Now, with the murders and knowing that she was somehow connected to them, Gemma could never tell Harper or Alex or her father.

But there was one person she might be able to talk to, one person whose grasp on reality had become so tenuous, she would never doubt Gemma’s story—her mother.

*   *   *

“How are things going with Alex?” Harper asked as she drove them both to see their mother on Sunday morning.

“Do you mean in our relationship, or how he’s holding up in general?” Gemma asked. She was slouched low in the passenger seat, staring through her dark sunglasses out the window.

“Um, both.” Harper glanced over at her, as if surprised that her sister had said that much.

They’d barely spoken on the entire twenty-minute ride to Briar Ridge, despite Harper’s many attempts at conversation. Now that they were almost to the group home, Gemma started to respond with whole sentences.

“Good, considering. On both counts.” Gemma tugged at her ears, trying to alleviate the watersong. It only seemed to get louder, no matter what she tried, and it was maddening.

“Well, I’m glad that you came with me to see Mom today,” Harper said. “I know it was hard for you to break away from Alex, but Mom loves to see you.”

“About that.” Gemma turned to her sister as they pulled in front of the group home. “I want to see Mom by myself today.”

“What do you mean?” Harper turned off the car and narrowed her eyes at Gemma.

“I need to talk to her by myself.”

“Why? About what?”

“If I wanted to tell you about it, I wouldn’t need to see Mom alone,” Gemma pointed out.

“Well…” Harper sighed and looked out the front window. “Why did you wait until now to tell me that? Why didn’t you just come here by yourself?”

“My car’s broken, and I knew you’d never let me go anywhere by myself,” Gemma said. “At least not in your car. I’m actually a little surprised you let me walk over to Alex’s house by myself.”

“Don’t do that.” Harper shook her head. “Don’t make me sound like the bad guy. You’re the one who has been running around doing God knows what with those awful girls! It’s your fault we don’t trust you.”

“Harper.” Gemma groaned and hit her head on the back of the car seat. “I never said it wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re acting totally bananas lately,” Harper went on, as if she hadn’t heard a thing that Gemma had said. “And there’s a serial killer on the loose on top of everything. What else am I supposed to do? Just let you run wild?”

“God! You’re not my mom, Harper!” Gemma snapped.

“And she is?” Harper pointed to the group home next to them.