Not for almost two years, you shit. He’s not going to get to her. Not today.
“Listen. Diana says she thinks you’re seeing someone. You’re not being careful enough. I don’t want to see her hurt. You need to stop playing with her.”
“Ah, that’s rich. You don’t want to see Diana hurt.”
“You know what I mean. I don’t know who you’re screwing. Just don’t get sloppy. Think of Hadley.”
He lifts himself with a grunt to sit on the island and takes a drink from his can of water. “Don’t you have enough going on? Why all the concern? Not that I’m not glad you’re here. You always look so fuckable in the morning.”
Kimber laughs. “You really are a shit.”
They hear the light clop of Diana’s heeled sandals on the stairs. Kimber gauges the distance between herself and Kyle. Far enough. She takes a step back anyway.
Diana’s favorite vanilla Kate Spade bag hangs from the crook of one arm as she secures an earring. Fifteen minutes earlier she was in shorts and a gauzy hooded sweater, but now she’s dressed in a bright tangerine swing dress that sways a couple of inches above her knees, and her makeup is fresh. In her informal floral dress and sandals, Kimber feels less than chic in comparison. She’s glad she took the time to do something with her hair and put on the scarf she brought from the house. There wasn’t much she could do to disguise the scrape on her chin. Diana would always be the butterfly to her moth.
“That child will be the death of me. But she went right to sleep.” Earring fastened, she snaps her fingers. “One last scream about the unfairness of life and she was out. Let’s take my car. It knows the way.”
Kimber watches Kyle watching Diana. He loves her, and she doesn’t know how much. It isn’t the first time she’s seen him look at her this way: not only with admiration but with a sense of surprise that this beautiful creature is his. He knows he doesn’t deserve her. Kimber knows he doesn’t deserve her.
“What?” Diana lifts a hand to her cheek, looking worried. “Is there something wrong with my makeup? What is it?”
“You look amazing!” Kimber gestures to Kyle. “Kyle was telling me he lost today.”
“That’s too bad, honey. Elbow?”
“Yeah. I’ll get some ice. There’s golf on. Maybe Hadley and I will crash in the theater room for a while.”
Diana kisses him on the cheek. “Let her sleep for now. She’s exhausted.” She turns to Kimber, but she’s not smiling. She’s simply in charge. “Ready? Let’s go.”
As Diana heads down the hall to the garage, Kyle touches Kimber on the shoulder. “No one,” he whispers. “Not in six months. Scout’s honor.” Raising three fingers in a scout’s salute, he nods.
“If you say so. Gotta go.”
“What are you doing on your phone?” Diana shakes a finger at Kimber. Her nails are newly lacquered in a vibrant color called New Papua Coral. “Surely you can leave that thing alone for five minutes. Did you get a facial yet? Here, feel.” Taking one of Kimber’s hands, she touches it to her own face. “So yummy.”
Kimber feels both lectured at and—what is it?—cared for. Like Diana is a schizophrenic. “Oh, nice. I’m texting Shaun to see if he’s looked at the pics I sent him of those pages from the bible. It’s weird that somebody like Lance Wilson would be traveling with a bible, right? But I think Shaun and Troy might be at Italian lessons this afternoon. Shaun has this dream of getting married in Italy. Only I don’t know if they marry gay men in Italy. Isn’t it pretty Catholic?”
Diana puzzles over it. “I don’t think they do. But it’s nice that he’s such a romantic. Was he always like that? Somehow he doesn’t sound like he was your type.”
There’s a gay joke in there somewhere, but Kimber ignores it. “He’s definitely more traditional than I am these days. Troy too. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
At this moment Kimber couldn’t be less concerned with what Troy and Shaun want in a wedding and finds it more than a little irritating that Shaun isn’t available. The night before, she was too tired after getting back from Gabriel’s apartment to do any research, and she had only a few minutes this morning before she needed to get cleaned up. An online search of a few of the names in the bible revealed that nearly all of them were dead and that there are a lot of people with exactly the same names. No fewer than six Kevin Alan Merrills came up, spread across the country. Two in the south seemed to be possibilities. There was a Kevin Merrill who was sentenced for embezzlement in North Carolina, but she had to stop before she could find out anything else.
