As I went around the house and entered through the kitchen door, I noticed to my relief that my shattered windshield had been replaced. If I did have to go back out, at least I could use my own car now.
The twins were finishing up lunch in the kitchen, and Helen was at the sink washing dishes.
"Hi, Mom," Stevie said with his mouth full of peanut butter and jelly.
I walked over and kissed the top of his head and then rubbed Seth's affectionately.
"You look pretty bad, Mom," Seth remarked.
"Yeah, you're almost the color of the wicked witch," Stevie announced.
My color of choice lately.
Helen turned to give me a sly smile. "I'm sure your mother will be feeling better soon. In about nine months or so."
I sucked in a sharp breath. Damn it. How the heck does she know?
"I feel fine." I tried to pretend I hadn't heard her remark. "Um, where's your sister?"
My mother-in-law snorted. "Her boyfriend picked her up about a half an hour ago. Honestly, I can't believe you allow her to date at such a young age."
My mouth fell open. "Didn't Darcy tell you she's grounded?"
Helen whirled around, surprised, dish in hand. "She said you knew all about the boy coming over to take her to the movies. Brian something, right?"
"Ryan," Stevie and Seth shouted together.
I clenched my fists at my sides. "I can't believe she did that. But then again, she does a lot of things lately that I can't believe."
"You should throw all her clothes out the window," Seth said. "That'll teach her."
"She called me a geek this morning," Stevie added.
I hurried upstairs, wanting to see for myself. Sure enough, no Darcy. Something about this scenario felt off. I knew Darcy liked Ryan, but she wasn't gaga about him, like she'd been when they first started dating four months ago. Darcy was easily bored, and I was secretly relieved that she'd lost interest in him. So why would she go out with Ryan now and risk being grounded for the rest of her teenage life?
Suddenly dizzy, I sat down on the edge of her bed. My life was spiraling out of control. The morning sickness—as with my other children—would probably soon become an all-day event for me. I was consumed with guilt about both Mildred and Paul's deaths. I couldn't seem to line up any new business or manage my rebellious teenage daughter. And now Ben was threatening to cancel the sale and sue me. Hey, everyone has problems, right?
Think. Try to focus.
I went back downstairs and found Stevie and Seth playing with Rusty in the living room and my mother-in-law cleaning out my fridge. I winced. "Helen, you don't have to do that."
She ignored my comment and kept wiping down shelves. "When are you due?"
I was thunderstruck. "Helen, I don't know what you're talking about."
She turned around to face me. "Cynthia, don't give me that bull. I knew as soon as I looked at you this morning. Plus, I heard you get sick. Have you told my son yet?"
Agitated, I pressed my lips together. "Please don't say anything to Greg. I haven't had a chance to tell him. I only found out yesterday."
For the first time I could ever remember, her angular face softened. "Having a baby at your age can be dangerous, you know."
She always knew just what to say to make me feel better. "It wasn't exactly planned."
"Obviously," Helen said tartly. "Well, it will be nice to have another baby to hold. And of course, he or she will have a wonderful father."
I waited, but she didn't continue. Nope, that was all I was getting. Still, an overall improvement for her.
"I'm going to find Darcy. Would you mind staying with the boys for a little while longer?"
Helen untied the spotless apron from around her waist. "Of course not. I love spending time with my grandsons. But I'd prefer to take them back to my house. I'm expecting the cable man this afternoon."
"That's fine. And thank you." It was times like this when I missed my own mother. It would have been nice if Helen could have been a substitute of sorts. When Greg had first proposed to me, I'd secretly hoped that Helen and I would have a close relationship—go shopping, bake together, share confidences. Then I'd met her, and my dreams had been squashed forever.
I started to reach out to her but stopped myself just in time.
She looked at me oddly. "Is there a problem, Cynthia?"
I sighed. "No, nothing at all. I won't be long."
I grabbed my purse and got into my car. I called Darcy's cell, but she didn't answer. Big surprise there. I sent her a text. Where are you? No response. I sent another message. You're in big trouble. Nothing again. I tried to remain calm. Ryan was leaving for college soon. Could they have gone off to some sleazy motel? I didn't think Darcy would do something like that and debated about calling Greg. No. He was almost three hours away, and I didn't want to upset him. This was my problem to deal with for now.
