I took the bag into the house, stuffed Kelsey’s body inside, along with some of her clothing, hoping to make it look like she went on a trip. I stripped the bed, I couldn’t leave my DNA here, and tossed them in the bag too. Next I found the linen closet, put fresh sheets on the bed, and finally wiped any surfaces I’d touched with a packet of Clorox wipes found on the kitchen counter.
I grabbed Kelsey’s cell phone, typed a quick message to the boyfriend and her mom that she was going on a girls’ trip to Vegas, then wiped the phone too. I hauled the duffel bag out to the garage, popped the trunk, put her body inside and slammed it shut.
Had it really only been an hour since I’d first pulled into the garage? How was that possible? Kelsey’s phone lit up with two incoming texts.
Have fun! Be safe. I love you.
That was from her mom.
Okay, call me later.
That was from her boyfriend.
I sighed, pressed the button to open the garage door and backed out of the driveway.
I drove out of the neighborhood, headed home to Santa Monica. On a lonely stretch of highway, I pulled off to the side of the road, threw Kelsey’s phone on the ground and drove over it several times. Finally, leaving it cracked, broken, and dead.
Just as I had done to Kelsey.
I arrived at Grandmother’s house shortly after nine p.m. Jim Bob lived here now since Grandmother died a few months ago and left the house to us. I’d called him on my drive and explained the situation.
He said he had a plan.
I wouldn’t go to jail.
I thought about what he told me last month. His idea of building the group, the family, he had already started in the Valley. Taking it to another level with Grandmother’s house as the headquarters. Listening Lark, he called it. It sounded interesting and especially now after all that had happened. I planned to drop out of Berkeley. I couldn’t continue to live there after what happened.
I smelled smoke when I arrived at Grandmother’s house. I walked around to the backyard. A large bonfire blazed in the yard. Jim Bob sat in a yellow lawn chair smoking a cigar.
“Hey,” I said.
He rose from his chair. “Hey, David, let’s get this done.”
We went to the car, retrieved the duffel bag containing Kelsey’s body and tossed it into the burning flames.
“Thanks for helping me, Jim Bob,” I said as I watched the flames.
Jim Bob took a long drag from his cigar, watching me. “Of course, we’re family.”
“So, this Listening Lark idea, I think I’m interested,” I said, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice. “I’m dropping out of college.”
He nodded. “Good idea to lay low for a while. We’ll give you a new name too. I think I’ll give all members a new name since Listening Lark is a new beginning.”
I nod. “So what should it be?”
Jim Bob paused for a moment. “How about Dream? You’ve always been a dreamer.”
My laugh sounded hollow to my ears, but I pasted a smile onto my face. “Dream. I like it.”
“Oh, and did I tell you our mantra? It’s perfect for you.”
“What is it?”
Jim Bob grinned. “We live in the here and now.”
*
Did you race through this tense and explosive story? If you want more gripping domestic thrillers from Sally, check out The Secrets Next Door. A new neighbor exposes terrible secrets from the past, and sets off a deadly chain of events…
Get it here, or read on for an exclusive extract!
THE SECRETS NEXT DOOR
How well do you know your neighbors?
PROLOGUE
Barely any moonlight is visible on the chilly, late autumn night. The cold reaches its icy fingers around me as I stumble to the water’s edge. Ripples dance through the once calm water, a frosty gale breaking the otherwise still surroundings. A few minutes pass and the melody concludes. Fear constricts my throat as I am forced along. Nobody hears my screams in this darkness.
Dry scattered leaves litter the ground, some smashed into it: the result of heavy footsteps in the soft earth.
Hands press into my arms, strong and unyielding, pushing me into the dark, cold water. My heart races, thundering inside my chest. I don’t want to die here. A scream escapes me, and another, as I struggle with my assailant. The long, bright red ribbon in my hair falls, landing on the surface of the water. I’m pushed into its inky darkness, my line of sight on the ribbon absorbing the water around it.
Hands shove me under the water. I fight, clawing at my attacker, but I’m no match for their strength. My head pops above the water for a moment. I gasp, air filling my lungs for the last time, then I’m pushed down again, and again, by heavy hands, water replacing the air. Help me! I scream again, but, again, nobody hears my cry. I weaken; my head hangs down.
Moonlight trickles downward, illuminating the dark water for a moment. The last image I see is the red and white pleated skirt of the cheerleader costume I’m wearing. My mind blackens and my body sinks into its watery grave.
1TALIA
I place the last group of brightly colored metallic blue and green balloons at the edge of the already decorated table, only a few inches away from the lavish dinosaur themed birthday cake, one that gave me so much joy decorating. I adjust the streamers around the edge of the table and move the cupcakes, with miniature dinosaur eggs on top, in a semi-circle around the cake, the main attraction, of course. Only the best for my nephew’s sixth birthday party.
“Talia, we’re going to need more chairs out here. Should I send Grant to get more from our house?”
I turn, facing my twin sister, Tabitha. Her hands press into each side of her hips on the white Lilly Pulitzer dress that hangs on her toned frame, and an exasperated expression covers her face. Pretty much how she always looks at me.
“Probably,” I say. “I thought we would have enough. How many people did you invite?”
“Well, I did invite a few more than the original guest list. I guess I was thinking we were having the party in my backyard, rather than yours, which is obviously much smaller. I hope we aren’t too cramped.” Tabitha purses her lips together.
I roll my eyes. The lack of lawn chairs is such a dire emergency. Tabitha always exaggerates everything. And, of course, nothing of mine could ever compare to what she has. Even though I graciously agreed to host her son, Cole’s, birthday party, for some reason she acts as if she is doing me a favor. Never mind that her backyard has been under construction for several weeks. Tabitha and her husband, Grant, are putting in their backyard oasis—her words. In-ground pool, hot tub, tiki bar, new patio, firepit area, the works. Only the best for Tabitha. She could have easily rented a room at the country club for the party. But I don’t mind. I am happy to have Cole’s party at my house. I would, however, at least like a thank you.
“Obviously,” I say, biting back the words I really want to say.
“And where is the wine station?” Tabitha asks, running a hand through her thick, honey-blonde hair. Thicker than mine. Shinier, too. “The PTA ladies need their wine, especially Nancy.”
“The wine is in the kitchen. I thought that made more sense since it is a child’s party,” I reply.
“Yes, I guess that makes sense.” She nods. “I’m going to grab a glass before I get Grant to dig more chairs out of our garage.”
