The Last Time I Saw You

by Liv Constantine

  One of the last days before her mother left was a Saturday, and her father had been at the dealership. Shaina had made pancakes for breakfast—a treat usually reserved for special occasions. Her eyes had been bright, her long copper hair piled on top of her head, and she’d run around the house excitedly. After breakfast, she’d called Blaire into her bedroom.

  “Sweetie, can you keep a secret?”

  Blaire had nodded.

  “I ran into an old beau of mine last night at the grocery store.”

  “What’s a beau?”

  Shaina had laughed. “An old boyfriend. Your mama has lots of those. Anyhow, he knows some connected folks in Hollywood. I need you to take some pictures of me to send to him, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Shaina had handed her a camera. “Look through here and click.” She’d shown Blaire how to use it.

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Her mother struck a seductive pose, her red lips in a pout. She reclined on the bed, one hand on her hip, the other behind her head. As she changed poses, Blaire kept clicking away.

  “Come here, let’s take one together,” Shaina said. Blaire turned the camera around and snapped one.

  When they’d finished, she put everything away.

  “Now listen, honey. Not a word to Daddy. He doesn’t understand. But Mama is meant for greater things. California is waiting for me. Promise not a word.”

  Confused and nervous, Blaire had nodded. “Okay, Mama. But can I go with you?”

  Shaina had smiled. “Absolutely. Not at first, of course. I have to get settled. But I’ll come back for you, don’t you worry.”

  Two weeks later, her mother was gone, but she’d forgotten the camera. Not knowing its contents, her father had had the roll of film developed. When he looked through the sleeve of photos, he shook his head in disgust and began ripping them in two. Blaire stayed silent until she saw him come to the picture of her with her mother. She put a hand on his. “Stop, Daddy. I want that one.”

  He’d given her a sad look. “Of course, honey.” It was the last picture she ever took with her mother. Now, she realized what a horrible and selfish thing her mother had done. But for a long time, that photo was her most cherished possession.

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  15

  The next day, Kate balled up the Yale sweatshirt and threw it into the kitchen trash. She knew that wearing it would only remind her of the danger she was in. They still had no leads on the texts or email. All of a sudden, it occurred to her that this person might have done the same thing to her mother before he killed her. Over the years, there’d been the occasional crank sending an angry letter or email, but they’d all been empty threats—except for the one incident that Lily had tried to keep from all of them. It was in the spring of Kate’s senior year of high school, and Blaire was living with them by then. Kate heard the door chime in the middle of the night. She peeked into Blaire’s room, but she was sound asleep. Kate had gone downstairs to see Lily tiptoeing down the hallway. Her hair was a mess, and she looked exhausted.

  “Mother, where were you?”

  “I had to take care of something,” she’d whispered. “Everything’s fine. Go back to bed.”

  A month later, the summons to appear in court came to the house. Her father happened to be home when the certified notice came, and signed for it.

  “What’s this?” he’d asked as he handed the official-looking document to Lily.

  Kate had watched quietly as her mother’s face turned red. “I was going to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “It was last month. You were at the hospital. Margo called late at night. She asked me to pick her up.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  Her mother sighed. “Her husband had hit her. When he was asleep, she called and asked me to get her,” she rushed on, “By the time I got there, he’d awakened and pulled a gun on us.”

  “What?” Kate’s father exploded. “She should have called the police, not you.”

  Lily shook her head. “She had before. It never did any good. She just wanted to go . . . get to a safe house that night.”

  Kate had run over to her. “Mother! He could have killed you!”

  She waved them both off. “A neighbor heard the yelling and called nine-one-one. The police got there soon after I arrived, and arrested him, so I have to testify.”

  It was one of the few times Kate had seen her father angry.

  “I can’t believe you kept this from me!” Harrison had shouted. “You could have been killed! What were you thinking, going out in the middle of the night by yourself?”

  “I’m fine. Everything worked out. And now he’s in jail.”

  “It is not fine,” he’d roared. “You know as well as I do how dangerous those men are. You are not invincible, no matter what you think. You have to promise me never to do anything like that again.”

  Lily had promised, but Kate could tell it was lip service. Her mother was always going to do whatever her heart dictated in the moment. That’s the way she was.

  So it wouldn’t be that far-fetched to think that she’d been getting creepy threats and had chosen to keep them to herself. Even though Kate was sure the police had scoured her mother’s emails and phone records, she still made a mental note to mention it to Detective Anderson. If this was indeed the case, how long would it be before things escalated from texts and emails to the killer actually coming for her?

