“I’m calling 91—” Lily began.
“And here’s more good news,” Cassie interrupted. She tilted her head, the center of attention.
Lily could almost hear herself breathing. Even the next-door robins stopped their grubby pursuits.
“The world thinks you’re already dead,” Cassie went on, “so now I can kill you for real. And it won’t even count.”
With a flap of wings, the robins fluttered away.
“Cassie.” Lily took a careful step, approaching. “Honey. Don’t.”
“Why not?” Cassie widened her eyes, all innocence. “Who’d have killed him? Cassie Atwood? That poor girl is long gone. Years and years ago. Presumed dead. Right, Jem?”
“They’ll track you down in thirty fricking seconds,” Banning said.
“Oh, you think?” Cassie’s pale eyebrows went up. “Track me down? Good luck with that, asshole. You and your goons haven’t found me for twenty-five years. You don’t even know my name.”
Even Lily saw Banning look at Cassie’s car.
“No license plate,” Cassie said. “That’s why I was late. I stopped to take it off.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Banning began, his voice wheedling and persuasive. “Kirkhalter told me it was the only way to—if I got caught, he’d get caught.”
“Kirkhalter was dirty? In on it? A drug dealer?” Cassie’s eyes narrowed.
Lily could almost see her sister’s mind at work.
“Kirkhalter—pretended you were dead?” Cassie went on. “How did he even—oh my god, how does anyone—he stole my life. And my family’s. Blamed me. To save his disgusting drug-dealing lying self. And to save you.”
Lily understood, too. They’d used Cassie. Manipulated her. Erased her. No wonder Kirkhalter had been so harsh and dismissive when Lily had gone to see him. Lily was the reminder that the aging cop had trashed the justice he’d once vowed to uphold. That he was a drug dealer and a criminal and a relentless liar. Every word Lily said that afternoon, every tear she’d cried, had twisted the knife.
“You left me in that apartment, you incredible bitch,” Banning retorted. “You left me to die. And then I had to disappear, too! I’ve waited and waited, waited for the moment I could make you pay for ruining my life. Don’t you see how—”
“Shut. Up. Ruin your life? Yours? You two hideous self-serving creeps decided to sacrifice me—sacrifice me—”
Lily saw her sister’s shoulders straighten. Her chin went up.
“Well, now it’s your turn, isn’t it?” Cassie said. “What goes around—”
“Honey?” Lily kept her voice quiet as if soothing an angry child. “It’s okay. Don’t shoot him. We’ll work it all out. You’re home now. And you, Banning. Duggan. Whoever. Don’t move.”
“Lily’s always right,” Greer said. She and her gun inched closer to Banning. “Everyone knows that.”
“Don’t. Anyone. Move.” Lily tapped at her phone. “This is over. Cops are on the way.”
CHAPTER 67
LILY
“That’s her. Sitting at the picnic table.” Lily pointed across the grassy riverbank, past the cattails and the long grass, past the gently flowing iridescent water, where Rowen and Sam Prescott sat side by side, looking at a book. Sam had called while she and Cassie and Greer watched the three police cars drive away, and he’d agreed to hang out with Rowen a bit longer. They’d found Watertown Bookshop, he’d said, and told Lily they’d be fine and reading by the Charles whenever she got there.
Cassie stood next to her on the still spring-muddy shoreline, shading her eyes from the last of the afternoon sun. “What a cutie. Rowen, I mean.”
Lily had known the minute she read the text from Tosca Manukian this afternoon that Banning was a fraud. And that meant Sam Prescott had been used by him, too. They’d all been part of his scheme to lure Cassie from hiding. To put Cassie back into Banning’s—Jem Duggan’s—sights.
It had taken the police less than two minutes to arrive.
“None of you move!” The first cop had arrived, approaching cautiously, weapon drawn.
Lily imagined what he must have thought, two women holding guns on a guy in the middle of a suburban driveway. Her clutching a phone.
“I’m Li—” she began.
“Miss Atwood!” The cop had planted himself in front of her. Weapon pointed at the threesome in front of him. “Get behind that Jeep. Are you okay?”
