The Sinner - Molly O'Keefe Page 0,12

said anything. She just watched me.

“Katie—”

“It’s Savannah.” I turned and saw her in the shadows under the cypress. “Has Katie been bothering you?”

I shook my head. “She’s just curious.”

“Curious.” Savannah actually smiled. “Is that another word for pain in the butt?”

“I was thinking precocious.”

Savannah nodded, calm and cool as if it wasn’t a million degrees outside and suddenly I felt every drop of sweat on my body. “Everything okay?” she asked. “You… ah…finding stuff?”

I looked down at the ancient sledgehammer and even older hand tools that I’d found in the shed. An upgrade would be needed if I was going to get this courtyard done with the skin of my hands intact.

“Sure,” I said. “But I think tomorrow I’ll go into town and get some supplies.”

“You’ll need money?”

I shook my head. I was lying to them, I wouldn’t compound my crimes by taking their money. “Margot gave me a deposit.” Not that I would ever cash the check.

She paused, standing there as if there was something more she wanted to say. Well, there was plenty I wanted to say, too.

Where the hell is your mother?

Where are the gems?

The questions were beating against my teeth, but it was too soon. Savannah was so suspicious already, and there was no way I could bring the subject of her mother up and make it seem natural. I would wait for my moment.

“What’s your plan out here?” she asked.

“Well, I’m going to start on the stone wall next.” I wiped my forehead and pointed over to the corner where the wall had crumbled.

“You’re bleeding.”

I glanced down at my arms and found a hundred little cuts and slices that I hadn’t even felt until this moment. “It’s fine. Glass.”

Savannah looked as if she were going to argue, but then she nodded.

The silence was thick. Uncomfortable.

“There’s nothing to steal here, you know that, right?” she asked. “If you’re thinking about robbing us, I’m just letting you know, in case you missed it, there’s nothing worth stealing. Hasn’t been for years.”

“You always this forthright?”

“Saves time,” she said and stepped over to the rock slide that made up the closest corner of the wall. She kicked at a small stone, sending it clattering.

“I’m not here to rob you,” I assured her.

“Then why are you here?” she asked, watching me through her thick fall of hair. Straight as glass that hair, like a curtain, and I got the distinct impression that she spent a lot of time watching people from behind it.

“I thought we already covered this,” I asked, not wanting to go back over my lies. Not wanting to talk to her at all, actually. It made me fell less righteous and more like a liar.

“Right.” She nodded and climbed up on another rock and turned to face me. Her daughter had done the exact same thing a few hours ago. This was a new side to Savannah. Playful. Young. “You’re a good Samaritan here to help Louisiana one crumbling courtyard at a time.”

Her wit matched her sharp beauty and I liked that.

“Something like that. You want to help me move some of those rocks?”

She shook her head, climbed up higher. “It’s what we’re paying you the big bucks for. You know, people leave their homes because they’re running from something.”

My sweat went cold. “I assume you’re talking about me?”

“A lot of the world—it’s basic human nature.”

“What if I’m looking for something?” I asked, looking her right in the eye, gauging her reaction.

Something electric filled the air between us. Something more dangerous than lies. More trouble than gems. Something hot and deep and compelling.

I want her.

And I realized that she was out here because she wanted me, too.

Well, now. Isn’t that an interesting development?

5

Savannah

I was a fly in amber. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. Matt’s green eyes blazed and my flesh tingled.

“Well,” I finally said, jumping down from the rocks on the other side of the pile, away from him. I turned my back, trying to get my bearings. My breath. “Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it here.”

“Tell me something.” His voice was deep and rich, like coffee. I loved coffee. “This thing with the cops? Why aren’t they taking this seriously?”

“It’s an old grudge.” I turned around to give him the Cliff’s Notes. “O’Neills have run brothels, bootlegging operations and part of the underground railroad out of this house. Cops don’t like us and we’re not always fond of them.”

“Your grandmother seems pretty law abiding,” he said.

“She’s the worst of all of us. Well,