by Anne Hope
“How can you not know? She was sitting right next to you a few minutes ago.”
He shrugged evasively. The television set let out a victorious jingle, and Noah howled in triumph.
Realizing she was getting nowhere, she decided to search the house. The girl couldn’t have gone far. She was probably upstairs in her room playing.
Rebecca mounted the steps. The pitter-patter of the shower echoed from across the hall. The image of Zach standing naked beneath the jets, surrounded by steam, his skin glistening as water sluiced over him, flashed in her mind. There was a time she would have shed her clothing and joined him. Now she just tamped down the thick lump of yearning clogging her windpipe and kept walking.
She stopped to check on Will. He lay in his crib, fast asleep, his tiny hand clutching a yellow blanket. An aura of peace enveloped him. For a moment she stood in the doorway, absorbing the sight of his little face slackened by sleep as blades of light knifed through the horizontal blinds and streaked his skin gold. A different kind of yearning gripped her, and again she walked away.
Kristen’s room was at the end of the hall. She thought back to the day Lindsay had first shown it to her. Her friend had been so excited energy had rippled from her and made the air around her pulse. All Rebecca had managed in response was a stiff smile and the words: “It’s nice. Very…girlie.”
The room hadn’t changed. Gauzy white curtains with pink ribbons hung from the windows. Framed pictures of various Disney princesses adorned the walls. A white canopy bed with pastel-pink linens stretched over a joyful rug sprinkled with tiny flowers. A fuzzy brown teddy bear sat in a miniature wooden rocking chair, surrounded by a slew of stuffed animals of every size, shape and color.
But one thing—or more precisely, person—was missing. Kristen.
Alarm and self-disgust leapt through her. She’d barely been here two hours and she’d already lost one of the children. Where could the girl have gone?
Urgency nipping at her heels, she bolted from the room and scrambled down the stairs. Seconds later she burst into the living room, where Noah still sat, thoroughly enthralled by his game.
“Noah, tell me where your sister went.”
The aggravating boy ignored her.
“Noah!” Worry and frustration spiked her voice.
A pair of annoyed eyes, the same penetrating blue as his uncle’s, looked up at her. “I don’t know. She takes off sometimes.”
Rebecca shook her head, dismayed. “I would have heard the door—”
“She goes out the back. She’s real sneaky. Probably went to visit Mrs. Petrakis again.”
“Who’s Mrs. Petrakis?”
“She lives next door.” Noah gestured to the far-left wall with his head, then promptly got back to his game.
With an exasperated huff, Rebecca darted outside and raced down the front steps. Without stopping to catch her breath, she climbed the neighboring stairs and banged on the door. She’d always wondered how Lindsay had managed to lose all the weight she’d gained with each of her pregnancies so fast. Now she knew. The secret was a hefty measure of fear mixed with adrenaline, coupled with a regular running regime.
The door inched inward, held in place by a security chain, and a friendly looking woman in her early fifties peeked out. “Yes?”
Rebecca wasted no time on niceties. “Is Kristen here?”
“Who would like to know?”
It took all of her self-control not to slide her arm through the crack and shake the woman. “Her aunt. I’m her guardian now. Is she here?”
The neighbor seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to answer. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
“Sorry,” Rebecca said through gritted teeth, “I seem to have left my ID in the house. Look, she was on the couch watching Spongebob five minutes ago. Now I can’t find her. Noah said she probably came to visit you. You are Mrs. Petrakis, right?”
The woman slammed the door in Rebecca’s face, and the blood drained from her cheeks. She clenched her hand and raised it to knock again, when the door swung open.
“She loves Spongebob,” Mrs. Petrakis raved. “It’s her favorite show. She has talked of nothing else since she got here.”
Relief washed over her. She closed her eyes and released the breath she’d been holding. “Thank God.”
“Come in.” Mrs. Petrakis moved aside and extended her arm in welcome. Her home smelled delicious, the air redolent with butter and vanilla. It was obvious that she’d been baking.
