with all this discord between people I care about so much.

Once everyone stops going for more pizza, Jack leans forward and looks at Graham. “Have you thought more about my son?”

“He doesn’t have a good track record.”

“He’s my son.”

“And I’m concerned about my daughter and my future baby. He could be a danger to them.”

“A danger?” Jack’s face flushes red. “He didn’t hurt anyone while he was secretly living here! Everyone was safe. They still are.”

“I’m not convinced of that. If he was legitimate, he’d have spoken to us instead of secretly living in a wall next to Ember’s bedroom.”

“He didn’t know if we would be open to helping him.”

“An honest person would’ve tried. He showed us his true character by what he did.”

“Ryker is family!” Jack hits the table. “You had a chance to get to know your child, and you took it.”

Graham’s brows furrow. “She has never posed a threat to anyone.”

“Neither has Ryker!”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that point.”

Jack shakes his head. “No, because you think that means Ryker can’t move in.”

“Look, I understand your position. Obviously, I do. But here’s the thing—we have to think about the kids first. And even if you don’t want to do that, you have to admit we should think about the women. Do you want to put Carol and Kenzi in danger? Your sister is pregnant.”

“Stop acting like my son is a criminal! He deserves a chance to know his family, just as much as Ember did.”

“The difference is we already knew Ember was raised by Claire, and she had a good track record. Ryker was raised by a stranger and has already proven himself questionable at best.”

Pain thrums behind my temples and I get up to give myself some space from this argument that’s only going in circles.

“Where are you going?” Jack says.

“I’m getting a headache.”

“You need to be the voice of reason.”

I look around the table, and everyone gives me a range of pleading looks. “It really upsets me that we’re all at odds over this. I want to get to know my nephew.”

Graham scowls.

“But at the same time,” I continue, “I think we need to be careful. We know so little about him other than the fact that he squatted in our house when he could’ve spoken with us instead.”

Jack crosses his arms.

“There has to be some middle ground we can reach. Can we spend some time with Ryker before inviting him to move in? If we all get to know him, it’ll help give us a better picture of what kind of a person he is and how he fits into the family.”

“This house is more than big enough for all of us.” Jack glares at Graham.

“That may be, but I don’t want to worry about my family’s safety. At this point, I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

I rest a hand on my husband’s shoulder. “You’re saying that you’re open to getting to know him?”

“Of course I am.”

Jack’s expression relaxes.

“As long as he isn’t living here during that process,” Graham concludes.

My brother stiffens again. “He’s my son. Considering he doesn’t have a place to live, he should stay here. End of story.”

Graham presses his palms on the table. “Did you not hear anything I said about safety? It’s a real concern.”

“Just because you deal with actual criminals on a daily basis doesn’t mean my child is one.”

“He’s an adult, and he was arrested for good reason.”

My headache returns with a vengeance. “Why don’t we sleep on this and return to the topic tomorrow?”

Jack narrows his eyes. “No.”

I jolt. “No?”

“Ryker needs a place to stay, and we have more than enough room for him.”

My aching mind races. “Do we have a room that doesn’t have access to the rest of the house? We could use something like that on a trial basis.”

Graham’s expression contorts. “He’d still have access to Ember, living on the property. If he found one secret way in that we didn’t know about, I’m sure he can find another.”

Jack leaps to his feet. “He only knew about that because his mother told him on her deathbed! It isn’t like he’s some mastermind who’s going to find another entrance.”

“I’m willing to get to know him, but I’m not budging on the fact that he has no business staying here in the house. Not even in a room where he couldn’t access the rest of the house. I don’t even know of anything like that. Do you? It seems like if there was something, we’d know about it.”

Carol holds Jack’s hand. “Maybe it would be a good idea to let this rest, and we can come back to this tomorrow after we’ve all calmed down.”

“You’re on his side?”

“I’m not taking sides.”

“This is crazy.” Jack looks around at all of us. “You’re all crazy.”

Carol’s mouth falls open. “You don’t mean that.”

“Ryker isn’t dangerous. No child of mine could be.” He storms out of the room.

“Anyone with Brannon blood could be,” Graham mutters.

I stare at him. “Are you serious?”

“I said could be, not is. With your family history, anything is possible. Surely you can see that.”

“What I can see is that you’re definitely prejudiced for a person who’s fathered two children with two women in the Brannon bloodline.” I don’t wait for him to respond before I too storm out of the room.

25

Kenzi

The diary keeps sliding out of my hands as I hurry down the halls, turning down one corridor after another. One nice thing about this house is there are plenty of places to hide when I want to be alone—and after that conversation with Graham, I don’t want to be around anyone right now.

I’ve made my way to one of the least-used areas in the mansion. The cleaning staff gets to it so rarely that it has usually started to collect dust by the time they return. It doesn’t bother me. The expense is enough that I just don’t want to see anything waste away, and nothing is even close to that point.

Finally, I come to the room I’m after. It’s filled with old art of various kinds—paintings of people I can only assume are long-gone relatives, statues, a shelf of books that look like they would fall apart if picked up, stained glass lamps, and fancy furniture all with hand carved parts.

It’s breathtaking, especially when the light filters in through the windows just right. There’s hardly any outdoor light coming in now, but that’s fine. I’m here to spend time with a younger version of my mother. I don’t particularly want to spend time with any version of her, but I need answers.

I settle into a stiff chair with silky fabric underneath a massive painting of a sunset over an ocean near some cliffs with wolves standing at the edge. I have no idea where it is, but the image has always intrigued me.

After turning on a table lamp, I begin flipping through the diary’s pages. Do I start from the beginning or pick entries at random? She’s doodled along some edges, but otherwise nothing else makes any of the pages stand out. The entry I initially found intrigues me, but I might need context.

Beginning to end it is. Will I learn something completely new, or will the words just confirm my suspicions? I return to the first entry then start reading.

January 4th

My husband thinks he’s so sneaky, but he’s pitifully obvious. Nobody works the hours he claims—especially when the family already has more funds than could be used up in several generations. Even Jack, who is obsessed with his job, spends far less time away. I’m sure at some point the Brannon fortune will dwindle, but it won’t be during my lifetime or even that of my future grandkids. If I ever have any. At this rate, it seems unlikely I’ll ever have any children.

My mother goes on and on about how she never sees Dad and why she thinks he’s being unfaithful. I skim, already knowing she’s right—otherwise Billa wouldn’t exist. The next few entries are along the same lines, with little variance and a lot of venting.

Again, all things I already know. It’s beginning to look like this diary doesn’t hold any new information. But there are still many more pages to flip through before it ends. Something in there could point me to answers about the hands. I’m sure this has to be about the same time period.

Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking. It could be that, too. Either way, reading this is keeping me away from all of the current Brannon drama. I should probably do more to help my brother and husband find a happy medium, but I’m really stuck. I see both sides, and I’m definitely not thrilled about someone who squatted here moving in. But I also don’t want to keep my brother from getting to know his son. Besides, I would like to know my nephew, who by age seems more like a cousin.

I skim through more journal entries, going quick enough not to get bored with details I already know, but taking enough time that I won’t miss something important. If there’s a key word, it should jump out at me.

And just when I’m about ready to give up for the day, I see it.

Blood.

I stare at the word, half-expecting it to change on me, to morph into something boring and dull like the rest of the entries. It doesn’t.

My mother wrote about blood in her diary. This must be it, and even if it isn’t, it’s sure to be interesting. Perhaps even something I can use to get an actual reaction out of her and prove once and for all she isn’t actually paralyzed.

I return to the beginning of the entry and read again, this time slower.

August 23rd

Jack agreed to meet me privately to discuss his brother. If he knows something my husband is hiding, he isn’t likely to spill the beans to me, but I need to take the chance. Even if Jack doesn’t say anything, his facial expressions should be telling enough. I’ve grown especially good at reading people—a necessity while living here to keep track of the rotating door of Brannons and their guests.

Most of them hold disdain for me, even if they’re nice to my face. I can see it the little twitches of their mouths or in the way lines form between their eyebrows. It’s the little things that are so telling.

Okay, so I met him outside, near the woods. He took me to yet another secret door. I don’t even find those exciting anymore. Although I have to admit what was behind it did capture my attention. A swimming pool. And not one of those little kiddy ones, either. It’s a full-sized pool, not unlike the one the city built last summer.

Only this one is hidden in the Brannon house.

From all the wrappers and empty bottles strewn about, it’s obvious someone has been hosting parties. Raging ones from the looks of it.

It was hard to pay attention to what Jack was telling me—not that it mattered. It was obvious his only objective was to convince me my husband is on the up and up, not doing anything wrong.

