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I cock a brow at her cursing because in the three years I’ve come to know little Hannah Gaines, she’s never been anything but prim and proper. “Use the facial recognition.”
She holds the phone up and it must be just alike enough to allow her in, because with a click, the phone opens.
“Seventy-five missed calls and one hundred and three texts,” Hannah grimaces. “Who would want to talk to someone that much?”
“Who would want to talk to your sister that much?”
She nods cynically. “I guess you’re not wrong.”
“That might be the first time you’ve agreed with me,” I point out.
“Well, don’t get used to it.”
She clicks on the calls first.Parker.Parker.Parker. Then, after his sentencing,Prison,Prison,Prison.
Something doesn’t sit right.
“When was the last time you spoke to your sister?”
Hannah shrugs. “A year ago. Maybe a little more. She wouldn’t return my calls or texts.”
“Looks like you found your reason.”
“There are a lot of calls to this number,” Hannah grumbles. “It’s not saved. Wait,” she jumps, eyes going wide. “There was a call this evening . . . but it was made from this phone.”
The air in the kitchen is suddenly thick in the shared silence between us.
Okay, now shit’s getting really fucking weird.
“What time?”
“Just after nine . . . Mason, we got there at nine.”
I scrub a hand over my face, willing this shit to start making sense. I’m almost thirty, and in all my life, I’ve never liked fucking puzzles. The mind games, the twists and clues you have to pick up on to put it all together. It’s bullshit.
“Someone was in the house,” Hannah whispers, looking around the room as if they might jump out from her pantry at any moment. “Do you thinktheytripped the alarm?”
“I think it’s entirely possible.”
She lets out a shaky breath, her face a shade paler.
“You sure you can handle this, little doe?”
Her eyes narrow and for a moment, I’m ready for her to snap at me, but the look fades, replaced by something deeper. A fear.
I fucking hate it.
“I have to,” she shrugs, eyes sad. “No one else is going to.”
“Have you ever thought about what you could find out?”
“Can’t really think about it if I don’t know what it’ll be.”
Jesus Christ. Ever the optimist.
“And if you stumble upon something you don’t want to know?”
“Then . . . I guess I’ll have to accept it.”