“That man threatened to kill us,” Lily said over the officer’s shoulder. “And to kidnap the woman on the left. She’s my sister, and she’s holding a licensed registered weapon. The other woman has his own gun. He had it to her head, but we—”
“She was about to kill me!” Banning cocked his head at Cassie.
“No, I wasn’t,” Cassie said. “Why would I do that?”
“Tell us about it at the station, sir,” the officer said. A second officer and then a third had arrived, cars screeching to the curb, doors slamming, cops running. “Ms. Atwood, are you okay?” one asked. “You and your friends?”
“Yes, of course, thank you so much.” She read his name tag. “Officer Nguyen. And for coming so quickly. It’s all because of a big story I’ve been working on. This is my producer. And like I said, my sister.”
“Hey! Officers. These bitches are lying.” Banning’s face had gone dark with anger. “Why don’t you arrest them?”
“Because this is Lily Atwood,” Officer Nguyen said.
Lily could still hear the sound of the handcuffs clicking onto Banning’s wrist.
“Why didn’t you kill me in the first place, Jem? At Berwick?” Cassie had put her gun back into her tote bag and stood, seething, focused on Banning. “Why didn’t you just come after me then? You knew I’d seen your—”
“Damn Kirkhalter told me he already had.” Banning almost spit out the words. “He said, ‘I’ve dealt with her.’ That he’d ‘handled’ you. And then you were gone. What else was I supposed to think? I thought you were long dead. And good riddance.”
“Kirkhalter?” Cassie frowned. “Detective Kirkhalter said that?”
“Let’s go.” Officer Nguyen held Banning, one hand on his shoulder, one on the handcuffs behind his back.
“Can we hear this, Officer? Please?” Lily knew this was the only moment they might be able to get the real story.
“Who do you think I called that day in the apartment?” Banning said. “I knew you’d seen the stuff, and thanks for not calling for help, by the way. You being such a coward was the only thing that made this work. Kirkhalter and I got me the hell out of there and announced I was dead. Kirkhalter told me he’d blame you for it, Cassie, and get rid of you, too. So I thought you were no threat. But then he got that letter. And told me. As soon as I read it, I knew you were still a problem. What a damn moron. What a freaking wimp. And he refused to tell me where you were.”
“But Kirkhalter died in a—” Lily began.
“Problem was, after that, I had no way to find you, Cassie,” Banning said. “But I could find you, couldn’t I, Lily? I could use you as bait and help your beloved sister find you. And I’d be here when she did. I figured Cassie would recognize me the minute she saw me. But whatever. She wouldn’t have much time to think about it. You either. And the person who killed you both? Well, that was no one who existed. Case closed.”
“We have to take him now, ma’am,” Officer Nguyen said. “We’ll be in touch. We know where to contact you, of course.”
“You should have stayed gone, Cassie.” Banning—Jem Duggan—spat the words as he was escorted into the back seat of the cruiser. “You’re such a—”
But whatever he said was slammed away by the closing door.
“I’m so sorry, Cass, I feel horrible about this,” Lily said now as they walked toward the picnic bench.
“You couldn’t have known.” Cassie touched her shoulder. “That’s fame, I guess, Lily. It’s great until it isn’t.”
Their strides matched in the newly green g
rass and scatter of dandelions.
“D’you think Banning—I mean Duggan—killed Kirkhalter?” Cassie asked. “Caused the crash somehow?”
“We’ll probably never find out,” Lily said. “But Kirkhalter was part of the drug thing. And the apparently-dispensable Zachary Shaw, too, who they got you to throw under the bus. Wonder how many real deaths those three were responsible for.”
“Yeah. And it has to be true,” Cassie said. “Like I told you in the car, I did hear Jem—Jeremy—calling someone that day. The only other person who could have known that was the person he called. Kirkhalter. A dirty cop.” She drew in a breath. “Oh. D’you think he paid for me, all these years, with drug money?”
They took a few more steps, side by side, along the riverbank.
“You paid,” Lily finally said. “You spent your life hiding. After he made you feel guilty for a murder that never happened.”
Cassie stopped at the water’s edge, turned to her. “Yeah,” she said. “But you’ve saved me from that now, little Lillow.”