Those two are so predictable I could set my wristwatch by them. But it gave me the opportunity to study the whole room. The first thing that caught my attention was a splash of rusty brown on a white towel. I know what dried blood looks like, and that was it.

Before I could spend any more time looking around, my brother-in-law put an arm around me and pulled me close.

I know I mentioned in previous entries that he might be my only chance at having babies, but the moment he touched me, my own blood turned to ice. I leaped up and yelled at him to never come near me again. He only laughed, so I ran from the room.

I’ll be back. I know where the door is now, and I need to find out what I can about the blood. Parties shouldn’t end in blood—and the amount on that towel wasn’t insignificant.

Something is going on in that room, and I intend to find out what.

I reread the entry. Everything fits. Blood near the pool and my uncle Jack putting unwanted moves on my mother. Those who knew about my brother Jack said she always claimed his father had forced himself on her. That makes me want to skip all further entries about him. I don’t need those details.

But the blood is intriguing, especially considering I found hand bones in the walls. Did my mother not see those? Or had they not yet been placed?

There are so many questions, but it’s starting to get late. This mystery can wait. It isn’t as if there’s a murderer running around now.

Or is there?

My mother is starting to look less guilty as far as the hand bones go—but the rest of these entries could reveal just about anything. She could have found out something that gave her an upper hand, and she might’ve gotten involved in whatever my father and uncle were doing.

And if she truly is faking her condition, then we could all be in more danger than I ever thought.

Ryker could be the least of our concerns.

26

Graham

My head spins as I stare at Kenzi’s empty spot on the bed. I hate being at odds with her, but I’m going to have to wait. I’ve learned when she’s upset enough to head to another wing of the house for some alone time, it’s best to give her the space.

I hate it, though. We usually talk through things, but this particular issue may be our biggest point of contention. I’m not sure how we’re going to find a middle ground. I know she wants to make both her brother and me happy, and she might even want to get to know her nephew, but I can’t ignore the danger in the situation.

It’s in my blood as a detective. Most people don’t change. Once a criminal, always a criminal. I know that more than most.

Knock, knock.

I glance over at my open door. Ember stands in the doorway, a sheepish expression on her face.

My stomach sinks. The last thing I want to do is disappoint another person I love. “Come in, kid.”

She hesitates before stepping inside and sitting on a corner of the bed opposite me.

“Everything okay?”

“No.”

I should’ve seen that coming. “Can I help with anything?”

My daughter frowns, her expression reminding me of a teenage-me with longer hair and a little makeup. “You could, but I don’t know if you will.”

“How about I hear you out?”

She lifts a brow. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” She studies me as if trying to see if I’m serious.

Guess I deserve that. Even though I know I’m right to doubt Ryker, I haven’t exactly given anyone else the space to be heard. I’ve been all talk, no listening. “Whatever you say, I promise not to interrupt.”

Ember blinks a few times, and I can see in her eyes that she has a lot on her mind. She twists and untwists her hair before finally speaking. “I really want to homeschool. It would give me more freedom to help Kenzi with her pregnancy and the baby when it gets here. Plus, I’d like to get a job.”

“I hear you, but you can do all of that while still going to school.”

She sighs dramatically. “Dad. You said you’d listen.”

“I am.”

“Not really. If I were doing school here, I could help Kenzi anytime she needs it.”

“You could,” I admit. “But so could Carol, Jack, and even Billa.”

My daughter scowls at me. “I’m only a few doors down from you guys. Jack and Carol are all the way downstairs and on the other side of the hall. Billa lives in a cottage in the middle of the woods. Plus, nobody’s going to care as much as the baby’s big sister. Nobody, not even aunts and uncles.”

My heart warms to hear her saying how much she already loves her baby brother or sister. “I can appreciate that.”

“And with homeschooling, I could do the work anytime during the day. If I get busy with the baby in the morning, I can do the work in the evening if I need to. It won’t matter.”

“You bring up some interesting points.”

Her eyes light up. “Really? I mean, of course I do. It only makes sense. I’m glad you’re finally seeing the light.”

I hold back a smile. “Let me talk with Kenzi, okay? This isn’t a decision we can make lightly. Especially since we’re also trying to figure out this whole Ryker situation.”

“That’s easy.”

“Is it?”

She nods. “Obviously. You need to give him a chance. At least let him have the opportunity to prove himself before you write him off completely.”

“You do realize he snuck into our house and lived in our walls, right? He was just on the other side of your bedroom wall and could have been watching you through a small hole in there. That’s a disturbing thought.”

“And do you realize that hole was covered by a poster for practically the entire time he was there? You know how often I move things around. I’d only moved the poster the day before he was arrested.”

I jolt at the news. “You never thought to mention that before?”

She shrugs. “Guess not.”

“Even so, I can’t trust someone who would make that kind of a life choice. He could have come directly to us and asked about staying here, but he didn’t. He decided to go the illegal route.”

“Was it really illegal since the door was unlocked and he’s family?”

“Yes, just like it would be if he entered through the front door if that was unlocked. He may be your cousin by blood, but he’s a stranger to us.”

“You’re such a cop.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Sometimes.”

“What would you have me do—that doesn’t include letting a criminal move into our house?”

Ember plays with her hair again for a moment. “He’s only a criminal because of these charges against him. Give him a chance. Get to know him. You might find he isn’t actually the danger you think.”

“If I do that, and he does cause a problem, will you all finally stop treating me like I’m the bad guy in all of this? He’s the one who was squatting in our walls.”

She looks deep in thought. “I can only speak for myself, but I think if you give him a chance, everyone else would at least appreciate your efforts. I think Uncle Jack might want more, but I guess we’ll have to jump off that bridge if we get to it.”

“You mean cross it.”

“Jump off seems more likely.”

I rub my chin and think about it. “How do you propose I go about giving Ryker a chance?”

“We could have him over for dinner and try to get to know him.”

“That could work. Speaking of work, he needs to get a job. The fact that he’s being lazy and expecting others to pay his way makes it hard for me to find any respect for him. If he would at least look for steady employment, that would go a long way in helping me to see he cares. A man who refuses to even look for a job is either irresponsible or abusive. Or both.”

“Judgmental much?”

“No. I’ve seen more than you can imagine. Grown men who refuse to work always fall into one of those categories. If they can’t work for some reason, that’s a different story. Those guys almost always feel terrible for putting their family members in the position to take over their financial responsibility.”

“What makes you think he isn’t in that boat?”

“He’s young and able-bodied. Even if he was middle-aged and able-bodied, he could get a job if he really wanted to.”

“So what you’re saying is that if he was to get a job and spend some time with us, you’d be willing to give him a chance?” She looks at me with pleading eyes.

It’s hard to say no to that. I draw in a deep breath. “It’s at least a start. I can’t promise that I’ll want him to move in even after all of it. But it would be a lot more likely, especially if he can convince me he’s a good guy who’s made some bad decisions.”

Her entire face brightens. “Really?”

Why do I get the feeling she’s already been talking to him behind my back?

Before I answer, she throws her arms around me. “Can he come over for dinner one day this week?”

“Maybe we could all go out for a meal.”

“Don’t trust him in here?” Her smile fades.

“I’m extending an olive branch. Trust is going to take time.”

“What if he can’t pay for his own meal?”

“Given he’s not working, I’m sure he can’t.”

Ember tilts her head. “So, you’re willing to pay for his food?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

She squeezes me again. “You won’t regret it!”

I return her embrace. “We’d better let everyone know, so we can figure out the details.”

“You check the calendar, and I’ll let Ryker know.”

I pause. “You’ll let him know? Are you telling me you know how to contact him?”

“He is my cousin.”

I suppose the fact that she’s been in contact with him and she’s still in one piece is a good sign. I’ll have to talk with him about not meeting my teenage daughter behind my back later.

Ember practically skips out of the room.

Hopefully this isn’t a huge mistake.

27

Ember

Ryker tugs on the collar of his shirt. “Do I really have to wear this thing? It’s really scratchy.”

Billa glares at him. “You want to be accepted as part of this family?”

“I am part of this family.” He pulls the fabric out even more than before.

“Being blood and being accepted are two totally different things.” Billa slaps his hand away from the shirt. “Ask me how I know.”

We’re in Billa’s cottage helping spruce up Ryker for tonight’s dinner. He’s showered, shaved, and has a fresh haircut—all thanks to my aunt.

Ryker grimaces at her before turning to me. “You seriously couldn’t have found something more comfortable for me to wear?”

