Everyone’s heads bobbed. Lauren didn’t know what to believe. There were signs of North’s existence: The perfect bedroom upstairs. The welcome packet from the school. And who was that picture Andrea had seen in Piper’s office? Some other little boy? But it made Lauren feel light-headed, the wrongness of it, the sort of disturbance that had to be taking place in Piper’s mind to carry out such a thing.

“I’m really sorry, Graham,” she said quietly, because she couldn’t quite fathom the devastation of losing a child. But on the heels of it, she felt hideously betrayed. He should have told her that he’d gone through that. Also, it didn’t explain why Graham was here. Her gaze fell to the papers in his hands. “What are those?”

Graham shifted them behind his back. “Just old stuff Piper never gave back.”

“Now you’ve come for it?” Lauren scrambled to understand. “After all these years?”

“I didn’t know she was here until a few weeks ago.”

When Lauren breathed in, she could smell the sharp, tangy, sweaty scent Graham always emitted when he was under stress. She used to like it in the same way she liked the smell of her family dog’s paws. But now it made her sick. She breathed in sharply. “Were you the one stalking her, Graham?”

Graham scoffed. “Stalker is a little intense.”

“Have you been lurking around this house? Scaring her?” She put her hands on her hips. “Were you the one who attacked her?”

“No,” Graham growled. “I’m not.”

“Yes.” Lauren’s voice shook. “You knocked out Ronnie. You nearly killed Piper. You slammed her head against the wall.”

“I. Wasn’t. There.” Little droplets of spittle flew from Graham’s mouth. He stared at the gun in his hand like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. “Can you go? Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen.”

Lauren could feel Andrea and Ronnie backing away. Her gaze fell again to the papers in Graham’s hand. It was a slim bundle, but she was able to make out that the top sheet was a series of printed pictures. In one of them, she could see half of Piper’s face. Her eyes were cast down. She looked troubled. Her face was eerily pale.

“Why do you have photos of Piper?” she asked, pointing to them.

“Lauren.” Graham stuffed them into the back pocket of his jeans. His voice was pleading, desperate. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Lauren,” Ronnie warned. “Let’s just go. Please.”

Lauren’s legs were trembling, but she couldn’t move. “Tell me, Graham. Tell me the truth.”