I searched the contacts on my phone and found the number for Ryan's parents I had insisted Darcy give me on the night they attended prom. Ryan was a nice-looking boy with blond hair and amber-colored eyes who had a good future ahead of him. He'd been the quarterback on the high school football team, a straight-A student, but was also two years older than Darcy and leaving for Northwestern University in a couple of weeks.
I didn't want Darcy seriously involved with a boy at such a young age. I knew it drove Greg crazy whenever Ryan's name was mentioned, but I had convinced him not to say anything. If Darcy knew it bothered us, she would continue to see Ryan out of spite. Today was a different matter, though. I was going to ground her for the rest of the summer, maybe even her life.
No one answered at Ryan's house, so I left a message on the answering machine, asking for a callback as soon as possible. I lied and said it was urgent. I was so angry at my daughter for disobeying that I couldn't even see straight.
I drove down my street and onto the Thruway, getting off at the next exit. I continued down a bumpy, rural road for about a mile until I came to Pleasant Memories Cemetery. I drove through the open iron gates and parked my car on the entranceway.
I glanced around, but the place seemed deserted. The grounds were well maintained and several of the headstones bore flowers and a few assorted knickknacks such as American flags from the recent Fourth of July holiday. Although I hadn't been out here in almost ten years, I still remembered exactly where the family plot was. I walked down two rows and up another and found the massive bronze headstone that read Steadman.
They were all there, in a row. Paul and his parents, Arthur and Evelyn. I sank to my knees and placed my hands on the front of the smooth stone.
Paul Steadman. May 18, 1972 – June 20, 1990. Our ray of sunshine.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "You didn't deserve to have your life stolen. You would have done wonderful things for so many people."
I traced my fingers over the letters of his name. I thought of the night he had kissed me. How we'd made fun of all the other couples necking at the prom. How he'd pick me up for school every morning after he'd gotten his license. The time he'd insisted on paying for my windshield and the countless nights I'd come for dinner at his house. When we were younger, we'd always trick-or-treated together. He was the only male friend that my mother ever let sleep over when I was a teenager—on the couch, of course—while I remained in my room.
He'd had everything going for him. He was smart, good looking, and, of course, rich. I supposed he was a tad bit arrogant and all-knowing at times, although he'd never acted that way with me.
Who had killed my best friend? There was a woman who'd stalked him, claiming instead to love him. A jealous brother whose life had greatly improved when he was out of the way forever. A football player Paul had refused to help. And what exactly had Mildred known? That Paul couldn't father a child because of the mumps? What was I missing here?
I leaned my head against the stone and shut my eyes. "I wish you could talk to me. Give me some answers."
I knew in my hear
t he hadn't been involved with anyone else. It didn't make sense after his note to me. He wasn't cut from the same cloth as his brother. Had someone told him she was pregnant with his child, and he was trying to prove her wrong? And why had he lied to his brother about the whole specimen thing?
My thoughts shifted, and I found myself wondering what he'd be like if he was still alive today. Maybe he and Greg would have been good friends. I was certain he would have gone on to become a doctor, and most likely, he would have married. Or perhaps, as Greg had surmised the other night, I would have been his wife. I still had my doubts, but who knew what path my life would have taken if Paul had lived?
I speculated for a moment on how different my world would have been if I'd married Paul instead of Greg. Would we still have had twins or adopted children? It was weird thinking about a different type of lifestyle.
I wouldn't have been a real estate agent. Maybe I would have been another pampered, spoiled version of Michelle. I could just see us attending spinning classes together every morning and then lunching at the country club afterward. Or not…
Michelle.
What had she told Darcy? That Paul didn't know how to mind his own business. Is that why Paul had asked Ben to come in for a so-called donation? He'd suspected it might not be Ben's baby when he'd caught Michelle with Carl. He knew he couldn't tell Ben until the results came back confirming his suspicions because Ben wouldn't believe him.
Then I remembered the hat that Aaron had examined. I'd been so sure it would prove Rachel to be the killer. A blonde hair had been found, but Rachel had a criminal record, so there would have been a match.
Michelle, as far as I knew, did not have a criminal record.
The pieces quickly lined up in place, just like the Rubik's Cube Paul had always been obsessed with. Everything fit. Michelle was also the woman Doctor Sanchez had heard Paul arguing with the night before in the hospital. And Rachel had seen them together in the parking lot, talking the day before he died.
