Don't Make a Sound by T.R. Ragan

Author:T.R. Ragan [T.R. Ragan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-31T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sawyer pulled up behind a media van stationed outside the house where Isabella Estrada had grown up. The one-story ranch-style home appeared freshly painted. The yellow and pink rosebushes separating the house from the neighbors on both sides were in full bloom.

Walking toward the house, she heard the van door open and close behind her. Next thing she knew, a young woman with determination in her eyes was shoving a microphone in Sawyer’s face.

“Did you know Isabella Estrada? Are you a friend of the family?”

“No and no,” Sawyer said as she walked onward, never slowing.

The front door flew open before Sawyer could knock.

“Get off our property! I’m calling the police!” The man was big and broad and frightening. It took Sawyer a half second to realize he was talking to the woman standing next to her.

“Shit.” She backed off and hurried back to the van.

His gaze settled on Sawyer. “Who are you?”

Be up front was Sean Palmer’s mantra. She wondered how often he followed his own advice. “I’m Sawyer Brooks. My parents are Joyce and Dennis Brooks.” Not a lie.

His big shoulders relaxed. “Listen,” he said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but my sister and brother-in-law are in a whole lot of pain right now. Unless you can tell us who might have killed my niece, I can’t help you.”

“I was hoping—”

“Let her in,” came a male voice from inside the house. The man standing in front of Sawyer filled the doorway, making it impossible to see past him. He finally stepped aside. She recognized him at once. “Caden,” she said, “I’m so sorry about your sister.”

He nodded, said, “Let’s go to the back.”

She followed him through the house, caught sight of people in the living room. A dark-haired woman was talking in a calm, soothing voice to a middle-aged couple sitting on the couch. The woman on the couch was crying while the man next to her tried to comfort her.

Caden paused when they got to the kitchen, then waved her toward the side door leading to the backyard. She followed him outside, down three wooden steps, and across a rocky path, where he finally stopped at a pair of aluminum chairs with red padding faded by the sun.

“Sorry, but it’s a little chaotic inside right now.”

“Thanks for talking to me at all. How are you holding up?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “It’s pretty shocking. But I needed a break from all the craziness. Are you living in River Rock?” he asked.

“No. I left after graduating. I live in Sacramento, but I came back for my gramma’s funeral.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss too.” She paused. “How about you? Do you live in River Rock?”

“No. I went to college in Oregon and ended up in Portland. I work in advertising.” He smiled. “I’m engaged.”

Sawyer could see that he was doing all he could to stay strong. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

“Thanks.”

An awkward moment passed before Sawyer asked, “Who was the woman inside, talking to your parents?”

“A grief counselor.

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