Free The Lies That Bind by Lisa Roecker Page B

darting to open the door anytime soon. But still I waited, because I hadn’t really planned past ringing the doorbell.
    No footsteps. No sounds.
    I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered through the glass panes situated at the side of the door. Looked like a normal house. Huge foyer. Stairs to the right. Dining room. Kitchen toward the back. And that’s when I noticed the flowers. On the table, a vase was tipped over, the flowers splayed across the wood, a few on the floor within a puddle of water. That was weird. Who left for out of town without picking up a knocked-over vase? Or how would a vase get knocked over in an empty house?
    I tensed, the muscles in my arms stiffening. I knocked automatically on the window but got the same response.
    Nothing.
    I tried the door, which was locked, of course, so I went around to the back of the house, my senses heightened. It occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t be there alone, but I reminded myself that I’d only seen a tipped-over vase. It wasn’t like I’d seen a puddle of blood. And then one of the back doors came into view. Instead of being locked tight like the others, this one was slightly ajar.
    My heart pumped furiously. Fight or flight? I stepped forward. Apparently I was fighting. I pushed the door open wider with my foot. If I kept one foot firmly planted on the back patio, I could escape if I needed to. At least that’s what I told myself.
    “Hello?” After I said it, I realized maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to do. By calling out, I’d just announced my presence to whoever had left that door open, if they were still there.
    Nothing.
    I poked my head in, and Bethany’s kitchen and family room came into full view. I didn’t know how the Giordanos kept their house, but I was pretty sure it didn’t normally look like this. Just about every drawer was pulled open, and the contents spilled across granite counters and hardwood floors. Stools along the breakfast bar were overturned, and a few kitchen chairs lay on their side. My hands shook as I pulled the phone from my pocket and called the police. This was not right.
    “Nine-one-one, what is the location of your emergency?”
    “Um…I’m at 6711 Marchmont in Shaker Heights. I need to report a break-in.” My voice shook and I had to crouch to keep from feeling like I was going to pass out. “And a missing person.” And God only knew what else. Ms. D. was not going to be happy, but this had gone far enough. I mean, did we really know for sure that the Brotherhood had taken Bethany? Sure, they had a motive to abduct her, but I couldn’t imagine why they’d want to trash her house. I was scared.
    I heard typing as the dispatcher tracked my location and began a case file. “Do you know if anyone is still in the house?”
    “No, I don’t think so. But I don’t know. I’m kind of freaking out,” I whispered. I moved farther away from the door at the thought of someone still being inside.
    “Okay, I’m dispatching officers to the house right now. Don’t hang up. I need you to keep talking to me until they arrive.”
    Within minutes I heard sirens, and a wave of relief crashed over me. And then dread because I knew how much explaining I would have to do. Not only to the police, but to my parents and Liam and everyone else. I rushed back around to the front of the house and met my dispatched officer. And I should have known right when I dialed a nine and then a one and then a one exactly who would be sent—because that’s just how it works out if you’re Kate Lowry. It was Detective Livingston.
    The relief I’d felt just seconds before was replaced with frustration. I found myself thinking back to being in Detective Livingston’s office after I’d discovered exactly how Grace had died, after I’d handed him all of the proof about the societies and what they’d done to my friend, after he’d threatened to charge me with assault if I didn’t leave the Brotherhood alone.
    But this was