Page 46 of The One
My pulse hammered away. “Turn off your lights.”
“But I’m still driving?—”
“Turn them off!”
It was the middle of the night. I was sure most, if not all, of these homes had exterior cameras. I didn’t want her headlights to cause any alarm or bring unwanted attention.
“It’s the white one.” I pointed at the house even though her app was telling her how much farther to drive and when to stop. “Park here.” My finger shifted to the house directly before theirs.
She pulled over along the grass, the angle not only showing the front, but also the side.
While I was memorizing the Jeep’s license plate, Trista said, “Are you going to get out?”
“No.”
“Then, why are we here?”
I hadn’t told her where we were going or why I was having her pick me up in the first place, so I could understand how this could seem a bit odd.
But that didn’t mean she deserved an accurate answer.
“Because I need to be here.”
She turned off the car. “Okay.”
I moved the seat up, forcing my back to straighten, and I took in the exterior of the two-story house. I didn’t know what I was looking for. What I expected to find. Why I’d thought coming here would settle anything in my mind.
The only thing I got was, the presence of the Jeep told me that Lainey was staying with her parents.
But for how long?
And when had she gotten back?
I certainly wouldn’t find those answers in the flower beds on each side of the front door or the stucco exterior, but as my gaze rose to the second floor, something caught my attention. A light had just turned on. Since I knew the whole layout of the home, I knew the room was Penelope’s.
But the person appearing in front of the window wasn’t her.
It was her twin sister.
Lainey.
She stood in front of the glass, looking outside.
“Shit, I don’t want her to see me.” I ducked, hiding as much of myself as I could behind the dashboard.
“Don’t worry, she’s gone, and I don’t think she saw either of us.”
I first looked at Trista and then out the windshield, confirming the first part of what she’d said. The light stayed on, and within a few seconds, Lainey reappeared. But rather than standing in front of the window again, she was pacing by it, giving me a glimpse of her face and then her back.
She didn’t stop; she just kept going.
“You know … she looks as torn up as you,” Trista whispered.
How did she know that?
We were too far away to see the details of Lainey’s face. What we could see was the placement of her hands, how they dug through her hair and how they gripped the back of her neck and how they rested flat on the top of her head, constantly moving, as though she couldn’t find a comfortable position.
There was only one reason you paced in the middle of the night with hands that couldn’t stay still.