“Come on.” Diana gestures to the facial booth, where only one woman stands in line. “Your toes and nails are adorable, but let’s sign you up for a facial. It’s too bad Hadley’s not here. She loves a facial, although the technician only uses a little witch hazel and then some lotion on the kids.”
“Poor Hadley.” Kimber doesn’t comment further, certain that if Hadley were her daughter she would be the kind of child who broke plates or set things on fire when she was mad. Still, while she wouldn’t let Kyle see it, the mention of a baby had hurt. It’s always seemed a shame to her that she and Shaun didn’t have a baby. Shaun would’ve been a great dad, even a great divorced dad.
“Let me call Kyle first and see how she is.” Diana takes out her phone. “Dammit, I forgot to turn it back on after the facial.”
Kimber watches and waits, thinking that Diana shows Kyle an awful lot of undeserved consideration. How is that possible, given how demanding he is? She could never be like Diana.
As soon as the phone comes on, it vibrates several times with messages, making Kimber think of the afternoon she woke up in Diana’s guest room. Was it only five days ago? Her life has a new dramatic split: the time before someone took over her house and the time after. It remains to be seen what the rest of the after time will be like. What she’s seen of it so far isn’t very pleasant.
“Oh, that’s ridiculous.” Diana shows Kimber her text message screen. “Look. Kyle says he got a call from security about a break-in at his downtown condo project. That idiot put Hadley—asleep—in his car to go down there. She’s sick! And what if some criminal’s still in the building?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t…” But of course he would.
“God, that man. He has to do everything himself. He’s got ten different people he could call.”
“Why don’t we just leave? We’ve had brunch and seen everything. When did he message?”
Diane slides the notification on the screen. “Almost an hour ago. Maybe we should go downtown and get her.” She presses Kyle’s contact on her phone.
“I bet if we head to the house now, they’ll be there already.” Kimber tries not to sound too eager. The hotel ballroom is full of grandmothers, young mothers, and little girls in bright summer clothes. The children’s delighted screeches long ago put her over the edge. “I’ll get one of those huge cupcakes for Hadley and her gift bag. She can have my gift bag too.”
Diana’s brow clears with relief. “Really? You don’t want a facial?”
“I’m good. Promise.”
Diana sees the fire engines first and makes a little sound of surprise. Kimber looks up from her phone.
“I wonder if there was a brush fire or something.” Diana sits taller in the seat, as though it will help her see farther. All the houses they pass are set back from the road, with plenty of well-manicured copses of trees nearby. “We’ve had so little rain.”
“Probably one of your neighbors. It’s so odd how even old rich people burn yard trimmings like it’s nothing. They should leave it to the professionals.” Kimber feels the need to reassure Diana. No one wants to see fire trucks in their neighborhood.
When the police cars and a wrecker come into view, they stop talking, and Diana’s face turns pale. Her hands grip the steering wheel so hard, Kimber doesn’t know how she’s even turning it.
A township cop stands in the middle of the road, waving a lighted flare to keep them mo
ving past the accident even though the sun is high and the emergency vehicles are in plain sight.
Diana sighs. “It’s the stupid break in the guardrail. Somebody came down the hill and around the curve too fast. I’ve told Kyle someone will end up going through there and get killed, but he won’t call our association about it. I mean we all own the road. We have a vested interest in making sure it’s safe.”
“Probably some drunk teenager.”
“Of course it is.” Diana’s voice is a whisper. She slows the car as they approach the cop and puts down the window. From a hundred feet beyond him comes the grinding sound of the powerful winch bringing a vehicle out of the deep, tree-filled ditch. The radio on the cop’s shoulder spouts occasional bits of terse conversation about a dog wandering on the highway.
“What happened? Was anybody hurt?”
“A sedan clipped the railing and hit a tree. Two people have been taken to the hospital.”
Kimber leans forward to see the cop better. He’s heavyset with protruding eyes and a nose that’s slightly bumpy and askew, as though it’s been broken more than once. “Did it happen last night? Did someone just find it?”
