Don't Make a Sound: A Sawyer Brooks Thriller

by T. R. Ragan

  There was nothing. The interior of her car was as clean as the day she drove it off the car lot. She replayed what had happened one more time, checking off boxes, making sure she hadn’t missed anything.

  After The Crew had finished digging, Psycho had stripped Otto Radley bare, and they had rolled him into his grave and covered him with dirt. They’d washed the shovels, scrubbed the floors, and removed any sign that anyone had ever set foot inside the warehouse. Next, they had gathered outside in a semicircle, stripped down, and washed their hair and bodies, using soap and water Lily had brought for that purpose.

  Everything would be okay. Her hands were no longer trembling.

  Harper was back, and she was ready.

  She merged back onto the road. It was 3:15 p.m. Tuesday. The last time she’d seen Aria was Sunday at the deli. She pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition.

  Harper didn’t make it far before Aria opened the door to her garage studio. Hands on hips. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “With my critique group. We stayed at one of the ladies’ houses and worked day and night.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s the truth,” Harper said.

  “Let me see your book. You know, all the pages you wrote, all that hard work.”

  “It’s private.”

  “Why do you look like you’ve been hiking through the woods?”

  “I drank too much. Way too much, ended up jumping in Christine’s pool. I’m embarrassed enough. Leave it alone.”

  Aria crossed her arms.

  “What?”

  “I don’t believe you. You would never drink while pregnant.”

  Harper said nothing.

  “Is whatever you’re hiding worth lying about?” Aria shook her head sadly. “All you had to do was call or text so I would know you were alive.”

  Struggling to find her voice, Harper said, “I’m sorry.”

  Aria huffed and disappeared back inside her place. She left the door open. Harper peeked inside, saw her sister toss something into a suitcase lying on the couch.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  Harper waited, and when Aria didn’t expand on what she was up to, Harper asked, “Where are you going?”

  “Why should I tell you? You and Sawyer can’t even answer your phones. I don’t know why I bother caring about either of you. It’s stupid. I’m going to get an ulcer from worrying before I hit thirty-five.”

  Harper’s stomach turned. “Sawyer’s not answering her phone?”

  “Ahh,” Aria said with a wag of her finger. “It’s not fun worrying about someone you care about, is it?”

  Harper exhaled. “I said I was sorry, and I meant it.”

  Aria looked at Harper. Her shoulders dropped. “I’m glad you’re okay. But Sawyer promised me she would check in every day. I haven’t talked to her since Sunday morning before I saw you at the deli. It’s been forty-eight hours, and when I call, I’m taken directly to her voice mail. I’m going to River Rock.”

  “Did you call Joyce or Dennis?”

  “Yes. I called the house phone too. No answer.” Aria shoved a few more items into her suitcase before she zipped it up and rolled it closer to the door. She shouldered her purse and said, “The cat is hiding under my bed. He’ll be fine until I get back. I left plenty of food and water for the bird and the cat. I’ll call you when I get there.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Yeah, I will. I’m the dependable sister.”

  Harper thought about Sawyer. Her little sister was in trouble. She’d warned Sawyer not to return to River Rock, but she’d been too stubborn to listen.

  The thought of seeing Joyce and Dennis sent chills up Harper’s spine. But in her mind, she had no choice but to go with Aria. And this time, she wouldn’t leave without Sawyer.

  “I’m going with you,” Harper said. “Give me five minutes to change my clothes and brush my teeth.”

  “You might as well take a shower too. You smell. But I’m not waiting long. I’m done waiting.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Sawyer woke to the sound of wood scraping against wood above her head. Mom or Dad was at it again. Moving furniture while their youngest daughter was held captive in the crawl space below the floors?

  It had taken her a while, possibly hours, to make her way to the vents, only to find that they had been sealed off with cement. She’d had to crawl with her belly pressed into dirt. It was a tight squeeze and had required a lot of digging and moving moldy clods of dirt to get there. Once she was back where she started, she’d pounded on the door and screamed at the top of her lungs, begging for Mom to let her out.

  It was no use.

  At some point she’d fallen asleep from exhaustion. Her throat was still raw from yelling.

  Sawyer still had enough wits about her to know she’d been inside the crawl space for at least twenty-four hours. She reached out and touched the door. Her knuckles were red and sore from knocking on the door and walls. She needed to find a loose board or a piece of pipe, anything hard enough to bang against the ceiling of the crawl space. Maybe then her dad would hear the noise and come to the basement to investigate. She was hungry and thirsty.

  Instead of following the straight line she’d made getting to the vent, she veered to her right, trying not to think about the critters who’d made this their home as she dug her fingers into the clumps of dirt and cement.

  As she moved along, inch by inch, making sure to stay close to the outside wall, she wondered if Mom would give in and let her out. Even as the thought came to mind, she knew it was wishful thinking on her part. Mom had protected Dad all these years. There was no way she would free Sawyer and give her a chance to go to the police.

  The tips of Sawyer’s fingers brushed against something hard. She began digging around the object before she found another one. It felt like two long, thin wooden or plastic poles.

