Chapter Twenty-Eight Harriet
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Harriet
Now that we’re here, it’s hitting me. If we’re right about Matthew Prado/Davis/whatever his real name, he killed two people in cold blood.
Is going in there and confronting him a smart idea? Should we call the cops instead? Except what would we tell them? That he left town of his own accord and we followed him? If I’m not mistaken, we’d look like the crazy people in that scenario, not him.
“I think I should go in alone,” Nic says, interrupting my worrying. He unties his hoodie from around his waist and drops it on the floor. “This is my issue. If you got hurt because of it, I’d never…” He trails off, chewing on his bottom lip.
I wipe my sweaty palms across the waistband of my shorts. I’m not about to wimp out now. “Absolutely not. I’m coming.”
He looks at me with a frown. “Harriet…”
“Don’t bother wasting your time trying to change my mind. You know how stubborn I am.”
“Okay. But if there’s any sign of trouble, you need to leave. Immediately. Okay?”
I roll my eyes, trying to pretend like there isn’t a lump of fear lodged in the center of my throat. “Save your machismo bullshit, please. I can handle myself.”
“Harriet.” His voice is low. “I’m serious. I can’t go in there worried something will happen to you. I’ll be too distracted.”
I meet his eyes, and my heartbeat stumbles at the expression in them—worried, steady, full of care.
“Okay?” he says.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Out of the car, the neighborhood is quiet, the only sign of life the shouts of kids in the distance. I trail behind him to the front stoop, and Nic rings the bell.
A few seconds later, the door swings open, revealing a woman about my mom’s age with graying brown hair and a kind face. My shoulders drop away from my ears. If Matthew’s mom is home, there’s less chance of this ending badly.
At least I hope there is.
“Can I help you?” she says, hand still planted on the doorframe.
Nic clears his throat. “Hi there. We’re looking for Matthew? Matthew Prado…err, Davis? He’s been working for my mom’s catering company, and we need to, um… We just had a couple questions we need to run by him.”
She looks between us. “And you drove all the way down here to do it?”
“Uh, yeah. He wasn’t picking up his phone, and it’s important.”
“I spoke with someone from his work earlier this afternoon. Why didn’t they ask me to pass on your questions to him then?”
“They’re sensitive,” I tell her. “Money stuff.”
A cloud passes over her face. “Money stuff? What kind of money stuff?”
“Just a few—”
“Now that I think about it,” she continues. “They also called him Matthew Prado. Are we sure we’re even talking about the same person?”
“I think so? He listed you as his emergency contact in his employee file.” I nudge Nic, who holds up the photo of Matthew’s information so she can see it.
She looks at it with a frown. “Huh. The rest of that fits my son Matthew, but why…” She gives her head a little shake. “This is all very confusing. Why don’t you all come inside? We can try to get it sorted. What did you say your names are?”
“I’m Harriet,” I say, “and this is Nic.”
“Harriet and Nic.” She steps back from the door, giving us space to walk inside. “At the very least, it’s nice to meet some of the people he’s been spending time with recently. He’s been so reticent ever since he moved up to Boston—”
“Boston?” I interrupt. “He doesn’t live in Boston.”
Her chin tucks back. “What do you mean?”
I look at Nic. “We live in New Jersey.”
“New…” A deep line appears between her brows. “Where in New Jersey?”
“Logan Island.”
“Logan Island?”
“Mom?” someone calls. “Who is it?”
Ana’s head swings in the direction of the voice, then back to us.
“Is that Matthew?” Nic asks.
“I… Well, yes. I’m still… I don’t understand. I knew he was working at a catering company, but I thought—”
Matthew appears on the stairs. “Mom?”
His eyes land on Nic. On me.
His face pales.
“Hi, Matthew Prado,” Nic says. “Or should I say Matthew Davis?”
“These people are here to see you,” his mom says. “They say…they say you’ve been living on Logan Island? And why—they seem to think your last name is Prado?”
Matthew is silent.
“Matthew? What’s going on?”
His face collapses.
“Matthew?” Ana says again.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to do it.”