“No, ma’am. I believe it happened earlier today.” The ma’am makes Kimber feel about a hundred years old, but she knows it’s not the time for vanity. He addresses Diana. “We need to keep this lane clear.”
Kimber thanks him and nudges Diana’s elbow. “Let’s go. Hadley’s probably awake, and the cupcake will cheer her up.”
They pull away, past the men staring down into the ditch, watching what the wrecker cables are bringing up.
Panicked chatter spills from Diana. “There’s Stan Tucker. Look! Our neighbor, Stan Tucker. Where’s his car? Did he walk all the way down here? That man. He must be seventy, but he jogs all the time on this road. Why does he do that?” She parks the car opposite an older man clad in expensive neon green and orange running gear, who stands talking to a female county cop.
“Who is it, Stan? What happened?”
Diana is out and running across the road before Kimber can stop her. Does Diana know something she doesn’t? From the moment they saw the fire trucks, Diana seemed to think something was seriously wrong. Now Kimber is worried.
As Stan recognizes Diana, the look on his face changes from concern to horror. Kimber can tell he’s speaking but can’t hear him as he raises his hands, warning Diana away.
Diana freezes in the road, her slender body jerking, once, like a television zombie. Then she runs to where the wrecker idles, the sound of her sandals on the pavement swallowed by the grinding of the winch. The men don’t notice her at first, and by the time Kimber reaches her, Diana is straining forward, almost defying gravity as she opens her arms, beseeching, for the car inching its way up the hillside.
Kyle’s car. Kyle’s car with its rear window shattered badly enough that—even from a distance—they can see the blanket with embroidered daisies hanging limply by one corner like the forgotten flag of a fairy-tale kingdom.
On the dented rear quarter panel there’s a ragged streak of orange paint.
Chapter Thirty-Five
What’s taking so long? I thought they said she was stable.” Kimber paces a section of the surgical waiting area in Mercy Hospital, her newly painted nails digging into her palms.
My fault. My fault.
“Why does she suddenly need surgery?”
“She’s small,” Gabriel says. “Trauma in a child—well, trauma to anyone’s body can change dramatically from minute to minute.”
“They said she was stable. They shouldn’t let it go backward.”
“Listen, at least they’re letting you know. They don’t have to because you’re not family.”
Kimber gestures in the direction of the emergency area. “Diana’s in there all alone. What about Kyle’s surgery? Diana shouldn’t have to be by herself.” Spotting a county cop in uniform carrying a cup of coffee out in the hallway, Kimber calls “Hey!” after him. Gabriel puts a hand on her arm, but she brushes him off as she hurries away, barely avoiding a woman entering the waiting area with a bag of fast food.
“Hey, you were at the accident with the little girl and her dad, right?”
The cop, a fiftyish black man with a blunt chin and small eyes, stops. “Yeah. You were there with the girl’s mother.”
“I think I know who did it. Who forced them off the road.”
“What makes you think someone pushed them off the road?”
“I saw the side of the car. You can’t tell me you guys didn’t see it.”
“Ms.…?”
“My name is Kimber Hannon.” She tells him the name of the radio station where she works, hoping it will buy her credibility if he thinks she might also be a reporter. But it backfires.
“You’ll have to talk to the press officer at headquarters, Ms. Hannon. I can’t give you any details.” He nods to her and starts to walk away.
“Wait! Please.”
He stops, but his look says he’s only tolerating her.
“They’re my friends. The little girl and her parents. I saw orange paint on the car. There was orange paint, right?”
“I can’t say, ma’am. But I’m interested to know why you think you know something about it.”
Gabriel steps close to Kimber and speaks quietly. “This really isn’t the place, Kimber.” He gestures to the half-full waiting area behind them. “We can set up a time for you to go in and make a more formal statement.”
“So we should let him get away with it? He almost killed a six-year-old child. For all we know, she might actually die. This is way beyond being a trespasser in my house.” And a blackmailer—those goddamn pictures. What is he waiting for? He still hasn’t told her what he wants. She half expects him to pop out of a doorway or from behind her car. The waiting is torture.