  Blindly, she continued to feel around, moving clumps of dirt until her fingers touched something round.

  She was on her stomach, hardly enough room to lift her chin more than a few inches off the ground, but she took her time, digging with her fingers until the object came loose. There were two holes. It took another second or two for her to realize it was a skull.

  She dropped it and pushed her hands against the ground, trying to get away. Her head hit a wood beam. Shit! Get ahold of yourself!

  She held still for a moment, breathing, trying to collect herself. Her mom’s words came to mind: I killed for you.

  What was going on?

  Had Mom killed Peggy Myers and Avery James? If so, their bodies had been found. But then who did these bones—

  Sawyer’s stomach turned. Rebecca—her best friend. The bones were small. Sawyer had graduated with degrees in criminal justice and biology. She knew enough about the human skeleton to know that these belonged to someone close to the size Rebecca was when she’d disappeared.

  All this time, she’d been buried under the house?

  Her skin tingled. Sawyer had never come here after her friend disappeared. Why would she? Her head fell forward in defeat. Images of Rebecca trapped down here. Had Rebecca been alive when she was locked inside?

  When were the vents sealed? Mom or Dad could have done that while she was at school. She’d been so distraught after her friend disappeared, she’d never noticed. Even if she had, she probably wouldn’t have thought much about it.

  It sickened her to think she might have been able to help. If only I had thought to look. I might have been able to save you.

  A doorbell sounded.

  Sawyer didn’t make a sound. She hardly breathed.

  The sounds of her mom’s footfalls as she walked to the front entry were directly above her head, which meant Sawyer had to be close enough to the front door that somebody might hear her if she could make enough noise.

  Think, Sawyer. Think.

  The door opened.
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  She heard voices.

  She knew that voice. It used to be much deeper. It was Melanie.

  “Melanie,” she cried out in a pathetic squeak of a voice. This might be her only chance to let someone know she was here. She reached for Rebecca, grabbed the thickest bone, the femur, and used it to bang against the ceiling.

  The chattering above stopped.

  “Sawyer, is that you?”

  Melanie was calling her name! She knew something wasn’t right, and she’d come looking for her.

  Sawyer banged against the ceiling again. Three times.

  “Where are you?” Melanie shouted.

  “Basement,” Sawyer yelled as loud as possible, but her cry for help was drowned out by a crash and then a heavy thump as something collided with the ground.

  Sawyer knocked on the ceiling.

  Nothing.

  No. No. No.

  Next, she heard a swishing sound and the occasional creak of the floor as something was being dragged away.

  Melanie.

  Had Mom killed her?

  There was a thickness in her throat as guilt and regret for befriending Melanie and getting her into this mess seeped into her bones. If Melanie were okay, she would be calling her name, but all was quiet.

  The bone was still clutched within her grasp as she let her head fall to the ground. Without food or water, she had no idea how much longer she would last.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Harper opened her eyes and straightened in the passenger seat. Her neck ached from the position she’d slept in for the past few hours. It was dark outside. She shivered as they drove past the WELCOME TO RIVER ROCK sign, well lit by a streetlight. “What if Joyce and Dennis aren’t home?” Harper asked.

  Aria didn’t answer her. She had insisted on driving. For the first two hours of their ride, she had grilled Harper about her make-believe book. Harper’s lie was so far-fetched she’d given up answering Aria’s questions and simply fallen asleep, leaving Aria alone to stew in her frustrations.

  Harper looked at her sister. “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “You promised we would never lie to one another. What’s going to happen if I tell Nate that you were always out while he was away and that you didn’t come home last night?”

  “Please don’t.”

  Silence.

  “Can we focus on Sawyer for now?” Harper asked.

  “Sure,” Aria said. “And to answer your question, if Mom and Dad aren’t home, I’m going to break into the house and have a look around.”

  “How do you intend to do that?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure that out when I get there.”

  “Did you try ringing Sawyer’s cell again?”

  “Yep. Dozens of times. This isn’t good. She never should have gone to Gramma’s funeral.”

  “It’s my fault,” Harper said.

  “Everything that happens to us isn’t your fault just because you’re the oldest.”

  Harper had never wanted her sisters to know the truth, but she couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. “There are things you and Sawyer don’t know about me. In fact, I’ve made an appointment with a therapist.”

  “Jesus. It’s about time. Sawyer and I have always known that you didn’t escape River Rock unscathed. We figured Uncle Theo must have gotten to you too. You can’t hold that shit in, Harper. It eats away at you and makes you crazy.”

  “It wasn’t Uncle Theo,” Harper said.

  “Who, then?”

  There was a long pause before she finally said it. “Dennis.” Naming her father as her sexual abuser, saying it out loud, didn’t change anything. Her body wanted to shut down. But she was stronger than that. She’d let that man take control of her body for too long. She wouldn’t collapse now. Not ever. She wouldn’t give him the power.

  “Dad? What are you saying?”

  “I’m telling you that he used to come into my room at night,” Harper said. She swallowed. She’d never told anyone what had happened before. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t. It was as if the abuse was trapped, stuck deep down inside her. Her husband knew something had happened, and he knew she’d been traumatized, but even he didn’t know it was her father who had abused her.

