Page 33 of Buried in the Woods Below

I grab a Nancy Drew book from the bookshelf. “We could read a story together.”

Emma shakes her head. Not interested.

I shuffle to the desk and pick up a crayon. “We could do some color—” Before I can finish my sentence, I spot what’s next to the crayons.

A plate of grapes.

My mind flashes to Laelynn’s warning about feeding the dog grapes.

A tremor runs through my hands. Is this why the girls were so unsurprised by their mother’s scream? I take a cautious step toward them, uncertain how to proceed.

“Girls, did you feed Heathcliff grapes last night?”

Emma stops cutting the doll’s hair. Sunlight reflects off the scissor blades. She looks up at me, green eyes wide as can be, her eyebrows waved. “No, why?”

I kneel. “You’re sure? If you did, it’s okay. I won’t be mad.”

Penelope raises her chin and recites her words like a declaration. “Mommy told us that grapes are very bad for Heathcliff.”

I open my mouth to press further, but a movement in the doorway interrupts me. It’s Olivia. The red around her eyes tells me she’s heard about Heathcliff. She motions for me to come outside the room and puts her finger to her lips.

“Girls, I’ll be back in a second. You two stay here, okay?”

“Okay,” they chime back, barely acknowledging me.

I step into the hallway, close the door, and hug Olivia. She grips me tight, and a tear runs down her cheek onto mine.

“I’m so sorry, Liv.”

“Thanks.” She pulls back, wipes the tear from her eye, and sniffles. “It just makes no sense. He was as healthy as a horse.”

“I know. He was scratching at my door last night.” I consider mentioning the grapes but decide against it. “It has to be something he ate, doesn’t it?”

Olivia’s face hardens, and she leans so close I can smell her bubble-gum breath. “I told you there was something wrong with this place. I bet it was that fucking psycho, Russ Neuman. I bet he poisoned him.”

“Do you really think he would do that?” As I say it, I flash back to Marjorie Neuman’s obituary. To the crunching sounds outside my door last night.

“You tell me. You saw that note.”

I think of the note. Of Vivek eyeing me at Cov. Are we sure Russ left that note?

“Yeah, maybe he could. Is there anything I can do?”

She pulls her hair back with both hands, her bottom lip quivering. “Not right now.” She sniffs and stiffens her jaw as if willing herself not to cry. “Honestly, I think the best thing would be for you to take a walk. Let us deal with it, talk to the girls, etcetera.”

“Really? I don’t want to abandon you guys when you’re grieving.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t do any good for you to wallow with us. I’ll take care of the girls. We don’t need to bring you into the family drama any more than we already have.”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. It will give us a chance to process it without feeling like we’re ruining your vacation.”

I throw up my hands. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I say so.” She forces a smile and pats me on the back. “Go.”

I give her a hug and then jog down the stairs to my room. I throw on some hiking boots and grab my metal water bottle, trying to pretend that there isn’t a dead dog on the other side of the wall. Part of me wants to stay, to help, to make sure everyone’s all right, but the other part of me feels like this is a Parker family issue and I shouldn’t interfere. But I keep picturing the untouched plate of grapes in the girls’ room, and the way Emma looked, like she knew something I didn’t. And that doll. That disfigured little doll.