“Do you know what you’re asking? I had to find an outfit in your size that could pass as modern. There are a ton of clothes in the mansion, but most of them would be ridiculous for dinner. Do you want to look like a 1700s dude about to go horseback riding? Or maybe you’d rather look like you just stepped out of a groovy disco? It isn’t like I could grab one of my dad’s shirts—he’d totally know if you were wearing something of his.”

He squirms as Billa runs gel through his hair. “When you put it like that, this isn’t so bad. Where’d you find these clothes?”

“In a closet full of stuff that looks like it was all straight from the eighties. I took a few things for myself that are in style now—like yours, if you’d quit complaining about it.”

Ryker makes a face at me.

Billa moves Ryker’s hand away from the collar again.

“Who do you think wore this stuff?” He scratches his back. “Maybe they had scabies. That could be why it’s so itchy.”

I roll my eyes.

“It’s a legit question.” He keeps scratching.

“It’s just itchy material,” Billa says.

“Seriously,” Ryker says. “Who wore it?”

I think about the timeline. “My grandpa, is my guess. I think his brother was dead by then. It can be hard to get straight facts about this family. All the previous generations wanted to hide anything embarrassing.”

Ryker scratches his side. “I’m wearing a grandpa’s getup? Totally tubular.”

Billa snickers.

“Nobody’ll notice,” I assure him. “Everything fits you great, and that style is popular again. Dad will definitely not think you raided one of our closets.”

“You raided the closet. I’m just wearing these funky clothes.”

Billa stands back and looks him over. “I think you’re set. We can’t give Graham the impression we’re working together.”

Even though we clearly are.

Ryker tugs on his collar again.

She glances at the time. “You should leave first. Then Ryker can go, and I’ll wait about five minutes then meet you all in the driveway. There’s no way I’m going inside with Regina there.”

“At all?”

“Only if I can’t get around it.” She nudges me toward the door. “Go. Ryker and I won’t be far behind.”

“Okay, okay.” I hurry through the woods then go inside through a side entrance. When I reach the top of the spiral staircase, Kenzi and Dad are just stepping out of their room.

“You were able to talk to Ryker?” Dad asks.

“Yeah. He said he’d be right on time.”

“Great.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Hopefully when he sees all the effort Ryker went to for this, he’ll soften his stance.

Billa steps out from the woods just as we reach the car. She gives me a quick wink and makes a generic comment about the weather. Jack and Carol come out of the house and lock the door. Grandma is staying home with one of Carol’s nurse friends.

That only leaves Ryker.

He appears on the sidewalk, as if he just walked here from somewhere.

My heart leaps in my throat, and I quickly glance at Dad.

It clearly takes him a moment to realize that the clean, nicely dressed guy is who we’re waiting for. “Ryker?”

He walks up to my dad and shakes his hand. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

Apparently he’s laying it on thick.

Dad almost smiles. “It’s, uh, good to see you. You seem to be doing better for yourself.”

“I am.” Ryker flips his hair, even though it isn’t in his eyes anymore thanks to Billa’s handiwork. “I’m applying for work and trying to get my life fixed up.”

“It looks like it.”

“And in that vein, I’d like to apologize.”

“You would?” Dad lifts a brow.

Ryker nods and stands straighter. “Yes, sir. I really was not thinking clearly when I moved into the walls of your house. When my mom died, I lost everything. She was the last of my relatives on that side, and without her income, I couldn’t afford to keep making the payments on our place. I tried but ended up losing everything. My confidence took a real hit, and I couldn’t get back on my feet. I was too embarrassed to reach out to a father I didn’t know, but at the same time I didn’t know what else to do—or if his side of the family would accept me.”

Jack gives my dad a knowing look.

“If I could go back in time,” Ryker continues, “I’d make different decisions. Unfortunately, there are no do-overs in life. Only second chances, and I hope you’ll consider giving me one.”

Dad shifts uncomfortably. “I certainly look forward to getting to know you a little better over dinner.”

That could be the most noncommittal answer I’ve ever heard. But at least it’s something. I think all our work is starting to pay off.

We all pile into two cars. Jack, Carol, Ryker, and Billa into one, and my parents and me in the other. I wish Billa would join us, but I can’t blame her. She’s annoyed with Dad for being so against Ryker.

When we get to the restaurant, we don’t have to wait for a table because Kenzi already made the reservation ahead of time. We sit at a long table with plenty of space between Ryker and Dad, but not so much that they can’t talk.

Uncle Jack asks him about his job search, and Ryker says he’s been putting in applications at all of the auto body shops to put his mechanic certification to good use.

Dad actually seems impressed and has a slew of questions about that.

Once we get our meals, the conversation dies down. I don’t realize how hungry I am until I practically inhale my food. It’s time to turn the attention from my cousin to me, and the odds of my dad being receptive are good with his belly full and things with Ryker having gone so well.

I clear my throat before speaking. “I’m really excited about being able to start homeschooling next semester.”

Carol smiles. “Are you going to be able to do that?”

“I hope so.” I glance at Dad and Kenzi, throwing them my sweetest smile. “I’ve been thinking more about my future career, and I think I want to be a nurse like you, Auntie Carol. I could help you with Grandma, and you could teach me what you know.”

The silence around the table would be deafening if we weren’t in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

Carol’s smile widens. “I didn’t know you had an interest.”

Dad blinks rapidly. “You don’t want to be a video game designer anymore?”

I play with the napkin in my lap. “I am interested, but I like the idea of nursing too. It’s something that would really help people.”

“And there’s such a need for skilled, caring nurses,” Carol says. “I’d love to help you get a leg up on your career. That’s the perfect reason for homeschooling. You couldn’t get that kind of education in high school.”

Dad gives me a side eye. “However, you could do that after school if you were going there.”

“Not with all my homework. I don’t think you realize how much busy work they give us. Homeschoolers have more time with their families. Plus, don’t forget I’d be available to help with Kenzi and the baby during the day—more good training for the nursing field, should I decide to take a pediatric route.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

Maybe I misread the situation, and bringing it up now wasn’t such a good idea.

“I think it’s brilliant,” Carol says. “You really have a good head on your shoulders.”

“Thank you.” I beam, hoping Dad takes her words to heart.

His expression is unreadable, so I drop the subject. At least now I have one more person on my side.

I’m one step closer to being able to be Luke’s girlfriend. More than anything, I want to break the curse of the Ember Brannons. The first one was cursed with a forbidden love that was just out of reach.

I just hope my situation doesn’t kill me like hers did her.

28

Kenzi

Where am I? Desperate, I look around the dark room, barely lit by a nightlight with a greenish hue. This is the movie room, and I’m sprawled across the comfy couch with a blanket partially covering my legs.

I must’ve fallen asleep while watching something with Graham and he covered me. Except I don’t remember coming in here when we returned from dinner. And why wouldn't he have either woken me or carried me back into bed? He must’ve been concerned about the baby.

Still, it’s strange. Unless I came in here when I was unable to sleep—which seems to be a nightly occurrence these days.

The last thing I remember is sitting in bed with Graham, discussing Ryker and also Ember’s homeschooling idea. Neither of us had heard anything about a desire to become a nurse before dinner, but we both like that she’s exploring multiple options.

It’s weird that I can’t remember coming in here, but maybe this is the kind of thing people talk about when they mention pregnancy brain. My body’s so focused on the life growing inside of me that I can’t remember trivial things. Walking slightly down the hall would certainly fall into that category.

I pull the blanket off my legs and swing my feet to the floor. Only it isn’t the ground that my soles touch.

It’s something plastic and pokey.

Good thing I didn’t step down hard. That would’ve hurt. I reach for the object and pull it up.

A scream catches in my throat and I nearly drop the doll—the same one I put in a trunk in a completely different wing of the house.

I stare at the doll, whose expression is especially menacing in the shadows of the dim green light.

A chill runs down my spine and I set the doll on the couch while I simultaneously leap up. I seriously need to donate this thing to one of the museums that wants haunted dolls.

She definitely fits the bill.

I shudder and wrap the blanket around me. Should I leave her there or try to hide her again? Even if I lock her in a box and bury her in the woods, she’ll still find a way to return to the house.

I’m not sure how, but I don’t doubt it. Ever since I moved back, she’s been playing games like this. Ember swears it isn’t her. Jack and Carol aren’t the type to engage in a scary, ongoing trick. Billa believes an actual ghost is moving it around, so she wouldn’t mess with it—she thinks that’s just asking for the spirit to turn on her.

Then we have my mother. I wish I could blame this on her, but the doll was moving around when she was in prison. Though it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that she sent someone to come to the house and move it around. It’s a lot of work over a hoax with a doll, but she would probably find a lot of joy in knowing that she was messing with us even from behind bars. She did, after all, tell Ryker’s mom about one of the secret entrances. It wouldn’t be a stretch for her to tell someone else about another one—perhaps the same one since Ryker was using it. Could he have been behind the doll’s movements?