  She walked over to the bookcase and pulled out a photo album, something she hadn’t done since Lily’s death. She smiled at a picture of her mother and grandmother and remembered the kind and quiet woman who always made her feel special. Each summer she would go and spend a week alone with Grandmother at her summer home on the Maine coast, and they would kayak and swim in the freezing cold water during the day and have marathon card-playing sessions each night. Kate’s mother had had an especially close relationship with Grandmother. She remembered Harrison talking about a time during their engagement when Lily had spent months in Maine nursing her mother back to health after she’d had an unexpected heart attack in her late forties, cooking for her and making sure she was taking it easy. They’d even postponed the wedding by a few months so she was fully recovered. He’d said it was one of the things he admired most about his wife—her devotion to her family.

  She returned the album to the shelf and went to the kitchen, pausing for a moment as one of the security detail walked back to his post in the hallway. Even though she was glad that Simon had stationed four guards around the estate, it felt like such an invasion, these silent sentinels who were strangers to her, as though there was nowhere she could be truly on her own. But what was even worse was that she was now terrified to be on her own. She picked up her cell phone and dialed her father. He answered on the first ring.

  “I was just going to call you,” he said.

  “Dad, I’m sorry for yesterday, but we need to talk. I have to know what’s going on. It’s driving me crazy.” She felt bad about the way she’d treated him, practically kicking him out of her house, and wanted to give him another chance to tell her what he and Lily had fought about. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  He took a minute to answer, then spoke in measured tones. “Your mother had lied to me about something that happened a very long time ago, and she had just told me the truth. I was shocked and, well, to say upset would be an understatement.” He paused, clearing his throat, and continued. “However, what she told me has nothing whatsoever to do with you, and out of respect for your mother, I’m not going to divulge it to you. I hope that you know me well enough to respect my decision.”

  Kate’s mouth dropped open. “That’s it? Really?” She stood up and began to pace, gripping the phone tighter. “Are you going to divulge the details to Detective Anderson?”

  “Yes. I’m going to call him this af
ternoon.”

  “Very well, then. I guess we have nothing more to discuss right now.” She ended the call.

  Kate sat alone for a while, trying to put together the pieces. What had happened to make her mother call Gordon about changing the will? It must have had something to do with whatever they had fought about. Why had he told her that her mother had lied? What was he trying to keep from her now? None of it was adding up. Everyone was hiding things. She felt her anxiety increasing, her mind concocting scenario after scenario. That night at dinner with Annabelle and Simon, she was barely able to hold a conversation. Her mind was racing, and she couldn’t figure out how to stop it. At a little after seven thirty, she put Annabelle to bed, and continued to stew. She made a cup of tea and went into the living room.

  What if her father had been seeing someone else, and her mother found out and threatened to divorce him? She thought back to the day her mother insisted she make Simon sign a prenup. Her mother had made it a point to tell Kate that Harrison had signed one too. If they divorced, he’d lose millions. But still, he made plenty of money in the medical practice, and she knew he’d invested wisely over the years. She shook her head. But what had they argued about that would have made her want to change her will?

  She felt as if her mind was spinning out of control. She’d worked so hard to tame it, to have a game plan for every day. Kate missed being in the operating room. She was in charge in her OR. Strong, competent, assured. Yes, there were sometimes surprises in surgery, but she never panicked, was calmness personified, her anxiety left in the scrub room. She trained hard for it, and had a plan for every contingency. But in the real world, where nothing was organized and ordered, it was a different story. She couldn’t let herself fall apart again

  Simon came into the room, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m just going to run to the office to pick up some drawings. I’m going to work from home the rest of the week. With everything that’s going on, I’ll feel better being here.”

  She looked at him with suspicion. “It’s getting late. You’re leaving now? Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “It’ll just be easier to get it out of the way tonight.”

  Or maybe he was meeting someone whose name started with an S. “Right.”

  He gave her a concerned look. “I’m trying to be supportive. I’ve got an early call, and I need those drawings beforehand. Otherwise I’ll have to go into the office tomorrow morning, and once I’m there, it will be hard to extract myself. I won’t be long.”

  “Fine.”

  After he left, she peeked into Annabelle’s room and watched her for a few minutes. She loved to see her child sleep, so angelic and sweet. Kate’s heart ached at the thought of not being able to see her precious little girl grow up. Suddenly, running to the bed, she scooped her up. Annabelle started to stir. “Shhh, it’s okay. Come sleep in Mommy’s room,” Kate soothed her, and within a few minutes, she was back asleep in Kate’s four-poster bed. Kate beckoned to the guard in the hall.

  “Alan, I want you to guard my bedroom. No one is to come in. Do you understand? Not my father, not my husband, not the nanny. No one.”

  If he was surprised, his face didn’t show it. “Of course.”

  She locked the door and pushed one of the wing chairs across the room and against it for good measure. She’d go online tomorrow and find some kind of door alarm too. She wasn’t about to have anyone surprise her.

