Chapter 1 - three hours before midnight)
Three hours earlier, Noah Carter had been laughing.
Emily would remember that later.
Not the decorations.
Not the expensive champagne Patricia had ordered.
Not the carefully arranged flowers or the enormous silver balloons floating near the ceiling of Patricia Carter’s immaculate suburban home.
She would remember Noah laughing.
He had received the blue scooter two days after Christmas, and since then he had treated it as if it were the greatest invention in human history.
He rode it through the garage.
He pushed it down the hallway until Patricia complained.
He practiced balancing on one foot beside Emily’s kitchen island.
By New Year’s Eve, Noah had already decided he was going to become, in his own words, “a professional scooter guy.”
Emily had no idea what that occupation involved.
She told him she supported his career.
At nine o’clock that evening, Noah sat cross-legged on Patricia’s living room rug, explaining the complex rules of a scooter competition he had apparently invented.
Emily watched him from the couch.
Dana stood near the kitchen drinking wine.
Patricia was speaking to two friends from her charity committee.
Everything looked normal.
That was the dangerous thing about the Carter family.
From the outside, almost everything looked normal.
Patricia had spent decades making sure of it.
Her home was spotless.
Her clothes were expensive.
Her parties were elegant without appearing desperate.
Her daughters smiled in photographs.
Her grandson wore polished shoes to family dinners.
Problems were not solved in Patricia Carter’s world.
They were hidden.
Emily had learned that when she was twelve years old and Patricia had told her not to mention that her father had slept in the guest room for six months.
She learned it again at seventeen when Dana crashed their father’s car and Patricia convinced a family friend to claim he had been driving.
She learned it when their parents eventually divorced and Patricia told everyone that Thomas Carter had abandoned the family, even though Emily had found the letters he sent every week.
And she had learned it most painfully two years earlier, after Emily’s own marriage fell apart.
Patricia had hated Emily’s husband from the beginning.
Michael Brooks had been a public-school science teacher.
He had earned less in a year than Patricia sometimes spent renovating a kitchen.
But he had been kind.
He had loved Noah more than anything.
When Emily and Michael’s marriage began struggling, Patricia had treated it almost like a victory.
Michael moved to Oregon after the divorce to care for his ill father, but he remained involved in Noah’s life through constant calls and regular visits.
Patricia still referred to him as “the man who left.”
Emily corrected her every time.
That evening was no different.
One of Patricia’s friends asked Noah whether he would be visiting his father during spring break.
Before Noah could answer, Patricia smiled.
“If his father remembers.”
Emily’s head turned.
“Mom.”
Patricia sipped champagne.
“What?”
“Don’t.”
“I was making a joke.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
Patricia’s friend pretended to become fascinated by the Christmas tree.
Dana gave Emily a warning look.
That look had existed since childhood.
Don’t start.
Don’t embarrass Mom.
Don’t ruin the evening.
Emily was tired of obeying it.
“Noah talks to his dad four nights a week,” Emily said calmly. “Michael already booked the flights.”
Patricia’s smile tightened.
“I stand corrected.”
Noah looked between them.
Emily reached down and squeezed his shoulder.
“Go show Aunt Dana your new brake trick.”
Noah brightened immediately.
He grabbed the scooter and hurried toward the kitchen.
Patricia waited until he was gone.
Then she lowered her voice.
“You enjoy humiliating me.”
Emily almost smiled.
“That’s an interesting interpretation.”
“You could have let it go.”
“You were lying about Noah’s father in front of Noah.”
“I said one sentence.”
“You always say one sentence.”
Patricia stared at her.
Emily continued.
“One sentence about Michael. One about my job. One about my apartment. One about how much better Noah would do if I moved closer to you.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“No. You’re trying to control.”
Patricia’s mouth became a thin line.
“You wouldn’t survive without this family.”
The sentence was familiar.
Patricia had used versions of it for years.
When Emily needed help with daycare.
When Emily changed careers.
When the divorce became expensive.
When she moved into a smaller townhouse.
Every act of assistance eventually became evidence of ownership.
Emily stood.
“I’m doing fine.”
“You call fine living forty minutes away in a rental?”