If I put much more thought into this, I’m going to drive myself crazy.

My mother would love that—she’s the one who sent me away as a child, after all.

The best way to get back at her is to put all of this out of my mind. I leave the doll on the couch. Regina would want me freaking out and running around the house to shove her in some random, usually ignored room.

Not this time, Mother. In fact, I have another idea altogether.

I toss the blanket back onto the couch, careful not to hide the doll, then I return to my room and grab the diary. Graham is sleeping soundly on his side of the bed.

How I envy him.

But I’m going to make the most of my situation. I march down the stairs and toward my dad’s old office.

The night vision camera I ordered finally came in today, but I haven’t had time to install it yet. If I manage to get any sleep tonight, I’ll put it in first thing in the morning.

I can’t wait to prove everyone wrong about my mother. She has to be behind the doll moving around. Then when I have the evidence, she can be carted back to prison where she belongs.

Everything will be right in the world again.

When I reach her room, I check to make sure the door to Jack and Carol’s apartment is closed. I don’t want to wake them.

Then I sit next to my mother’s bed.

Her eyes are wide open. She glances my way.

“Just me,” I say. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought we could spend some time together. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

She blinks. I wish I knew if that was communication or just blinking.

No matter. It won’t change anything because I’m going on with my plan regardless. With any luck, I can evoke a reaction out of her.

I set my phone on video and press record. Can’t risk having no proof of her doing something a paralyzed person can’t do. Then I hold up her diary.

She blinks again, because of course she does.

“Recognize this?”

Blink.

This is going to be fun.

“It’s one of your old journals, but you already knew that. You probably wanted me to find it—that’s why it was lying out in the open in that one room we usually ignore. Somehow you knew I’d take the doll there. Must be that mother-daughter connection, because you know me so well. Right, Regina?”

Blink.

“You don’t have to be afraid to answer me. Wouldn’t it be fun if you could sit up and we could have a conversation like old times?”

Blink.

Time to up my game.

“Let’s read some of this, shall we?” I start flipping through the pages and realize I can’t see a thing. I either need my phone to light the pages or I have to turn on the overhead lamp. But I can’t risk not having a video of her reacting, and I also can’t risk the bright light drawing attention by Jack or Carol.

Blink.

I close the journal with gusto.

Regina doesn’t so much as flinch. She’s good. I have to give her that.

“We’ll save that for later, when the lighting’s better. How about we just talk about some of these entries. Doesn’t that sound like a jolly good time?”

Blink.

I lean back in the chair. “I find the timing really interesting, don’t you? I mean, it’s quite the lucky coincidence to discover the room with the hands in the wall then only a short time later find your journal where you wrote about the same exact room. I couldn’t have asked for better fortune.”

Blink.

Two can play at this game. I rest my arm on the bed right next to her. “You were involved with it, weren’t you?”

Not even a blink this time.

“You were furious at Dad for refusing you children, so you joined his brother in chopping off people’s hands. It’s the perfect revenge. Were those people Dad’s work colleagues?”

Blink.

“I really can’t tell if your blinking is purposeful or not. Are you trying to admit to your part in it?”

Nothing.

“Did you enjoy cutting of people’s hands? Did it make you feel powerful when you felt so weak at home?”

Blink.

“It was fun, wasn’t it? A jolt of adrenaline, I bet.”

Nothing.

“Not going to admit to it?” I rise from the chair. “Can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t want to take responsibility for something so awful, either. But those bones are all in police custody, and if there’s even a drop of your DNA on one, everyone is going to know about your part in it.”

Blink.

I can’t believe she’s not reacting at all. Not even a single flinch. No eyebrow furrowing or anything.

The tiny camera I’m going to install tomorrow will hopefully show what I can’t. In the meantime, I really need some sleep. Perhaps I’ll even call a doctor to come to the house and give a second opinion about her condition.

One way or another, I’m going to uncover the truth about my mother.

29

Kenzi

Hopefully Jack and Carol don’t notice me stealing glances over at the massive bookshelf. I can barely see the camera I put between two of my father’s knickknacks, but I can see it. That means someone else could too. Assuming they were looking for it. I probably wouldn’t notice it if I wasn’t trying.

“Are you okay?” Jack throws me a questioning glance.

Caught. I force a smile. “Yeah, of course.”

“You seem distracted.”

“Sorry.” I get up and point to a painted portrait of my father in his early adulthood. “Do you ever feel like he’s watching you?”

Carol’s eyebrows draw together. “The painting?”

She clearly thinks I’m insane.

But she also buys my ruse and believes that’s what I was looking at.

Jack studies it. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve always felt that way. It’s like he knows I don’t belong in here and wants me to leave.”

“Exactly!”

Carol looks between us, like she can’t believe we’re even having this discussion. “It’s a portrait. Nothing more.”

Jack makes a face. “There are other paintings in this house that feel the same way. I think some of those people are even meaner than him.”

“They might’ve been, but they’re all long dead.” She glances at her watch. “When is the doctor supposed to be here? I’m going to need to change Regina’s diaper soon.”

Ding-dong!

“Sounds like he’s here now.” I leap up and race for the door. It’s such a relief that neither Jack nor Carol can see the hidden camera. Hopefully they’ll understand when I tell them about it—after I catch my mother getting up to walk around the house. I aimed the camera away from the door to their apartment, so it doesn’t invade their privacy.

I thought of everything.

The doctor gives me a wide smile when I open the door. “It’s great to see you, Kenzi.”

“You too.” We exchange a firm but friendly handshake. “Come on in. I’ll show you to my mother.”

Dr. Wellington was one of the doctors who made house calls when I was a kid. Regina wouldn’t hear of carting me around when I was sick, so she relied on a few doctors who would come out.

“You think she isn’t paralyzed?”

“I just want a second opinion.”

“Have you seen her do anything suspicious in the time she’s been here?”

My cheeks warm as if his question was an accusation. “Not really, but I want to make sure—you know, from someone I trust.”

“Glad to be of service.” He gives me a nonjudgmental smile. “I’m glad you caught me when you did. If you’d have waited a week, I’d be lounging at my new retirement villa.”

“You’re retiring?”

“It’s long overdue.” He chuckles.

I introduce him to Jack and Carol, then the three of us stand back while the doctor examines Regina. He tests pressure points, and she doesn’t respond.

Is that possible to fake? My stomach sinks at the thought, but then I remember she had nothing but time in prison. I wouldn’t put it past her to spend all of her free time learning to act paralyzed.

But is she talented enough to pull one over on a doctor who has been in practice for so many decades? Someone she knows personally?

Seems unlikely. But not impossible.

I find myself fidgeting. It must be over the top because Carol rests a hand on my arm and whispers that it’ll all be okay.

Oh, to have that kind of faith. Then again, she never really knew my mother. Not like Jack and me.

Dr. Wellington turns around removes his stethoscope from his ears.

“What did you find?” I blurt out, unable to take it another moment.

“I’m sorry to tell you, but your mother is most certainly paralyzed.”

He’s nowhere near as sorry as I am to hear it.

“Thank you, doctor.” Carol shakes his hand.

“Is there any other testing you can do?” I ask.

“You could bring her into the hospital for some scans.” Dr. Wellington frowns. “But I wouldn’t recommend it. It would be a waste of your time and possibly money, depending on your insurance coverage.”

“We trust your opinion,” Carol says. “It was really generous of you to come here to the house.”

“It was my pleasure. This reminds me of the old days.”

“Wonderful. Let me show you to the door.” She ushers him out of the room before I can say another word.

I turn to my brother. “Why is she so eager to get him out of here?”

He gives me a knowing look. “Because you need to accept what we all know to be true.”

“That she’s faking?”

“Kenzi…”

“You’d really put it past her?” I lift my brows. “The woman who kept you locked up for so many years? The same person who tried to burn down our home?”

He puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Carol and I have been taking care of her since she got back. Our mom can’t move.”

I glance over at her. “That’s what she wants us to think.”

“It’s the truth.”

Carol returns. “I hope you believe she’s actually paralyzed now.”

“You don’t know her like I do. This woman is devious beyond compare.” I glare at my mother. “She took her young, innocent daughter and forced her into a mental facility against her will.”

“I won’t deny the cruelty in that—just like what she did to Jack was unforgivable. But it’s time to move on. She can’t do anything to hurt us now.”

“Regina lied through her teeth to get me institutionalized. Do you know what that did to me?”

“I can imagine, and I’m sorry you went through that. It was wrong.”

“If you truly understand, you know why I can never trust her. Ever.”