“Mumma!” Rowen’s voice carried across the water.
CHAPTER 68
GREER
Everyone has something now, I thought as I stashed the last of my notebooks into the brown cardboard box I’d taken from the Channel 6 mail room. Everyone has their happy ending. Lily, Sam, Cassie, Rowen. Everyone but me.
I’d write my resignation letter, keep it brief and unspecific. New job opportunities elsewhere, I’d say. Television was a nomadic business. No one would care.
Especially not Lily.
For her, I’d left a sealed envelope with a note inside. I’m sorry, I’d written. I had no idea what else to say.
I spooled out a breath, looking at my now-empty bulletin board, the scatter of paper clips on my desk. My black WE CAN DO IT mug taunted me from inside that cardboard box and rolled onto its side as I hefted my possessions. Then I put the box down again.
And sat in Lily’s chair.
My knees still hurt from that driveway.
Because of Lily.
From when I’d had a gun held to my head. From when I’d almost been killed. I could still feel that circle of metal on my scalp, still feel the hot breath of that—person, who’d found my one vulnerability; that I understood my job, and would do it no matter what. To keep Lily perfect, to protect her—and look, I’m not saying I wasn’t trying to protect my own career, too, I’ll own that—but everything I’d done, everything, was to protect Lily. Perfect Lily.
I’d saved her damn toxic sister. I’d risked my life, my damn life, for that woman.
Lily wasn’t so perfect when I’d arrived in Boston, was she? Had I ever taken any credit? No. Not one moment of applause, not one sparkly watt of spotlight was aimed at me, and that was fine. I was her producer, and I’d produced her perfect life. And now where was I?
Alone in some crappy office in a crappy local TV station, as if that was the pinnacle of success. There were a million Lily Atwoods out there, a million Lilys who only wanted to be perfect and famous and have someone do all the work while they took all the credit.
How many of them, I thought as I stared at my cardboard box, how many of them had a producer who was devoted enough to almost get killed for them?
And as if it were such a hideous betrayal to help a little girl see her own father. I’d only tried to make poor Rowen’s life perfect, too, but oh, no, all I got was that Lily look as she turned her back on me.
She should have thanked me. But, of course, why start now?
Someone else would thank me, though. I could so easily find someone else’s life to produce. Some Lily-to-be in some other city. Someone who’d be grateful for my wisdom. Lily wouldn’t dare say a word against me.
I stood, and with both hands, took the container with the white orchid from Lily’s desk. I walked out the office door and down the corridor, silent and alone, deliberate as a bride carrying her bouquet. Then, in one motion, I dumped the orchid into the big blue wastebasket at the end of the hall. Heard the whump as the ceramic container hit the bottom.
Back at the threshold to our—her—office, I surveyed the room one last time.
That white envelope on Lily’s desk, my apology, almost mocked me.
I’m sorry, I’d written. What a lie. Lily’s the one who should be sorry.
I picked up the envelope and tore it in half. And then tore it again and again and again and again.
I tossed the tiny pieces into the air like so much confetti. The bits of paper floated, silent, to the floor, a puzzle of paper that could never be reconstructed.
And I walked away.
CHAPTER 69
LILY
“That’s Val,” Lily explained as she and Cassie came into the entryway. The dog was snuffling around Cassie as if she had a dog treat in every pocket. “And this is Petra, who helps me with Rowen and everything else in the world, and who won’t, at least, jump on you like the silly dog. Down, Val. Petra, this is my sister, Cassie.”
“Val’s just excited, Aunt Cassie,” Rowen said. “I kind of know how she feels. Mumma, is Aunt Cassie staying with us?”
“Nice to meet you,” Petra said.
“You, too,” Cassie said. She scratched behind Val’s ears. “Good pooch.”
“Can we handle two more for dinner, Pet? Or we can all get takeout.” Lily peeked out her front window, saw what must be Sam’s Uber pull up to the curb. He’d gone back to the house on the corner to get his belongings, a police officer with him to make sure nothing else was touched. Or dangerous.
Police were keeping Jeremy Duggan in custody, Officer Nguyen called her to report. They’d discovered where he’d been this morning. Shopping.