She guided Rebecca to the kitchen, where Kristen sat dunking a cookie in an enormous glass of milk. “Hi, Aunt Becca,” the girl said past a mouthful of sodden crumbs.
“Kristen, why did you take off like that? You scared me half to death.”
“I wanted to see Voula.”
Rebecca was momentarily confused. She looked at Mrs. Petrakis, who smiled, her chocolate-brown eyes twinkling. “That’s me. My name is really Paraskevi, which means Friday. But that’s too complicated for most people, so I use the short version, Voula, instead.”
Rebecca couldn’t for the life of her fathom how Voula could be short for a name like Paraskevi, but she took the woman at her word.
“Please let me know before you visit Voula next time,” she admonished the child, who shoved another cookie into her mouth and chased it down with a long gulp of milk.
“Would you like to join us?” Voula offered.
“I’m not sure I can—”
“Of course you can. I was just about to make some coffee.” The neighbor pulled out an ornate cherrywood chair and insisted that she take it.
Rebecca reluctantly folded her body into its gleaming lap, praying Noah would stay put and Will wouldn’t wake up while she was busy socializing with the neighbor.
Voula scurried off and returned with another plate layered with an impressive mound of cookies, which she placed in front of Rebecca as though she expected her to eat every last bite herself. “Try one of my koulourakia,” she urged. “They’re Greek vanilla cookies. Kristen absolutely loves them. She always knows when I’m baking them. I think she can smell them through the wall.”
She trailed soft fingers down Kristen’s hair, bent down and kissed her on the crown of her head with grandmotherly affection. Then the elfin woman scampered off again. That was the only way Rebecca could describe her—elfin. She was petite, no taller than five feet in height, with olive skin and hair the same rich brown as her eyes. She wore a white apron over a pair of beige slacks and a floral-print shirt, all the while flashing a radiant smile that was as welcoming as her sweet-smelling kitchen. There was something very inviting about her, homey and comforting.
Rebecca understood why Kristen liked to seek refuge here. It seemed like nothing bad could happen in this house, where the air was laced with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and this jovial woman hopped about with the energy of a certain pink bunny. Where else could a little girl go to forget her whole world had just come crashing down around her? Where else could she find a ready smile, a soothing touch, a slow, lingering kiss?
She felt guilty for not being the one who could give Kristen the affection she craved, the solace she so desperately needed. What kind of person was she, when she couldn’t bring herself to reach out to a sad little girl in need? There was a time she would have known exactly what to do. A time when these children would have gravitated toward her like moths to a flame. Now she felt awkward around them, so charred inside she could no longer find that special glow within her that would draw them to her.
But Voula had it. She simply radiated with it.
The spirited woman dumped spoonful after spoonful of coffee grains into the percolator as though she were expecting a houseful of guests. Soon the rich, fragrant aroma of coffee mingled with the smell of vanilla and wafted toward Rebecca, making her feel as if she were sitting in some exotic café. For the first time in two weeks the unforgiving tension that clutched her loosened its hold, and she almost relaxed.
Tentatively she picked up one of the cookies and brought it to her lips. It crumbled on her tongue the instant she bit into it. The sweet, buttery flavor that filled her mouth nearly wrenched a contented moan from her. She gazed at the mountain in front of her and realized with growing alarm that she could probably empty the whole plate given half the chance. Her thighs would never forgive her, but her taste buds would dance a happy jig and sing their praises to the heavens.
“Aren’t they yummy?” A milk mustache dripped from Kristen’s top lip.
Rebecca couldn’t help but smile at the child’s enthusiasm. “They’re delicious.”
“Voula makes the best cookies.”
Right on cue, Voula returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. “You say that because you never tasted my mother’s. All the neighborhood kids would gather in her kitchen for a taste of her cookies. We never had an empty house.” Pride and a hint of wistfulness tinged her words.
“Cream and sugar?” she asked Rebecca.