The cop looks at Gabriel, then back at Kimber. “There’s a room down the hallway we can use.” He looks at his watch. “I’ll give you ten minutes.”
“Wait here, Gabriel. Please? In case Diana or a nurse comes out, okay?”
“As your lawyer…”
Kimber is already following the cop down the subdued vanilla-and-tan hallway.
Exactly eleven minutes later, she’s back, talking in a loud voice well before she reaches Gabriel, drawing glares from an older couple sitting with a teenage boy wearing expensive headphones. She couldn’t care less what they think. “He says they have to look at the car, but it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t believe a word I told him. He says that even if there is orange paint, it could be a coincidence and maybe someone was just trying to pass Kyle on the curve.”
Gabriel gets up and pulls her gently to a chair to make her sit. “You didn’t go into everything else, did you? Your suspicions about Jenny and the stolen social security number? You were going to wait on the social security thing.”
“I told him everything I could think of, and I swear he thought I was crazy. He says there’s no reason to think this has anything to do with me.”
“He’s got a point. You don’t have any proof about the paint, and it was probably just a horrible coincidence. They happen.”
“There have been too many coincidences this week. It’s getting too damn weird.”
The older woman coughs.
“I think we’re upsetting these people.”
“They need to grow up.” Kimber shoots the older woman an ugly look. There are three people in this hospital she’s worried about. A child like Hadley shouldn’t ever, ever be made to suffer. Hadley is innocence. Hadley is light. The thought that she’s somewhere in the building, perhaps broken beyond repair or survival, makes her feel nauseated. Helpless, once again. “Gabriel, I want to do something.”
“The hospital is doing what it’s supposed to be doing. Be here for Diana. Be her friend.”
Helpless isn’t a thing Kimber is good at. She closes her eyes and rests her head on the wall behind her.
“Here comes somebody.”
> “What?” Kimber opens her eyes. A male doctor in scrubs has come into the waiting room, and she gets excited for a moment, but he goes to the older couple and invites them into one of the small, private rooms. Kimber deflates, her shoulders sagging.
Gabriel puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. Grateful, she lets her head rest on him and closes her eyes again, listening to the conversations around them and the subdued announcements occasionally interrupting the New Age music coming from the speakers in the ceiling. They wait.
Chapter Thirty-Six
As soon as Hadley stabilizes again and Kyle is out of surgery for his punctured lung, Kimber gets a text from Diana asking her to pick up a few things from the house. Gently rejecting Gabriel’s offer of help, she sends him home.
The door of the garage bay where Kyle parks his car gapes open, a clue to how much of a hurry he must have been in. Pulling the Mini inside, she experiences a superstitious shudder and backs out again to leave the car in the driveway. Discovering the door to the mudroom unlocked only makes her more paranoid. Diana and Kyle, secure in their comfortable, wealthy nook of the county, don’t worry about intruders. They don’t even have an alarm system.
Yet bad things still happen to them.
Bad things I’ve brought on.
One bad thing after another.
Inside, the familiar house feels foreign, like a house belonging to strangers, or one that’s been suddenly abandoned. It could be an empty house, ready for sale. Kimber walks through it quietly, almost reverently, wishing she had let Gabriel come with her when he offered.
Hearing movement upstairs, she tenses. Mr. Tuttle’s square, furry face appears at the top of the stairs, and she gives a nervous laugh.
“Come here. How are you, Mr. Tuttle?” He scoots down the stairs, his four tiny legs only long enough to take the stairs one at a time. She picks him up. “Lonely, huh? It’s awfully quiet in here.”
She carries him back upstairs with her, and once they reach Hadley’s room, he tries to jump out of her arms, so she puts him down. Together they go to Hadley’s unmade bed. The sheets and blanket are rumpled, the pillow still has the impression of her small head. Hadley seems unreal to her, as though she’s already dead. Already dead. Picking up a worn fabric doll lying half off the pillow, Kimber tucks it under one arm. Diana didn’t ask for it, but it feels right, especially when she remembers the blanket in the window of the wrecked car.
The Stranger Inside Page 18