Carol gives me a sympathetic glance. “I know she seems bigger than life to the two of you, but now she’s an immobile old lady who can’t do anything for herself. We have to change her diapers, Kenzi. I really don’t think that if she had any say in this she would stand for that.”

“Unless faking it benefitted her.”

Jack and Carol exchange a knowing look.

Apparently my brother is on her side too. Not that it matters, because I have the hidden camera. I can still get proof that she’s faking. Now that Regina thinks we’re all buying into this facade, she’ll be less careful.

This could actually work to my advantage.

“I guess you’re right.”

Carol throws me a doubtful look. “You do?”

I sigh dramatically. “I can’t argue the facts, can I? Dr. Wellington is trustworthy. If he says she’s paralyzed, then she must be. It’s time I accept the facts.”

It’s obvious by the look of disbelief on my sister-in-law’s face that she doesn’t buy my act. Apparently I’m not the actress my mother is.

I’ll take that as a compliment.

Jack smiles at me. “I’m glad you’re coming around, especially since you have so many other things to focus on with the baby and Ember wanting to homeschool.”

“Yeah, you’re right. My mother isn’t the big, powerful person she used to be. Now she’s little and harmless.”

My mother doesn’t even flinch. What I wouldn’t give to know what she’s thinking.

“Do you think you’ll let Ember homeschool?” Jack asks. “It would really help us a lot if she learns to take care of Mom.”

“And I can teach her a lot to give her a real head start should she decide to go to nursing school later.”

“Or med school.” Jack gives me a pleading look.

“Graham and I have been talking. I think it’s very likely—assuming she keeps up on her schoolwork.”

My phone rings.

Graham.

“I need to take this.” I hurry down the hall and accept the call. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Did you get bad news today?”

“Dr. Wellington says Regina is actually paralyzed.”

“Then you’ll definitely be interested in what I just found out.”

“Tell me!”

“I want to tell you in person.”

“Then why call me?”

“To make sure you’re at home. I’m leaving the station now.”

I groan. “See you in a few. This better be good.”

“Believe me, it is.”

“Will you at least tell me what this is about?”

“When I see you.”

Hopefully this news outweighs the doctor’s diagnosis.

30

Graham

In my line of work, every day is either feast or famine. Boredom or insane busyness. Today is a huge feast day, and it all has to do with my family. I have news to share with everyone, so I clocked out and am now stuck in traffic.

Kenzi has texted me a few times already wanting to know where I am. Can’t say that I blame her since I called her and didn’t even give her a clue as to what the news is.

The mystery of the hands is closer than ever to being solved, though there are still questions yet to be answered.

Finally, I make it through the lunch rush. I pull into my driveway. Kenzi appears outside my car before I manage to open the door. I give her a kiss. “You weren’t watching for me, were you?”

“After what you told me? What is it?”

“I see where Ember gets her curiosity and burning energy.”

“What did you find out?”

“News about the hand bones.”

My wife’s eyes widen. “Was Regina’s DNA found on them?”

“You’re not eager to send her back to prison, are you?”

She frowns. “Not that it matters. They won’t take her back.”

I wrap an arm around her, and we head inside.

Jack and Carol are waiting in the entryway.

“You too?” I chuckle.

“What’s the news?” Jack asks.

“We may as well get comfortable.” I lead the way to a sitting room just off to the side of the entry.

All three of them look at me in wide-eyed expectation.

“The bones that have been identified are tied to people who say they lost their hands forty years ago. Some of the victims are already dead, but the ones I spoke to all gave the same basic time period.”

“Forty years ago?” Kenzi’s eyebrows draw together. “But that doesn’t line up with the diary. She discovered the pool before Jack was born.”

“And I’m in my fifties.”

“Right,” I say. “That doesn’t mean she had nothing to do with the bones, but none of the people I spoke with mentioned her.”

“They might be too scared.” Kenzi looks at me with pleading eyes. “This could be related to the mob, remember?”

“It wasn’t. The ones who spoke openly said it was only the two Brannon brothers—no women.”

“You’re sure they aren’t lying?”

“Their stories line up, and I have no reason to believe they would’ve spoken to each other. None of them wanted to think about it. They’ve lived all these years with missing hands and seemed to have made peace with it. Or at least given up on the idea of getting any revenge.”

“So, Regina had nothing to do with it?” Kenzi’s obvious disappointment cuts me. “She’s most likely actually paralyzed and she had nothing to do with the hands. Even though her journal talks about finding blood near the pool?”

“It would appear that way.”

“What a day.”

Everyone talks over each other. My brother-in-law wants to talk about Ryker moving in with us and my wife is eager to finish reading her mother’s diary for more answers.

The front door opens, then Ember’s voice calls out. “Is anyone here?”

Jack turns to me again. “You’re not getting out of this discussion. I’m not going to back down until my son can move in and get to know us.”

“Hello?” Ember calls. “We need to talk about homeschooling. I just had my last final exam!”

Feast or famine.

I nod to Jack. “Invite him over for dinner tonight. We’ll talk then.”

“You’re letting him into the house?”

“Yes. Give him a call.”

“Aren’t you afraid he’s going to steal something?”

“Just invite him and figure out dinner.”

“It isn’t my night.”

I leap up from my seat and hurry into the entry, where Ember is kicking off her shoes. “How’d your test go?”

“Pretty good, I think. Though I won’t know for sure until I get my grades.”

“How long will that be?”

She shrugs. “Probably after mid-winter break.”

“Does that mean we need to let the school know about your decision to homeschool before then?”

Her eyes widen, and her mouth falls open. “Are you saying…?”

Kenzi appears by my side and wraps an arm around my waist. “We want to do what we can to help you have the best education possible, and you’ve made a good case that staying home and learning from Carol would give you a head start if you decide to go into the medical field.”

Ember makes a squealing noise so high pitched, I’m sure all the dogs in the neighborhood have gone into hiding. “Are you serious?”

“We are.” I nod. “But you need to keep your grades up and show us you’re doing more than you would at school. We’re going to reevaluate each semester.”

“Thank you, thank you!” She throws her arms around both of us, nearly knocking me over. I manage to keep my balance and keep Kenzi from falling over too.

Carol and Jack join us, then Ember dances around the entry. “This is the best news!”

“Don’t get too excited,” I tell her. “We still have to figure out what’s involved with pulling you out of school.”

“I’ve already filled out the papers. All you guys have to do is sign them!” She bolts upstairs.

Kenzi and I laugh at her enthusiasm.

Carol heads for the kitchen. “I need to figure out dinner. Maybe Billa will even join us since we have a second opinion about Regina. She’s as harmless as a fly.”

“That’s yet to be seen,” Kenzi mutters.

I give her a kiss. “Everything is working out. Let’s enjoy the day.”

“I’m never going to be able to relax as long as Regina is in this house.”

“You have my word that I’ll keep you safe.”

“Thank you.”

The look in her eyes tells me she doesn’t think anyone can protect her from her mother.

31

Kenzi

My eyelids grow heavy, but I’m determined to read every last page of my mother’s diary. And if I don’t find the answers I’m looking for, I’ll tear the house apart until I find more journals. It’s too much of a coincidence that I found both the pool and this book so close together—and while she’s living here.

Swish, swish.

I freeze, all my senses on high alert.

Footsteps.

Maybe this is the proof I need.

Hands shaking, I reach for my phone and tiptoe toward the door. Not that I can easily hide in a room with the lights shining bright enough for me to read the old scrawlings of an even older woman.

I poke my head into the hallway. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dimmer light.

Swish.

If it is her, I have the advantage. Not only is youth on my side, but even if she isn’t paralyzed, the woman is pushing ninety—her health must be failing, and she won’t be able to get away so easily.

More footsteps sound, and I follow them.

Someone is definitely walking around these second level halls.

I check my phone to make sure the camera is ready, then I rush in the direction of the noise. It will be so vindicating to finally have proof that I haven’t been making it up all this time.

The steps get louder. I’m almost to her.

I round a corridor.

See a figure in front of me.

She turns toward me.

I hold up my phone. Snap the picture. The flash lights up everything for a moment.

She screams.

I yelp.

“Kenzi! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Ember.

It isn’t my mother. It’s just Ember.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” I demand.

“I heard something.”

“What?” Maybe she heard footsteps. Regina could be around here still.

“Papers shuffling.”

My heart sinks. “Like someone was reading a book?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“That was me. I’m going through Regina’s diary.”

“At this time of night?”

“Looks like we’re both night owls,” I say. “Did you hear footsteps? Anything else suspicious?”

“Not until you decided to sneak attack me and then blind me. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“I thought you were my mother, if it helps.”