“It’s a home.”
“It’s temporary.”
“Not everything has to impress your friends.”
Patricia glanced toward the kitchen.
“You have no idea what financial security means.”
Emily looked at her mother.
“Maybe because you keep using money like a leash.”
That landed.
Patricia’s expression became cold.
Before she could answer, Dana appeared.
“Can both of you not do this tonight?”
Emily laughed quietly.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because Mom invited everyone here.”
“There are nine people.”
“You know what I mean.”
Emily picked up her glass of sparkling water.
“Yes. I do.”
She walked away.
At ten thirty, most guests had left.
A light snow had begun earlier but stopped quickly, leaving the air painfully cold and the driveway wet.
Confetti poppers sat ready for midnight.
Noah had become tired but refused to admit it.
At eleven fifteen, Emily told him they were leaving after the countdown.
He negotiated until twelve fifteen.
They settled on twelve five.
Patricia drank another glass of champagne.
Dana noticed.
Emily noticed Dana noticing.
“You should stop,” Dana told Patricia quietly.
Patricia waved her away.
“I’m in my own house.”
“I know.”
“So?”
“So you’ve had enough.”
Patricia looked offended.
“I am perfectly fine.”
Emily said nothing.
She did not plan to let Patricia drive anywhere.
There was no reason for Patricia to drive.
Everyone still remaining was staying the night or had transportation.
At eleven forty, a catering assistant came through the kitchen.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Patricia turned.
“Our van is blocked.”
“By what?”
“Your SUV.”
Patricia frowned.
“I parked where I always park.”
“We need another six feet to get out.”
Dana reached for Patricia’s keys.
“I’ll move it.”
Patricia pulled them away.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Mom.”
“It’s twenty feet.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
Patricia’s eyes flashed toward Emily.
That was all it took.
If Dana had asked quietly, Patricia might have listened.
But knowing Emily had heard transformed the issue into pride.
“I’m not drunk.”
Emily spoke.
“Then let Dana move it.”
Patricia stood.
“I said I’m fine.”
“Mom.”
“I am not going to be treated like an invalid in my own home.”
She walked toward the mudroom.
Dana followed.
Emily started after them.
Then Noah called from behind her.
“Mom?”
He stood near the hall with his scooter.
“I left my gloves outside.”
Emily turned.
“You’re not going out.”
“They’re on the porch.”
“I’ll get them.”
“I know where they are.”
“Noah.”
“Please?”
Emily glanced toward the mudroom.
Patricia had already disappeared through the door.
Dana was putting on her coat.
Emily pointed toward the living room.
“Stay inside.”
Noah nodded.
Emily hurried to the mudroom.
Outside, Patricia’s SUV lights flashed.
Dana stood beside the driver’s door.
“Mom, give me the keys.”
Patricia laughed.
“Stop making a scene.”
“You’ve had four glasses.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
Emily opened the door.
“Patricia.”
Her mother looked at her.
Emily rarely used her first name.
“You are not driving.”
Patricia’s expression hardened.
“It is my car.”
“I don’t care.”
“Get inside.”
“Give Dana the keys.”
Behind Emily, somewhere inside the house, a door clicked.
Nobody noticed.
Patricia climbed into the SUV.
Dana looked at Emily helplessly.
Emily stepped toward the vehicle.
Then the catering assistant called from behind her.
“Ma’am, we only need the car moved straight forward.”
Patricia started the SUV.
Emily saw the glow of the dashboard illuminate her mother’s face.
Patricia held the steering wheel with one hand.
Her phone was in the other.
Emily pointed at it.
“Put that down.”
Patricia rolled her eyes.
Emily moved toward the driver’s window.
The SUV began moving.
Slowly.
Emily stepped back.
Dana walked alongside it.
Then Emily heard something behind her.
A small metallic clatter.
She turned.
Noah’s scooter was no longer inside the mudroom.
And from somewhere beyond the rear corner of the SUV came Noah’s voice.
“Mom?”
Emily’s blood went cold.
“Stop!”
The SUV jerked.
There was a dull impact.
May you like
A scream.
And the sound of metal hitting pavement.
