To our inconvenience, Harry is on a rest day. I don't know how many times I plead with Officer Jones on reception to give me his address, but in the end, it's fruitless. I walk away empty-handed.

"Now what?" asks Chloe.

"We come back tomorrow, I guess."

We head back to hers to chat some more about the drugs and the possibility of postponing college. By the time we arrive, the sun is already setting and I notice Mom's car already in the drive.

"My mom's here," I state, following Chloe to the front door.

We hear voices as we enter. Unrecognizable voices.

"How was the flight?" I hear Celia ask.

"Exhausting! I could murder some coffee."

I cringe at that word.

Chloe's eyes widen, and before I can question her reaction, she flings open the door.

"Oh my God!"

The definition of glamorous stares back at us in the form of strawberry blonde locks and bright green eyes. Connie.

"MOM!"

Chloe runs into her open arms, elated.

"Hi, honey."

"What're you doing here?" she asks, pulling back an inch.

Connie studies her daughter with fond eyes. "I'm here to persuade you to come back to Paris with me."

Chloe's smile fades. "Oh?"

I awkwardly stand, eyeing Celia in the far corner. Mom looks about as comfortable as I feel and appears to be engaging in some sort of silent exchange with Dad. It's clear by their expressions that neither of them had been expecting Connie's arrival.

"Where are you staying?" asks Chloe, seeing no luggage.

"The guest bedroom," replies Connie, screwing up her face. "Although, I must say, I don't like what you've done with it. It's decorated like a teenager's bedroom."

Dad coughs, sparing me a glance. "It is."

"Why?" she badgers.

Chloe smiles. "It's Helena's. Or at least it will be. Once it's finished."

"It was going to be a surprise," adds Dad.

"Of course!" delights Connie, faking enthusiasm. "Your other daughter. How could I forget?"

Ouch!

Her eyes cut across to mine and regard me with disdain.

"Hi," I offer. "I'm Helena."

"Pretty little thing," she comments.

I cower underneath her gaze.

"We should get going," suggests Mom, gesturing for Celia to get moving.

"Nonsense!" insists Connie. "Stay for dinner. You're family now, Perrie."

Mom's eyes widen.

"You did steal my husband, after all."

Celia gawks and I splutter, shocked by her savagery.

"Connie!" warns Dad.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

Mom finally interferes. "I didn't steal anyone. You're not married."

"But Jason and I were together when you got pregnant."

Oh?

The air is thick as we wait for Mom's retort.

"Actually, we weren't," offers Dad, jumping in to defend Mom. "So I suggest we move on and refrain from discussing this matter again. You're here for Chloe. Not to dig up the past."

This shuts her up.

"We'll be around first thing in the morning," assures Chloe, breaking through the awkwardness.

"Why? What's tomorrow?" questions Connie.

"Sarah's funeral," I explain.

"Oh."

Dad offers to walk us out, leaving Chloe and Connie conversing in the kitchen.

"I had no idea she was coming, Per," he whispers when we're finally in the hall.

"It's fine. She's Chloe's mom."

Celia and I awkwardly linger, not entirely sure what to do or say.

"Will you be okay?" he asks, clearly concerned.

"Of course. I've got my girls," she says, looking at Celia and I.

He sees us off with a kiss on the cheek each and waits until we're backing out of the drive before heading inside. Mom insists on driving in silence and just about hits every red light on the way home. It's overbearingly awkward and just when I can't take it anymore, Celia interrupts.

"You could totally kick Connie's ass, Perrie."

I instantly burst out laughing, Mom joining in soon after.

"Ya think?"

"Without a doubt!"

By now, the sun has long gone and the temperatures have dropped dramatically because of it. Dan is in the kitchen when we arrive home, eating takeout pizza.

"Help yourself," he says, gesturing towards the box. "I'll take this upstairs."

"You don't have to," I say.

Mom and Celia immediately dig in, leaving Dan and I alone by the table.

"I saw Shaun the other day," I admit. "I was there visiting Elliot."

He quirks a brow.

"We spoke."

"How'd he react?"

"He didn't really," I admit, thinking back to his blank stare. "I asked him to plead guilty."

"Yeah?"

He stares at his pizza, sad and pathetic.

"Excusing his actions is causing more harm," I insist. "He doesn't even seem sorry."

He flinches, taken aback by my brutality. "Don't say that."

"It's true," I say. "He took another life and has no remorse."

I can tell I've struck a cord.

"Is that what you really think?"

I shrug.

"So what? We just give up on him?"

"You already have by pandering to him," I reply. "There are people out there living with mental illnesses and for Shaun to use that as an excuse is insulting. He won't learn."

"You think he's capable of doing this again?"

"I think he's a sociopath," I offer. "So, yes. I think he's capable of doing this again."

He sighs.

"He lacks empathy."

"He knows what he did was wrong," argues Dan.

"But that didn't stop him," I retort. "And if he avoids punishment, he'll think he can get away with it again."

"How can you say that about your own brother?"