  She needed to do something to try and calm herself down, but what? When she was a small child, Lily had affectionately referred to her as her little worrier. It was impossible for someone whose mind didn’t operate that way to understand how debilitating anxiety could be. Whether it was stressing out over schoolwork or worrying about wearing the right outfit to a party, it seemed like she was always overthinking things. One of her earliest memories was her asking Lily how she was sure Santa wouldn’t get hurt coming down the chimney. It wasn’t until Kate became a teenager that her fears started getting worse. She’d lie awake in bed when her parents were out, unable to fall asleep until she heard the chime of the door alarm and knew they’d gotten home safely. Her imagination would run away with her as she envisioned them killed in a car accident or assaulted by a criminal. She’d toss and turn, trying everything to clear her mind of the horrible scenarios it concocted. Then they’d come home safe and sound, and she’d feel foolish—until the next time.

  Even though nothing bad had happened, her happiness was tempered by the feeling that she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She would lie awake, imagining disaster. Then she learned that if she did math in her head, it helped to fall asleep at night, her mind too occupied by equations to churn out unlikely, terrifying scenarios.

  Blaire was the first person Kate had confided the extent of her anxiety to, one night toward the end of their first year at Mayfield. She was sleeping over, and they were lying in the dark, the house quiet, spilling secrets.

  “Do you ever worry about something happening to your dad? Especially with your being so far away?” Kate had asked.

  “Not really. What does my being far away have to do with it?”

  “Well, um, I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t want to go to school . . . I’m afraid something will happen to my mother if I’m gone.”

  She heard Blaire shift next to her. “Something bad?”

  Kate sighed. “Yeah. It’s like when we’re all together, I feel safe and good. But when I’m at school, I think about all the stuff she does and how she’s out all the time. Like my dad is at work, and I guess I’m used to that. But my mom helps all those women whose husbands hurt them. What if they hurt her? Do you think I’m weird?”

  Blaire reached over and took her hand in the dark. “Of course not. I understand that. But nothing’s going to happen to her. She’s too good of a person.”

  “How do you know?” Kate asked.

  “Because. The world needs people like your mom. You just need to push the thought away.” She looked up. “Let’s see. Maybe we can think of something. You need a way to distract yourself.”

  “What will that do?”

  “You’ll stop yourself from focusing on the worry. You’ll say it, and after a while you’ll believe it.”

  She’d give it a try. They came up with their counting rhyme, and surprisingly, it had worked. At least most of the time. Then Kate joined the track team, got involved in more extracurricular activities, and before she knew it, she was too tired to worry—much. And Blaire was always there as a sounding board when she did. But by the time Kate was a freshman in high school, her therapist diagnosed her with generalized anxiety disorder and suggested she take medication. She’d noticed a difference right away. She wasn’t obsessing over things anymore, not getting stuck like she used. For the first time in a long time she felt like she wasn’t walking around with a shadow over her. But after Jake died, everything changed.

  Her fear of losing her mother had finally come true. It had taken many years, but part of her brain told her she was right in having been worried all that time. And of course, the accident that had taken Jake away was something she hadn’t seen coming. Now, Kate could see Annabelle standing at Kate’s graveside, sad and confused, while mourners threw roses on her coffin. Was her fear of leaving Annabelle motherless going to come true as well?

  She had to take action. She swiped her phone open and searched “self-defense products.” A variety of stun guns came up. So many choices. She clicked on one at a time, feeling herself begin to settle down as she read the descriptions. She’d talk to Alan and ask him which the best ones were. Now this was something that could help a lot more than a stupid little counting game.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollinsPublishers

  ....................................

  16

  The next day, Blaire stopped to pick up a box of chocolate-covered Berger cookies on the way to Kate’s. Simon greeted her in the front hallway when the guards let her throug
h. When he saw the box, he arched an eyebrow. “Cookies? Don’t know that sugar is what she needs after the night she had.”

  Blaire didn’t really care what he thought. “I guess we’ll let her decide.”

  Simon cocked his head. “I think I know what’s best for my own wife. She’s coming apart, and the last thing she needs is you filling her head with sugar and panicky thoughts while you do your little amateur detective work.”

  “Me filling her head? That’s rich. If I heard right, she kicked you out right before Lily died. So maybe you’re not the best one to tell me what Kate needs.” There was no way she would let Simon come between them again. Blaire had wondered over the years if perhaps she’d been wrong to caution Kate against marrying him. But now she knew in her bones that she’d always been right about him. And her connection to Kate was as strong as it ever had been. In the short time she’d been back, it had felt almost like they hadn’t lost all those years.

  “I’m back,” he said firmly. “And I intend to stay.”

  Blaire laughed. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

  Simon came closer to her, the small box of cookies the only barrier between them. “Listen. If you think I’m going to let you poison Kate’s mind against me, you better think again. I’m the one she needs right now. When she came back to school after the accident, when I first met her, she was still fragile after her breakdown. I’m the one who helped her through. Not you. And I’ll get her through again. You’re not needed here.”