  Strangely, killing a man had freed something inside her. She wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. She wasn’t sure any therapist could get it all out of her, let alone help her in any meaningful way. But killing a man had freed her, and she knew it was time to at least try to rid herself of the bile before she burst.

  “Go on,” Aria said as she followed the navigator’s instructions on how to get to the house where they were raised. “What did he do to you?”

  “He raped me,” Harper said. “I was six the first time he touched me.”

  Aria growled. “I want to kill him.”

  “I did too, but I couldn’t do it. I think I was thirteen when he began to visit on a regular basis. That’s when I made a deal with him. He could have me. I wouldn’t fight him. But if he dared touch you or Sawyer, I would make sure everyone in River Rock knew what he’d done.”

  There were few cars on the road. Aria pulled to the side, put the car in park, and looked at Harper. Aria simply sat there, shaking her head, her eyes filled with tears. “No wonder you’re so fucked up.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Oh, Harper.” Aria fell across the middle divider and threw her arms awkwardly around her.

  They sat there for a few minutes, Harper’s head resting against Aria’s. Their arms twisted around each other.

  After they moved away from each other, Aria pushed her hair out of her eyes. “This is a lot to take in. I am so sorry.”

  “Don’t,” Harper said. This was even harder to talk about than she thought it would be. An ounce of relief mixed with pounds of angst. “I don’t know how to say this, but I don’t think I can stand the thought of you feeling sorry for me.”

  “That’s okay,” Aria said. “I get it. I also understand why you always called him by his first name.” Aria looked deep in thought before she asked, “Was there a reason you called Mom by her first name, or was it guilt by association?”

  “She knew,” Harper said. “I saw her watching.”

  “Son of a bitch. Fucking cunt and whore.”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  Aria took the car out of park and merged onto the road, and Harper was thankful to be moving on. Opening up like that was making it difficult for her to breathe. She used a tissue to wipe at her eyes.

  Two minutes later, they passed the driveway, where they both took note of Sawyer’s car. Not a good sign. Aria drove ahead, and once they were far enough away from the house, they both climbed out.

  “Wait five minutes before you approach the house and knock on the door,” Aria instructed. “I’m going to head up the hill and make my way to the cottage where Sawyer told me she was staying.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Harper asked.

  “If Mom or Dad are home and they let you inside, play it cool. Tell them you’re older and wiser now, and you wanted to talk to them. Make up something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Tell her about the book you’re writing.”

  “Very funny.”

  “What?” Aria sighed. “Talk about anything that comes to mind, but keep her occupied long enough for me to get to the cottage.”

  Aria started to walk away. She stopped, turned back, and said, “Do you have a weapon? Anything to protect yourself with?”

  Harper pulled a stun gun from one pocket and pepper spray from the other.

  “Nice.”

  “What about you?” Harper asked.

  “I’ve got it covered. See you soon.”

  “Be careful,” Harper said.

  “You too.”

  Aria made sure her gun was snug in her waistband. She’d bought the gun when she’d turned eighteen. Keeping low, she crept through the woodsy area of the property.r />
  The second Harper was out of sight, Aria sucked in air and fell to her knees. She looked up to the sky and inwardly screamed. How was it possible she never knew Dad was sneaking into Harper’s room?

  And Mom knew?

  Uncle Theo wasn’t the only monster in the family, it seemed. The whole thing felt surreal, and yet everything about her sister suddenly made sense. She’d never understood why Harper acted out in disturbing ways. Before they escaped River Rock, Harper had taken everything she did right to the edge of the cliff. Too much partying, drinking, and drugs. Too much dancing and flirting.

  It all made sense now. Everything Harper had done was her attempt at escaping. Aria shivered at the thought of Sawyer being left alone with Mom, Dad, and Uncle Theo for all those years.

  And now here they were, all three of them, back in River Rock.

  Full circle.

  Her fingers rolled into tight fists.

  She forced herself to breathe. Pull yourself together. Pushing to her feet, Aria kept her focus on Sawyer. Their little sister was in trouble and needed them. Maybe now more than ever.

  Aria looked around and took note of the path up the hill that would lead her to the side yard. Some of the trees had filled in, and the fence was new, but for the most part, everything looked as she remembered.

  The leaves crunched beneath her feet as she hiked upward. A minute later she was at the gate. Standing on tiptoe, she reached over, relieved when her fingers brushed across the old familiar wire. She pulled on it. The wire lifted the metal fastener on the other side, and she was able to push the gate open and enter the backyard. She could see the cottage from where she stood. There were no lights on inside. To her right she saw the main house and the side door leading into the kitchen, where a dim light had been left on. There were also two bedroom lights on.

  She walked quietly around to the back of the cottage where she could peer through the window, her hands cupped around her eyes and her nose pressed close to the glass. The moonlight put off enough light for her to see that nobody was inside. The bed was neatly made. No sign of Sawyer’s things. As she crept toward the door leading into the kitchen, she wondered whether or not Harper had made her way inside the house.