"He's a murderer. It's a hard pill to swallow—I know. But the sooner you accept it, the better."

Silence.

"I have accepted it."

"Then stop feeding him excuses and deal with the situation. Have him plead guilty."

"But he'll spend the rest of his life locked up."

"As he should," I argue, heart splintering. "He'll receive help and discipline in prison. He might even benefit. Drugging him up to the eyeballs and blaming his actions on some condition that doesn't even exist is not going to benefit anyone."

His features falter.

"You know it's the right thing to do," I say, offering him a smile.

It breaks my heart to talk about Shaun in this way, but it's the hard truth. He's a killer. A danger to society and he doesn't deserve to walk free. The sooner Dan realizes that, the better.

For everyone.

****

Celia is in the shower when Mom takes a seat next to me on the sofa, a bar of chocolate in hand. We ended up eating dinner with Dan and although the topic remained Shaun-free, tonight felt like a breakthrough. A step in the right direction.

"Everything set for tomorrow?" I ask.

"Yeah," she replies, popping some chocolate in her mouth and offering me the packet. "The church service starts at 1PM."

I nod, snapping a piece off for myself.

"I heard what you said about Shaun," she says. "I didn't realize you had spoken to him."

I nod.

"How was it?"

"It was fine," I admit. "I begged him to call you."

She sighs. "I doubt he will."

"Why d'ya think that?"

"Because I failed him."

I throw a piece of chocolate at her head. "That's bull and you know it!"

"Ouch!" she complains, rubbing the sore spot. "That hurt!"

"Don't say stupid shit and I won't hurt you."

She laughs.

"D'ya know why I can't forgive him?" I ask, muting the TV.

There's a moment of silence before she replies. "Because he tried to kill you?"

"No," I say. "Because he tried to kill you."

She frowns.

"You took him in, knowing he wasn't yours and you loved him. Cared for him. And he threw it back in your face."

"Lena—"

"And the truth is, you're not to blame. Neither is Dan. Or me. Shaun is. He knew what he was doing. He made his choice."

She nods.

"He's my brother. I'll always love him, but I'll never forgive him for what he did to Sienna. What he tried to do to us and Elliot."

"I understand," she replies, pulling me in for a hug.

I rest my head on her shoulder.

"I love you, Helena."

We both stay rooted in this position, sprawled out on the sofa. I snuggle further into her chest and keep the TV muted, enjoying the peace and quiet.

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you and Dad dating?"

Her chest vibrates from beneath me as she giggles.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't want to."

I sit up. "What?"

"He doesn't think I'm in the right head space."

Oh.

"He might have a point."

She smiles. "He does."

Celia's singing voice travels downstairs, delicate and angelic. I don't recognize the lyrics, but the melody is familiar.

"I'm thinking of postponing College," I blurt out.

Mom snaps another piece of chocolate off for herself. By now, half the bar has been demolished.

"I thought you might say that."

"You're not mad?" I ask.

"Sweetheart—I'm okay with whatever you decide. As long as you're happy."

"I can't leave them," I say, gesturing upstairs. "Not like this."

She nods.

"Especially after what I found out today."

"What did you find out?" she asks, sceptical.

I dig out my phone and show her the image of Carl's second note.

"Where did you find this?" she questions, studying my phone's screen.

"At Sarah's house."

"Why were you there?" she berates, though does so half heartedly.

I listen for the sound of running water, happy that Celia is still in the shower. "Elliot heard whispers in prison."

"What kind of whispers?"

"Carl's running some drug op. According to Elliot's cellmate, he was using a house in Oak Valley to store his stash."

"Sarah's house?"

"That's what we figured," I say. "So, Chloe and I thought we'd check it out."

"And?" she questions.

"It's not just some drug op, Mom. It's a freaking empire. Check it out."

I show her the photos I took earlier.

"Jesus Christ," she sighs, scrolling through each image. "This explains why they were arguing the night Sarah was killed. D'ya think she found out?"

I nod.

"Who knows about this?" she questions.

"No one. Only Chloe. We were going to show Harry, but he's off today. I'll try catching him tomorrow."

She desperately rubs at her temples, no doubt to soothe the ache that's arrived.

"I hate him," she suddenly declares. "I don't use that word often, but I do."

"Me too," I say. "And I've never even met the guy."

"I hope you never do." She looks through the pictures once more. "We should tell your dad."

I nod.

"Where's my cell?"

Before either of us can move, the doorbell rings. For a moment, we do nothing. Both of us, motionless.

"Who could that be?" I ask.

It's long past nine and the people of Oak Valley consider that late.

"Dunno," she replies, slowly making her way towards the front door.

I follow closely behind, shaking with anticipation. With nerves. Whoever it is must have good reason to be here.

"Mom?"

She looks through the peephole and releases a sigh, pulling the door open immediately after. I expect to see Dad on the other side, only I don't. Instead, I see Harry Layton wearing casual jeans and a serious face.

"We need to talk," he says, glancing between Mom and I. "Now!"

****

I hope you're ready for some drama because it's coming, y'all...