“Just cream, please.”
Voula added a splash of cream to one of the mugs and handed it to her. Rebecca took a hearty swallow, hoping the bitter liquid would wash away the sweet taste in her mouth before she was tempted to snatch another cookie.
Draining the last of her milk, Kristen leapt to her feet. “Can I go play with Kanela now?”
“All right,” Voula replied. “But be careful she doesn’t scratch you.”
“I will.” Kristen bulleted out of the kitchen, soaring on the invisible wings of anticipation.
“Kanela is my cat,” the woman explained. “A beautiful reddish-brown tabby. She was a stray. Every day she came to my door begging for food, so I adopted her. Or should I say she adopted me?”
Voula sank into the opposite chair and took a sip of her coffee after sweetening it with two heaping spoonfuls of sugar. A frown pleated her brows. “Maybe you should get the children a pet. It may help them deal with their loss. Pets have a way of filling the empty spaces in our hearts.”
Rebecca nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. They need to focus their energy on something positive.”
Voula’s jovial expression vanished. “I still can’t believe Lindsay and Liam are gone. I keep thinking, if only I’d knocked on the door a few minutes earlier…”
“You’re the neighbor? The one who interrupted the break-in?”
The woman nodded. “The kids were over at my place earlier that day. Kristen forgot her favorite teddy bear. I figured she might have trouble falling asleep, so I brought it over. I knocked and knocked, but no one answered. I became worried, so I got the spare key Lindsay had given me in case of an emergency.
“I realize now that wasn’t the smartest thing for me to do. I should have just called the police. But I never imagined…” Her voice broke.
Rebecca understood the woman’s pain. She couldn’t chase the what ifs from her brain either. She took a sip of her coffee, suddenly wishing she’d added some sugar to the bitter blend.
“I found them,” Voula confided after a lengthy pause.
A rock fell to settle at the pit of Rebecca’s stomach. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
Voula blinked away tears. “I’m just glad I was there for the children until their uncle came. They had no idea what was going on, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. Noah was so quiet it broke my heart.”
A flood of grief invaded Rebecca’s system, and she closed her eyes to hold it at bay. “I just don’t understand it. Why them?” Liam and Lindsay lived comfortably, but they weren’t rich by any means. “With all the choices out there, why would someone target their home to rob?”
“He wasn’t there to rob them. He was there to kill them.” The certainty with which Voula spoke chilled Rebecca to the bone.
She stiffened. “Why would you think something like that?”
The small woman wrapped her hand around her coffee mug. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. My husband says I watch too many movies, but I can’t shake this feeling I have.” She raised the mug, then reconsidered and put it back down without taking a sip. “I think Liam may have gotten himself into some kind of trouble. He was acting very strangely before he died. He was very…uptight.”
Nostalgia tugged at Rebecca’s heartstrings. “Liam was born uptight.” They’d often teased him for being so serious, bordering on neurotic.
“More than usual. Especially after the car accident.”
“What car accident?”
“You don’t know? A week before the break-in, one of Liam’s tires blew. He nearly died.”
No, she wouldn’t have known because she’d stopped talking to Lindsay ages ago. The guilt returned, hot and blistering.
“Lindsay was worried about him,” Voula continued, oblivious to Rebecca’s inner turmoil. “She and I were friends, so she confided in me. She was concerned her husband may have stumbled into something dangerous. He was quiet, evasive, edgy…”
She tapped her square fingernails nervously against the table. “At first I thought she was deluding herself. Chances were he was having an affair.”
“Impossible. Liam would never cheat on Lindsay.”
The woman nodded. “I know that now. He wasn’t feeling guilty. He was scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Of something happening to his children. A few weeks ago he came to see me. He told me if the kids were here and anyone came knocking on my door, I shouldn’t let them in, even if I recognized them. That’s why I was so reluctant to open the door to you.”