“In his car, we found bags with clothing for a little girl,” Nguyen told her. “Dresses, underwear, pajamas. And a pink suitcase. He’d bought each thing at a different store.”
Lily had felt the blood drain from her face.
“Did he have plans to travel with a child? If you know?” Nguyen asked.
“My daughter—he’d arranged for her to…” Lily’s knees had almost failed her. Banning—she still thought of him as Banning—had maneuvered Greer to deliver Rowen straight to his door. Would he have used her as a pawn? To force Lily to choose between handing over her sister and saving her daughter?
They were all chess pieces to him—Lily, Rowen, Sam, Greer—to manipulate however he needed to get to Cassie. Get back at her. If Lily hadn’t arrived first, he might have traumatized a little girl.
And in the end, the wolf was there.
“You’re not letting him out, are you?” Lily asked.
“Not a chance,” Nguyen had said. “Assault with a deadly weapon. Possession of a loaded firearm. Attempted murder, in my book. Stalking, too. Admitted he’s watched your house. Something about seeing a flower delivery?” Officer Nguyen had said. Lily’d heard the mockery in his voice. “He’ll stay behind bars all weekend, done deal. After that? Well, once you testify, he’s in for good. Like I said. You’re Lily Atwood. We’ll need to talk with you, of course, but not until Monday. You and your sister okay, ma’am?”
“Lily?” Petra was saying. “Two more?”
Lily pointed out the window. “My friend Sam just arrived.”
“No problem.” Petra saluted her with a wooden spoon. “I made enough lasagna for weeks.”
“Yay.” Rowen clapped her hands. “This has been such a perfect day, Mumma,” she said. “We had a snow day with no snow, and Aunt Cassie is here, and I got to meet Sam, and see ducks, and now we have lasagna. Awesome.”
She’d retrieved her school backpack and Antarctica book from Greer’s car. “I’m taking my stuff up to my room. Can Sam finish reading me the Antarctica book? Pleeeease? C’mon, Val.”
“It depends.” Lily understood how much those two words might mean, how much depended on what happened next. She looked out the window again. The sun was beginning to set, and she saw Sam standing on her flagstone front walk, suitcase in hand, star
ing at the front of her house. She knew what he was seeing; the tender-leafed weeping willow, the yellow tulips, the white fence around the backyard. A home. He had one of his own, too, a happy one, out in Colorado. And he’d have to leave here soon. “We’ll have to ask Sam.”
“You were just like that,” Cassie said to Lily as the little girl and her dog trotted upstairs. “Always so enthusiastic. You loved everything.” She took a deep breath, let it out as she looked around. “Oh, the lilies. I was worried I got the wrong address from my web search. You did get them.”
Lily thought about Smith, how disturbed she’d been about those flowers when they first arrived. “Thank you,” Lily said. “Long story about those. And oh—the stuffed Penny. Thank you. You made me cry, Cass. Rowen still has the original. It’s her most precious thing.”
The two sisters stood in the entryway, the music from the kitchen behind them, footsteps of girl and dog upstairs, and Lily wondered if time could ever stop, or slow, or moments be preserved forever. How families ebbed and flowed, but somehow, if they were lucky and patient—well, maybe that’s what a perfect life truly required. Time and patience. And understanding.
“I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” Lily began. She caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror—makeup long gone, mascara cried away, hair in disarray, a streak of dirt on her jacket, and it didn’t matter. “I looked and looked for you—” She heard how inadequate that was. And how, although once true, she could never let Cassie know how much she’d once hoped her sister would stay away.
“You’re—okay, Cass? Happy?” Whatever happiness meant. It was impossible to know what to say. Impossible to understand the decisions her sister had made. And what had been done to her. “Have you ever thought about suing—someone? Sam’s a lawyer; he could help. And I’m definitely calling Tosca Manukian. I can’t do a story about this, but she can. It’s outrageous.”
“It is what it is, Lily.” Cassie’s smile was rueful and accepting. “Tosca Manukian. How well I remember. Listen, we can talk about it all later. From what you told me in the car—you’ve got something more urgent to deal with.”
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