Chapter 5 - Echoes in Austin
The drive down Interstate 35 was four hours of suffocating, unbroken silence. The headlights of my beat-up Honda cut through the Texas dark, illuminating highway signs that felt like milestones on a road back to a past I had tried so hard to bury.
Austin had changed in the year I had been gone. The skyline was taller, pierced by cranes and glass towers that looked like giant mirrors catching the morning sun. But as I turned off MoPac onto the winding, tree-lined streets of Tarrytown, the past rose up to meet me with visceral familiarity.
The live oaks still arched over Crestview Lane, casting dappled shadows on the asphalt. The air smelled of cedar and damp earth. This was the street where I had learned to ride a bicycle without training wheels, my mother running behind me with her laugh echoing off the fences. This was the street where Carter had brought Maria home for the first time, introducing her as our "new beginning."
I pulled the car over two houses down from number 4122.
"My God," Carter breathed from the passenger seat, his face pressed against the glass.
I looked at the house, and a knot of fury tightened in my throat.
They had completely erased my mother.
The warm cedar siding Eleanor had loved had been painted an aggressive, sterile white. The native stone flowerbeds where Mom had planted purple coneflowers and black-eyed Susans had been ripped out, replaced by artificial turf and minimalist black planters. A giant, neon-pink sign hung crookedly from the second-floor balcony: *HAZEL V. STUDIOS - PRIVATE SHOWROOM.*
Parked in the circular driveway was Hazel’s white Mercedes CLA—leased with Carter’s credit—and a large, polished black SUV with out-of-state plates. A professional real estate sign stood on the lawn, emblazoned with a red banner: *UNDER CONTRACT - PENDING CASH CLOSING.*
"They found a buyer," Carter whispered, his voice trembling. "They already found a buyer."
"Not yet," I said, shifting the car into park. "The closing hasn't funded."
I looked at my dashboard clock. It was eight-fifteen in the morning. Frost Bank didn't open its safe deposit vault until nine.
Suddenly, the front door of 4122 Crestview swung open.
Hazel stepped out onto the porch.
Even from fifty yards away, I recognized her unmistakable posture—the exaggerated, haughty strut of someone who believed the world existed solely to provide her with content. She was wearing an oversized beige blazer, cycling shorts, and gold sunglasses, holding her phone on a small tripod in front of her face as she walked down the porch steps, recording a video.
Behind her came Maria.
Maria looked older than I remembered, but her calculating presence was unchanged. She was dressed in an expensive silk blouse, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a leather portfolio in the other. She was talking to a tall man in a navy suit who looked like an escrow officer or an estate broker.
"Look at them," Carter whimpered, shrinking down into the passenger seat. "They’re celebrating. They’re closing the sale today."
"Stay in the car," I ordered.
"Zoe, don't go over there!" Carter reached for my arm, his fingers clawing at my sleeve. "Maria is dangerous! She’ll call the police!"
I jerked my arm out of his grasp, glaring at him with such intensity that he dropped his hands instantly.
"I spent twelve years hiding from these women in my own home because you were too cowardly to protect me," I said, each word laced with venom. "I am not hiding in a car."
I opened the driver’s door, stepped out into the crisp morning air, and slammed it behind me.
The sound echoed down the quiet street. Hazel stopped her recording, lowering her tripod. Maria paused mid-sentence, her sunglasses dropping slightly as she looked toward the street.
I didn't run. I didn't rush. I walked up the driveway with deliberate, measured strides, my boots striking the concrete like rhythmic strikes.
Hazel squinted, trying to make out who was approaching. When I stepped past the shadow of the live oak into the bright morning sunlight, her jaw dropped. The smug, cultivated smile on her face vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated shock.
"Zoe?" Hazel gasped.
Maria didn't gasp. Her eyes narrowed into two razor-thin slits, her posture stiffening immediately. She handed her coffee cup to the broker beside her without looking at him and took two steps forward, positioning herself at the top of the porch steps like a queen defending her stolen castle.
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"Well," Maria said, her voice smooth, dripping with synthetic charm that couldn't conceal the underlying venom. "Look what crawled out of the gutter."
***