That didn’t sound like an unusual request coming from Liam. As a lawyer he’d been trained to be suspicious. The world could be a treacherous place. It seemed perfectly natural for a father to be concerned.
“They argued on the day they were killed,” Voula admitted after a short pause. “That’s why the kids were over at my place. Kristen told me her dad wanted her mom to take them to visit his parents in Ireland. He’d bought the tickets without asking her, and her mom didn’t want to go.”
Rebecca’s interest was piqued. “What else did Kristen say?”
Voula peered over her shoulder to make sure the girl was out of earshot. “That her mom was mad because her dad was keeping secrets.”
Something slimy slithered up Rebecca’s spine. The tiny buds of suspicion Voula had planted within her entered full bloom. She didn’t know what to think. Was Voula one of those paranoid neighbors who saw conspiracies everywhere, or was there a chance she was right? Had someone purposely set out to murder Lindsay and Liam? But for what reason? They were just a regular couple, living a simple life, toiling to raise their children in an increasingly hectic world. Things like this didn’t happen to ordinary people. Or did they?
Kristen zipped through the kitchen, chasing the fattest cat Rebecca had ever seen. She giggled and sprinted, momentarily forgetting that her parents no longer waited for her in the safe bosom of her home. But Rebecca couldn’t forget even if she tried, and now, after everything Voula had told her, it haunted her thoughts more than ever. A dark mist closed around her, darkening her mood. Questions reeled inside her head, as distressing as they were puzzling.
With a defeated sigh, she grabbed another cookie and resigned herself to the depressing fact that the truth, like happiness and skinny thighs, would most likely forever evade her.
Chapter Five
When Zach emerged from the shower, he felt like a new man. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent shower. His mornings were more hectic than ever, filled with endless requests, numerous fights to break up and a baby to coddle and feed. He barely had enough time to hop under the jets, scrub, rinse and hop right out again.
So today he’d indulged, letting the steam build around him, enjoying the way the hot water pummeled his body and massaged his skin. He felt revitalized, almost human again.
Briefly, he wondered how Becca was faring with the kids. He could barely believe she was here at all. Given her history, it took a hell of a l
ot of courage to do what she was doing, and he couldn’t help but admire her for it. Maybe she’d gotten past her self-destructive obsession. Maybe there was still hope…
He snickered as he slipped into a new shirt. This was precisely what he’d feared would happen. Just a few hours with her and he was already looking for reasons to give this thing between them another shot.
“There’s no going back.” Wasn’t that what she’d said?
Well, she was right, and it was high time he accepted it.
He dried his hair, flung the towel over a chair. This wasn’t going to work. They couldn’t live together again. And even if they did, it couldn’t last. At some point they’d have to go their separate ways. What would happen to the kids then? He wrapped his hands over the back of the chair, clenched his fists around the smooth oak finish. This situation had disaster written all over it.
But what could he possibly do to make her leave? He contemplated his options, then decided he might not have to do anything. With any luck, she wouldn’t be able to hack it. She had no idea what she’d gotten herself into, but he did. He’d lived it for two weeks straight, and raising these three made the cutthroat world of advertising look like a day at the beach. It was only a matter of time before she caved under the pressure.
Doubt gnawed at him. Her words rang in his mind, as clear as glass: “I’d rather die trying than give up. I’m not a quitter.”
A groan rumbled in his chest. Who was he kidding? Becca didn’t quit. Ever. She’d bash her head into the same brick wall over and over again until she bled to death rather than give in.
So how on earth was he going to get rid of her?
The baby monitor chimed with a joyful squeal. Will was awake, and for once he wasn’t crying. Of course, that could change on a dime the second Zach walked into the room. He filled his lungs with a bolstering breath, straightened his back and prepared for battle.
When he entered Will’s bedroom, the baby was standing in his crib, chewing on the railing. His cheeks were flushed, and a thin rivulet of drool crawled along his chin—both of which, Zach had quickly come to learn, were symptoms of teething. Thankfully, the boy looked rested and relatively happy.