“She’s in bed. I checked a little bit ago. Besides, didn’t the second doctor say she’s really paralyzed?”

“That’s what they all say, but they don’t know her like I do.”

“I think she might be legit.”

“Why don’t we both agree to go to bed? It’s too late for both of us.”

“Did you find anything in the journal?” Ember asks.

“No. I keep falling asleep.”

“You should definitely go to bed.”

“Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

We go our separate ways, but when I get back to the reading room, I’m too wired to put away the diary. I skim through a few entries and manage to stay awake the whole time. Just as I’m about to close the book because I haven’t come to anything interesting, something catches my attention in the next entry.

June 2nd

It’s been a couple years since my last entry, but I need to get back to recording my thoughts. Things are really strange around here. More so than normal—there’s a typical level of craziness you have to endure living with these people, and recent events have tipped the scales.

Jack has been acting odd, especially in the evenings, so I decided to follow him last night.

He went straight to the pool.

I hadn’t been there in over a year, having gotten bored with trying to determine what was going on in there. Once in a while I found more blood like the first time, but I couldn’t figure out why. What was going on.

Now I know.

And I’m sick over it. I’ve already vomited everything in my stomach, but such a violent purge isn’t enough to cleanse me.

These people are even worse than I ever imagined—and I knew they were out to lunch before.

I was about to go in when I heard voices, so I stayed outside and listened through the crack in the door. Nobody inside noticed the door start to open.

Jack was arguing with someone. It was an all-out shouting match with plenty of vulgarities exchanged.

I had to cover my mouth to keep from making any noise. The entire interaction was shockingly bad.

Then I heard something I won’t ever be able to forget. I can’t describe it, but the sound keeps echoing in my mind. The closest thing I could say it mimicked is when you chop meat for dinner.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. The scream that followed was horrific. Beyond description. Unforgettable. It didn’t even sound human. For a moment, I thought they’d sacrificed an animal.

Then the door opened all the way, and a man ran out holding his arm. It dripped blood. Lots of it—where his hand should’ve been.

Jack came to the doorway and shouted for the bleeding man to come back with the money before he lost his other hand too. Then he laughed maniacally before closing the door.

I hid in the woods and waited for Jack to leave, throwing up and crying the entire time.

After my brother-in-law finally departed, I waited until I was sure he wouldn’t return and then I went inside to the pool.

There were about a dozen jars. They all had hands in them.

I shook so hard I thought I might die from shock, but somehow I managed to pull myself together and leave. There was no way I could face anyone, so I went inside through a wing nobody ever uses and avoided everybody until I got to my room.

Thankfully my marriage is all but a ghost at this juncture, so I was able to dig out this journal and get my thoughts down in peace. Now to hide it again and hope like the dickens nobody ever finds it. If Jack catches wind that I know what he’s been doing, he’s likely to take my hands.

July 27th

I’m not sure how I’ve managed to keep up the ruse this long, but Jack doesn’t suspect I know anything. I’ve been following him each night, and yelling at people in the pool is a daily occurrence.

At least once a week, someone flees from there with only one hand.

It makes me just as sick as the first time. I can’t believe anyone would be so cruel, and from what I can tell, it only has to do with money. Nothing else.

How do they not see that someone’s quality of life is far more important than money?

But I’ve made a decision.

I’m going to do what I can to stop the men from going in there to have their lives irrevocably destroyed. After watching Jack over these two months, I can guess with accuracy when someone is going to lose a hand.

Starting tomorrow, I’m going to step in and warn the men coming to our house.

I’m scared to death, but I have to do this.

July 28th

I can’t believe it! I actually did—I prevented a man from going into the secret pool and losing his hand. I’m still shaking, but it was worth it. I figured he’d think I was crazy, but he believed me about what Jack was going to do to him, and he ran faster than I’ve ever seen anyone run.

Later Jack came out from the pool, ranting and raving about the man who didn’t show up—and how he should’ve gotten his hand.

Not only was I right, but I made a difference in his life! This is insane.

Maybe this is why I’m doomed to live in this cursed house—to do some good.

August 26th

I’ve been tailing my brother-in-law every day, and so far I’ve managed to prevent five men from losing their hands. Five! I’m really making a difference.

I’ll keep this up until either Jack stops with this madness or until he figures me out and… I don’t even want to think about that. But I’m so glad I’ve found a purpose, that I figured out what was going on and have been able to stop it.

I stare at the page, unable to believe my eyes. Regina was trying to stop the hands from being chopped off? She was proud of her good work?

Who is this woman, and what has she done with my mother?

It’s a hard pill to swallow, but there’s actually a good side to Regina Brannon. Or at least there used to be.

Does that woman still exist? Has she been buried all these years? Or is it simply a side to her that I was never allowed to see?

If my brother saw that side of her, it explains why he wants to help her—though I have no idea how he can forgive her for keeping him locked away for so long.

Between this revelation and the doctor’s second opinion, I’m starting to rethink my stance on my mother.

Maybe she really is paralyzed, and I need to come to terms with that fact.

Perhaps she isn’t fully evil. What if she, like the rest of us, is just a complicated individual with both good and bad parts? Someone who has been trying to make the best of a terrible situation?

That’s a tough pill to swallow. But she did save multiple men from losing their hands.

Could there actually be more to my mother than I’ve given her credit for all these years?

32

Ember

The last few weeks have gone by in a blur of activity. During my mid-winter break, my parents and I got everything figured out for homeschooling. They went over the paperwork, signed it, and took it the district office to turn it in. Then I was finally able to gather my things from the school locker and walk out of that building for the last time.

Next came the task of figuring out my curriculum. Dad and Kenzi not only went over the one I’d chosen with a fine-toothed comb, but they had no less than five hundred thousand opinions about everything. But after what felt like ten eternities, we finally came to an agreement.

What’s just as good as that is Dad finally agreed to let Ryker move in. He’s staying in a room a few doors down from Jack and Carol. After having dinner with us every night, Ryker managed to win Dad over. It helped that he got an auto mechanic job at Dad’s favorite car shop, where he knows the owner who gives nothing but praise about Ryker.

Nothing has gone missing since he moved in, and in fact our newest roommate has been fixing little things here and there, even working on the baby’s nursery.

As promised, I showed him where the moonshine used to be. The formerly illegal alcohol is now gone, but he was thrilled about some of the other old finds. It’s been fun getting to know my cousin more.

I’ve started driver’s ed training, and Ryker has even been helping with that—but his one requirement is that I learn my way around under a car’s hood as I’m also figuring out how to operate it. If I ever get stuck at the side of a road, I’ll know what to do.

My phone dings with a text, and I pause my video lesson. Carol needs help with Grandma again. Changing an adult’s diapers is grossest thing ever. I’m really starting to rethink my original idea of designing video games. It might not change the world, but at least I won’t have to smell poop on the daily.

I hurry down, and thankfully she isn’t making me change a diaper this time. We get Grandma into the wheelchair then walk her around outside. Signs of spring are all over—flowers are budding, birds are flitting about, and the air is getting warmer, not that we can toss our jackets or gloves aside just yet.

When we return, Carol has me put on fresh sheets and wash the old ones before we return Grandma to her bed. After that, I sit with Grandma and tell her about my studies. Carol said it’s important to talk with her and keep her engaged mentally even if it doesn’t seem like it makes a difference.

I hold her hand and look into her eyes as I speak. Her eyes seem watery today, and she blinks at key points when I’m talking. Is that a coincidence, or is she trying to communicate?

Her hand jolts in mine.

I look around to ask about that, but neither Jack nor Carol are in sight.

Did Grandma just squeeze my hand? Or was it my imagination? It had to have been. She can’t move. If she has control over any movement, it’s only her blinking.

Right?

Carol returns to the room. “How’s our patient?”

I decide to ignore the hand jolt. “She seems to like hearing about my studies.”

“Good.” Carol smiles. “Speaking of which, I’ll let you get back to those. Thanks for helping.”

“No problem.” I hurry upstairs and check on Kenzi. She’s napping again. Apparently pregnant women sleep all the time, no matter what time of day it is.

I’m glad she doesn’t need me right now. I’m pretty tired from helping with Grandma.

When I return to my room, I close my laptop and my textbooks. I’ll finish today’s studies later. I’ve gotten into the habit of night studying. That’s what happens when I can set my own schedule—I sleep in late and do everything else at unusual times. And it doesn’t matter as long as I keep up my grades.

So far, so good.

I check the time. If I start walking now, I’ll get there just in time.

After bundling up again, I make my way outside. It’s chillier than before because it’s already starting to get dark. I can’t wait for longer, warmer days.

