Harper had a plan. It was a well-thought-out plan. A plan she formulated in the backseat of her mom's Rolls Royce. As the two were being chauffeured through the twisty roads of Evening, Harper sounded out her mom chattering away on her cell about next week's itinerary and peered out the window at the curtain of greenery lining the road only interrupted by the iron-wrought gates acres apart from each other.
It was going to be an easy plan. She didn't need a scheme to root out her friend's secret. It was Isabeth. They'd been friends for years. Their families ran in tight circles. Her mom, Isabeth's mom, and Faith's mom used to be friends in college. They have a fabric of familiarity woven throughout their makeup that nothing can dismantle. Not even an illicit affair with a school therapist and a secret love child. Harper knew Isabeth would be honest with her. Faith would blow her off and tell her she was being a naive child but not Isabeth.
Isabeth'll be forthcoming, be truthful. That's why when Dunphy eased the sedan to a stop in front of The Oleander Estate Harper jumped out before he could open her door. She ran up the stairs, shouting out a hey to Randolph as he greeted her 'good evening'. She didn't have time to entertain the pompous butler who believed he was better than all the other staff because he'd been with the Harper clan for years. She slammed her bedroom door behind her and changed out of her work clothes faster than Batman en route to save Gotham City. She whizzed past Keegan begging to play tea party with her muttering later and proclaimed an 'I will' when her mom told her to be back before dinner. Harper grabbed a carrot that Noah finished peeling and hurried to the garage, grabbed her bike, and began pedaling.
Reaching Isabeth's gravel driveway she dropped the bike down realizing she was out of shape. Skipping out on a hiking or anything that required more physical exertion than getting out of bed and walking to the car had come back to haunt her. She gasped in breaths as she stumbled up Isabeth's porch making a mental note to have Dunphy pick her up. There was no way she was about to cycle back. Lance Armstrong, she was not.
Harper heard Delilah's barking before she even rapped her knuckles against the plum-painted door.
"It's open!" Isabeth's yelled voice leaked from the other side of the door.
Harper twisted the crystal knob and revealed in the cool air tinged with rose and ylang-ylang hugged her tepid skin, "You think it's safe to leave your door unlocked?" She asked shutting the door behind her and locking it as Delilah gave her a prerequisite sniffing. "It's not all that safe around here, anymore." She gave the Doberman a generous pat on the head before journeying down the hallway that led to Isabeth's room.
"What!" Harper heard Isabeth shout over the infectious R&B pulsating from the built-in speaker system through the house. "What you say?
Harper followed her friend's voice like breadcrumbs. Delilah trailed behind her as she walked down the hallway and into Isabeth's room. She brushed her eyes around the empty room, admiring the maturity of her friend. Isabeth had her own home; tidy and aromatic. She kept the food stocked in the fridge, cared for three horses, and still arrived on time for her internship. Harper shook her head at herself. She'd never had that responsibility. The chef prepared her breakfast, the maid cleaned her room, and if she wasn't riding with her mom she'd be late to the office every morning—was it normal to wake up before nine during the summer, Harper didn't think so. She equated it to pure torture.
"I said..." Harper leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. "Are you sure you should be leaving your door unlocked? Two disappearances and one death, Evening's no longer a sleepy little town of the rich and lackadaisical anymore."
Isabeth, in a green silk robe, stopped dragging the mascara brush through her already long eyelashes. "Locked doors don't make you safe." She judged the precision of her eyelashes and then moved over to her other eye. "But Delilah's got this place under control."
YOU ARE READING
The Homecoming: Book Three of The Psychopath Maker Series
Mystery / ThrillerThree played a 'Wicked Game.' Now, it's time for round two. One will fight. One will meet The Maker. And one will try to keep them all safe. The world may be black and white but to win this game, they'll have to play in the gray.
