But on the hardwood floor, staring up at me, was a photo. I crouched closer until I was kneeling on the floor, photo in hand. It was an image, blown up and slightly blurry, only part of the scene fitting on the standard-size glossy photo paper. But I could tell that it was a picture of a hand clutched around an item. A still frame from a camera.
From the angle, only one thing was clearly visible—something small and shiny, protruding from the bottom of the closed fist. A key chain in the shape of a dog bone. Metallic, I knew. Something that got hot in the sun, cold in the winter.
A gift from the Truetts when Ruby was a teenager starting a dog-walking business. It had once been kept in our entryway drawer but had long since disappeared.
The police had been looking for this. The front door of the Truett home had been unlocked that morning. As if someone had snuck inside with a key. They never found it.
But someone else had seen this. Had captured it on camera and kept the proof for themselves.
Until now.
CHAPTER 8
FOOTSTEPS TRAIPSED UP THE front porch stairs—too heavy to be Ruby’s—and the image of the key chain trembled in my hand. I scrambled from my spot on the floor and flipped on the porch light in a rush before throwing the front door open. Mac stood there, mouth agape, hands held up in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, even as I was sliding the photo and note into the back pocket of my shorts.
“You said she was gone,” he said with half a smile. “We haven’t gotten a chance to talk.” He slipped inside, stepping around me and scanning the open front area.
I closed the door behind him, realizing he was planning to stay. “Well, she’s not here right this second. But she’ll be back. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be on watch?”
He paused to look at me from the corner of his eye. “She’s not here, Harper. What the hell do you think I’m watching for? Nothing’s gonna happen right now, you know that.”
It wasn’t Ruby I was worried about now. It was the knife she kept under her mattress for protection. And the note and photo of missing evidence that had been wedged into my door while I was at the pool meeting with everyone else.
My mind went straight to Chase. I tried to remember who had left before I had. Who had arrived after. Who would’ve had the chance to leave this here without me noticing.
But then Mac’s arm was at my waist, and he was guiding me toward my own kitchen. “Come on, you look like you could use a drink,” he said. All of us in Hollow’s Edge moved around each other’s homes with ease, each model so familiar that you felt at home even when you weren’t.
I felt my shoulders relaxing. I’d been running on high alert since Ruby’s return, feeling like I was two steps behind, trying to keep everything under control. I needed to relax. Make sound decisions. Think things through.
There was something contagious in Mac’s demeanor—something I lacked on my own—an ability to live in the moment, never looking too far ahead or too far back.
Once we were in the kitchen, Mac stepped to the side of the fridge, deferring to me, which I had come to appreciate as part of his allure. I opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, held one to the back of my neck for a moment while handing him the other.
“You all right there, kid?” he asked, twisting the top off his beer, tossing the cap on the kitchen table.
“Yeah, fine,” I said. “You scared me.”
“Everyone’s so jumpy right now. She’s just a person. One person. I asked Charlotte, you really think she’d do anything now that she’s out?” He shook his head, leaned against the counter beside me, waiting for me to take a drink. He held his bottle out until I clanked mine against his.
I knew exactly how this would go, and there was a comfort in the simplicity, in seeing the steps laid out before me, predictable and dependable. It had been much the same the first time.
He’d come over after Ruby’s trial, looking lost, like he couldn’t believe what had happened and didn’t know what had brought him to my door, except that maybe I was someone who might understand. I was someone who had seen the other side of Ruby, who was willing to speak in her defense. That day, like now, Mac kept staring deep into the heart of the house, like it was all some trick and Ruby would arrive from around the corner of the living room at any moment. I’d offered him a beer then. She called me, he’d said, his voice cracking with emotion. It was an automated message, a call from… He’d let the thought trail.