My old school bus passes me. I definitely don’t miss those days, and it doesn’t seem like anyone misses me either. Only my closest friends have checked in on me after I didn’t show up for the new semester, and even then, I haven’t heard from them since telling them I’m now homeschooled.

Seems like it’s time for some new friends. At least I have my family, though I know teenagers need time with people their own age.

And that’s what I’m doing now. Just a few more blocks, and I’ll be there.

The school bell rings in the distance, and soon the elementary school comes into view. The parking lot is flooded with buses, cars, parents, and kids. By the time I reach the entrance, it’s already emptying out.

I find Luke in the gym—no surprise there. That’s his classroom.

His face lights up when he sees me. He gives me a hug and spins me around. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t wait another minute to see you.”

“Luckily I don’t have any meetings or anything. Want to get some ice cream?”

“Is that even a question?” I laugh.

He tosses me his keys. “I’ll meet you at my car in a few.”

While now it’s technically okay for us to be together—I’m no longer a student in the school district he’s working for, and we’re practically the same age—he still doesn’t want us spending much time together at the school, just to be safe. The only reason he’s even teaching at his age is because his homeschooling allowed him to graduate early and get a head start on his dream career of helping kids discover their athletic abilities at a young age to build their confidence before it has a chance of getting torn down.

By the time he gets to his car, I already have the heat roaring and my favorite music blasting.

Luke climbs into the driver’s seat and finally gives me a kiss. “How was your day?”

“It wasn’t bad.”

“Still leaning towards video game design?”

“More every day.”

We both laugh. He’s heard me complain at length about changing adult diapers.

He nudges me. “You could always work with elementary kids—then you’d be able to make a difference and you wouldn’t have to deal with diapers.”

“Plus, I could see a certain hot PE teacher every day. That doesn’t sound so bad.”

A little pink colors his cheeks. I love how easily he embarrasses.

He pulls out of the parking spot. “You sure you want ice cream? This car feels like a sauna. Maybe we should get coffee instead.”

“As long as I’m enjoying it with you, I don’t care what we get.”

My heart swells. I’ve finally beat the awful curse of my namesake. Love is no longer forbidden. We can spend as much time together as we want.

Everything has come together perfectly.

33

Regina

It’s been years since I’ve seen a sunset. We certainly weren’t afforded such a luxury in prison, and since I’ve returned home I haven’t been brought outside at this hour even once. Not that I can blame anyone given how frigid it is this time of year.

I square my shoulders and rub my hands together. This day has finally come.

It really is a shame I wasn’t able to burn down that monstrosity of a house.

The good news is I never have to lay eyes on it again. My days trapped in the Brannon house are finally over. I’m free of it after all these heartbreaking decades. The things done to me—and the things I was forced to do in return—will weigh on me for all of eternity.

I never wanted to become the person I ended up turning into. If I’d known what roads the Brannon curse would lead me down, I’d have run screaming from the man I fell in love with so many years earlier.

The only thing I have zero regrets about is my children. Despite what some of them might think, they are my pride and joy. Everything I did was for them, no matter what they believe. I love them with an intense fervor they will never understand. I’m glad they don’t have to experience the terrors I once did.

Killing my brother-in-law was the next best thing I did. The world is a much better place without him and his brother in it.

I’m glad to have them behind me. As much as I’d love nothing more than to burn down the mansion once and for all, I know the new generation of Brannons are doing better things with it. They may even be able to get rid of the terrible curses following that family that I got dragged into unwittingly.

Now it’s all behind me—quite literally. I will never look back, even though my children and grandchildren are there.

All I have is what’s in front of me. I’m only going to look ahead.

I’ve already spent far too many decades tangled in the webs of Brannon problems. Sadly, I’ve left that legacy for my children. But if anyone can undo generations of horrors, it’s them.

As for me, I’m finally free.

34

Kenzi

No matter how much I toss and turn, I can’t get to sleep. Not that I’m surprised, given how much I slept during the day. It might actually be a good thing that my schedule flipped upside-down. Everyone says babies sleep during the day and are awake at night. I’m already there.

I’ve tried counting sheep, listening to Graham’s rhythmic breathing, and even drinking warm milk. Nothing works, so I may as well get up. I don’t have any good reading, having finished Regina’s diary and not found another. She must’ve written more, and they have to be around here somewhere, but I’ve yet to locate any.

Then I remember the hidden video camera. I’ve been so tired and out of it recently, I haven’t checked the footage in a while. I got discouraged at first, after skimming hours and hours of nothing.

My mother didn’t so much as twitch a finger in the first two weeks of the camera being installed. The only movement was at the hands of others—Jack, Carol, and Ember. Even Ryker on occasion has helped with her. I suppose that’s the only way he can get to know his grandmother.

He should consider himself lucky that he never knew her in her prime.

Those of us who did have plenty of scars to show for it.

I slide out of bed, careful not to wake Graham. Though I’m pretty sure I could jump up and down while yelling into a bullhorn, and he still wouldn’t wake up. Some people have all the luck.

In the nursery, I settle into the gliding chair and pull up the app for the video camera. Not that I expect to find anything telling. I’m sure it’s more of the same—nothing.

Even if Regina had been getting up, I’m sure she knows better now. She was there the whole time I was installing the camera, probably only pretending to sleep. I’m not sure how that thought escaped me before. Actually, I do. Pregnancy brain.

I go back to the last part of the footage I watched and start from there. Once again, everything is dull and predictable. My mother is either truly paralyzed, or she’s extremely careful. But if she’s actually able-bodied, then how can she stand to lie down unmoving for so long?

It might be time to accept I’ve been barking up the wrong tree. Two doctors have diagnosed her as paralyzed, and even with a hidden camera I haven’t caught anything.

Wait a minute.

There’s movement in the middle of the night five days ago.

I squeeze the phone as if that’ll help.

It isn’t Regina.

It’s only me.

What am I doing? This doesn’t look familiar.

I don’t remember this.

And there’s something in my hands. Something small and with a dress and long hair.

I’m carrying the creepy doll into my father’s old office.

Only I never did that.

Yet there’s video proof. I can’t deny that.

It was me, but I don’t remember it.

My pulse races in my body as I try to make sense of it.

The me on the video looks right at the camera. Stares at it for a solid two minutes. Unmoving.

An icy chill runs down my back.

This is like watching a ghost.

A ghost of me.

The version of me on my phone’s screen finally stops staring at the camera and then sits the doll next to my mother. Then she—me—leaves the room.

Everything in the room remains the same for two full hours.

Until I return. I stare at the camera again before picking up the doll and leaving with it.

What the actual heck?

There’s no way any of that is possible. I couldn’t forget any of that. Not something that wild. Yet if someone else told me they saw that, I would deny it vehemently.

But there’s proof. I just watched it with my own two eyes. Nobody else knows about this camera. I didn’t even tell Graham about it yet. I never think to mention it when he’s awake, and since I spend so much time awake at night, we don’t see a lot of each other.

And apparently I spend even more time awake at night than I thought.

That would explain why I’m so tired all the time.

Have I been the one moving the doll around all this time? If so, how?

Sleepwalking.

I’ve been sleepwalking.

All this time? When would it have begun? Since moving back in this house?

Or since childhood?

Might that have been why my mother sent me away? But why wouldn’t she tell me? Sleepwalking is a lot better than telling me something was wrong with me. I know I’m not crazy, as she would’ve had me believe, but if I sleepwalk, it’s dangerous not to know. People with that condition can get themselves into some really dangerous situations.

I can’t really complain if all I do is move a doll around and stare into a camera—creepy as that is. I’m not sure sleepwalking explains all the mysteries of this house, but it does fit a lot of the pieces together. Especially with things moving around.

Unless that was a one-time thing.

I quickly go through the rest of the footage. Two nights ago I repeated the same things. Same doll, same basic timeframe.

Same staring into the camera.

This is some seriously spooky stuff—and it’s me.

I think that makes it even worse.

I’m just about to close the app when something else catches my attention.

Another frame of me walking into the office with the doll. Same clothes—definitely me.

This one was less than an hour ago.

Wasn’t I tossing and turning at that point?

Clearly not—unless this footage is lying to me. But that’s ridiculous. Obviously I fell asleep and got up, walked around, then returned to bed and woke up thinking I’d been awake in bed the whole time.

That sounds nuts. How am I even considering this?

Because what other choice do I have? I can’t deny the video evidence.

I sleepwalk. Apparently multiple times in a week.

But why wouldn’t the camera have caught that before?

Unless I was avoiding it then. Maybe I knew and then decided I didn’t care anymore.

What if I wanted my waking self to know what was really going on? That I’m the one moving the doll around. That I’m the one Ember hears walking around at night—that makes sense given it turns out she’s the one I’ve been hearing. Except she’s been fully awake.

I’m not sure I can take this. What am I supposed to do with myself now that I know I’ve been sleepwalking? I probably need to do something to ensure I can’t get up and hurt myself or someone else—especially the baby—but I don’t want to restrain myself. That could be dangerous too. After having lived through a house fire, I don’t want to risk being trapped for any reason.

This is all too much.

Except it could be worse…

I try to shove that thought from my mind, but can’t. This house is famous for being haunted.

What if I’m not the one in control of myself when I walk around at night? What if I’m not actually sleepwalking but am being used by a long-gone Brannon?

Goose bumps appear on my arm.

No. I sleepwalk. That’s the obvious explanation.

I get up from the sliding chair and head downstairs. What I need is another glass of warm milk.

When I reach the spiral staircase, I skid to a stop. My breath catches in my throat.

The doll is leaning against the railing.

Because I put it there. Not because there are ghosts, and definitely not because a ghost is possessing me. I sleepwalk. Something I should talk to my doctor about. Tomorrow.

I leave the doll where it is for once and make my way down the stairs, clinging to the railing. I imagine ghosts swirling around above me. Obviously that’s not real. It’s all in my mind—and considering how little sleep I’ve been getting lately, it makes sense that my mind would conjure up such things.

At the bottom of the steps, I close my eyes and take deep breaths. Ghosts aren’t real. I know that.

In the kitchen, I put some milk on the stove to simmer then head to my father’s office to check on my mother. I owe her an apology for doubting her condition. She can’t move, and I’ve been sleepwalking.

In the room, I keep my gaze as far from the camera as possible. Take a deep breath, walk over to the bed.

My mother doesn’t move. She’s staring at the ceiling.

I take her hand, which is unusually chilly. “I’m sorry I doubted you. It came from a place of fear, but after learning the truth—both from Dr. Wellington and your diary—I know there isn’t anything to be scared of. Not anymore, at least. Hopefully we can make peace with each other now. I think that would be good for us both.”

She didn’t blink once.

“Mother?” I wave my hand in front of her eyes.

Nothing.

I let go of her hand and feel her forehead.

Just as cool as her hand. Too cold for life.

She’s gone.

My mother is actually dead.

I stare in disbelief for a moment, then I close her eyes.

The smell of burning milk wafts in. I must’ve been staring longer than I thought.

“Jack!” I yell. “Carol!”

When nobody comes, I pound on their door.

They appear, both bleary-eyed.

“What’s the matter?” Carol blinks a few times.

“She’s dead. Regina’s gone.”

They rush over to the bed.

I hurry down the hall to scrub the pot and turn off the burner. Before long, vehicles pull up to the curb outside. No sirens, no lights. They aren’t needed.

There’s no saving my mother.

As I let the officers inside, I realize I should wake Graham and Ember. They need to know what’s going on.

Before the police place her in the body bag, they ask if we want to say goodbye.

I surprise myself by answering first. When I hold Regina’s cold hand for the last time, I study her wrinkled face before whispering in her ear. “While I’m certainly relieved that you’re gone, I do hope you’ve found the peace you’ve been searching for all these years. You’re finally free of the Brannon family curses you hated so much.”

Unfortunately, it appears those curses may have now been passed on to me.

ABOUT STACY CLAFLIN

Stacy Claflin is a USA Today bestselling thriller author who has published more than 100 novels, including Girl in Trouble and The Perfect Death. She has always been curious about the human mind, and in her quest to learn more, she earned a degree in Psychology. Her favorite course was Abnormal Behavior, which has been useful in writing fiction.

Her love for thrillers goes back to her early childhood when she fell in love with Unsolved Mysteries and America’s Most Wanted. When Stacy was five, she got mad at a babysitter who wouldn’t let her watch the evening news. These days, she spends her free time listening to true crime podcasts or watching documentaries on the subject.

She has been telling stories for as long as she can remember, and as child would often get into trouble for trying to convince friends her wild tales were true. Now she puts her creativity to better use by writing page-turning stories that leave readers begging for more.

Stacy occasionally dabbles in other genres, so as you peruse her library of works, you’ll find some romance and paranormal tales, all with strong suspense elements.

For more information:

stacyclaflin.com/about

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Connecting independent readers to independent writers.

Did you love Drowning Silence? Then you should read Girl in Trouble by Stacy Claflin!

USA Today Bestselling Author

★★★★★ "Loved the constant adrenaline rush as eponymous Alex Mercer struggles to save his kidnapped tween Ariana from a crazed killer."

Series Complete: Binge read today!

He gave up his daughter years ago, but now he'll risk his life to save hers.

Alex Mercer is no stranger to kidnappings. The emotional scars still run deep from his sister's disappearance years earlier. His daughter Ariana remains safe long after her adoption, and he cherishes the few times a year he gets to see her. The joy is palpable when he takes her on their first one-on-one outing. At least until he pauses to answer a text and Ariana disappears…

Wracked with guilt and determined to find answers, Alex teams up with an unlikely ally at the police department. As the clues reveal a pattern of missing girls, the kidnapping case becomes a race against time to save Ariana. What cost is Alex willing to pay to keep his daughter alive?

Girl in Trouble is the first book in a series of thrilling stand-alone novels spun off from the USA Today bestselling Gone Trilogy. If you like heart-pounding suspense, page-turning action, and characters you'll never forget, then you'll love Stacy Claflin's engrossing series.

Read Girl in Trouble today!

THE COMPLETE ALEX MERCER SERIES:Girl in TroubleTurn Back TimeLittle LiesAgainst All OddsDon't Forget MeTainted LoveTake On MeDanger ZoneLady in RedWhite WeddingCareless WhisperNever Surrender

SIDE STORIES:The Gone TrilogyNo ReturnDean's List

OTHER CLAFLIN THRILLERS:Lies Never SleepDex

ROMANTIC SUSPENSE:When Tomorrow Starts Without MeThe Only Things You Can TakeWhen You Start to Miss Me

Read more at Stacy Claflin’s site.

Also by Stacy Claflin

An Alex Mercer Thriller

Girl in Trouble

Turn Back Time

Little Lies

Against All Odds

Don't Forget me

Tainted Love

Take On Me

Danger Zone

Lady in Red

White Wedding

Careless Whisper

Never Surrender

Ariana Jones

Watch Your Back

Don't Look Now

Without a Trace

Never Letting Go

Lie in Wait

No Way Out

Bayside Hunters

Bayside Opposites

Brannon House

The Perfect Death

Family Secrets

The Darkest Garden

Shattered Pieces

Grave Memories

Drowning Silence

Curse of the Moon

Lost Wolf

Chosen Wolf

Hunted Wolf

Broken Wolf

Cursed Wolf

Secret Jaguar

Curse of the Moon Box Set

Dark Sea Academy

Mermaid's Song

Mermaid's Heart

Mermaid's Wish

The Dark Sea Academy: The Complete Trilogy

Flawed Souls Romantic Suspense

When Tomorrow Starts Without Me

The Only Things You Can Take

When You Start to Miss Me

Gone

Gone

Held

Over

No Return

The Gone Trilogy

Dean's List

Indigo Bay Second Chance Romances

Sweet Complications

Indigo Bay Sweet Romance Series

Sweet Dreams

Sweet Reunion

Recluse Island

The Hotel's Secret

The Father's Secret

The Corpse's Secret

The Hunters

Seaside Surprises

Seaside Heartbeats

Seaside Dances

Seaside Kisses

Seaside Christmas

Bayside Wishes

Bayside Evenings

Bayside Promises

Bayside Destinies

Bayside Mistletoe

Bayside Dreams

The Hunters: A Collection

A Hunters Bundle

The Transformed

Deception

Betrayal

Forgotten

Ascension

Duplicity

Sacrifice

Destroyed

Transcend

Entangled

Dauntless

Obscured

Partition

Fallen (The Transformed Prequel)

Silent Bite: A Transformed Christmas

Hidden Intentions

Saved by a Vampire

Sweet Desire

Valhalla's Curse

Renegade Valkyrie

Pursued Valkyrie

Silenced Valkyrie

Vengeful Valkyrie

Unleashed Valkyrie

Standalone

The Transformed Series - Four Books

The Transformed Box Set

Alex Mercer Thrillers Box Set 1-3

Gone Saga Standalones

Alex Mercer Thrillers Box Set: Books 4-6

Alex Mercer Thrillers Box Set: Books 7-9

Deadly Secrets and Lies

Don't Trust Her

Watch for more at Stacy Claflin’s site.