If Paul went to his brother with the test results, Ben would discover that Paula wasn't his child. It would have ruined all of Michelle's plans.
I flicked my eyes open and shielded them from the bright sunlight. I walked slowly and calmly back to my car, as if I had all the time in the world. My knees shook, but I knew what needed to be done now.
I dialed Jacques' number, and it went to voicemail. "I'm going out to the Steadman house. I'll wait for you on the side of the road, near the entrance. Please come as soon as you can." I didn't have the guts to confront Michelle all by myself. Although I was seething with anger at what she'd done to my friend, the truth of the situation didn't escape me. She'd already killed twice and wouldn't hesitate to do it again if necessary. I'd wait for Jacques to arrive, and then together we'd figure out what to do or maybe go directly to the police. I had no proof but still felt confident that I'd found Paul's killer.
I was about to put the phone away when it pinged that I had a new voicemail. I brought it to my ear and listened.
"Hi, Mrs. York. It's Ryan. Um, I guess you're probably looking for Darcy, but she's not with me. I mean, she was. But she just wanted me to give her a ride over to that fancy mansion where that lady lives. You know—the one who's been helping her with her cheers. I was going to wait, but she said the owner would give her a lift back home later. Hope that's okay. Bye."
The blood pounded loudly in my ears and throat until I was afraid I might suffocate. I threw the car into drive and placed a hand over my chest, trying to steady my rapid breathing as the reality dawned on me.
My daughter is with a killer.
There was a dump truck ahead of me, going about ten miles an hour on the rural road. I pushed the pedal to the floor and swerved to the left, passing him on the double line and barely missing a car coming in my direction. They laid on their horns and shouted obscenities, but I ignored them as my car continued to fly down the road. I had never driven so erratically before, but there was no time to waste. Darcy's life could be in danger.
"Please," I whispered. "Please don't let Michelle hurt her."
CHAPTER TWENTY
As I pulled into the Steadman driveway, I tried to calm myself. Should I contact the police? No. I couldn't take the chance while my daughter was still in the house. I needed to get Darcy out of there first. Get it together, Cin. Try to have a poker face. Something I had never been good at.
My legs wobbled as I stepped out of the car, and my stomach began its usual rumble. I waited until the feeling passed. This was no time for morning sickness.
I knocked on the front door and waited. No answer. I knocked again. Still nothing. Was it possible they weren't there? Could they have gone to practice at one of the fields? I wasn't taking any chances. I reached in my purse for my eKEY device and synced it with the electronic lockbox on the front door.
The sparse furniture that had been in the house earlier that morning was gone. There were no signs of life anywhere, except for Michelle, casually leaning over the landing on the second floor.
The sight of her unnerved me. She had changed her outfit and was now wearing jean shorts and a low-cut, red T-shirt but looked a bit disheveled. Her overall appearance was different from earlier too. The perfectly made up face was devoid of makeup and strangely pale, as if she'd been crying. Her green eyes looked especially catlike as she glared at me.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped.
Crap. Had Ben called her? I managed a small smile and wave. "Hi, Michelle. I think I left my cell phone here this morning. Did you find it by chance?"
Her mouth turned up slightly at the corners. "No, I didn't."
I couldn't stand it any longer. "Where's Darcy? She has a dentist appointment, so I'm here to take her."
The smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Oh, really? Funny, she didn't mention it to me." She jerked her thumb toward the hallway. "She's in the bathroom, changing. We were headed over to the football field to practice a few cheers before I take off. Looks like that won't happen now."
I fought to keep my voice steady. "I told Darcy she was grounded. She wasn't supposed to go anywhere. I'm sorry if she's bothering you."
Michelle tipped her head back and laughed. "She's not bothering me at all. As a matter of fact, it's perfect timing that she showed up when she did."
Alarm bells went off in my head as I stared at her.
Michelle returned my gaze, as if knowing my every thought. I forced myself to smile. "Can you call her? We really need to be on our way."
She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. Cindy, why couldn't you just leave well enough alone?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ben just called here and was very upset. He said you were making insinuations." Her nostrils flared as she continued to stare at me. "You have him doubting if Paula is his own child or not. Exactly where do you get your audacity from?"
"Um, he must have heard me wrong," I lied. "Why would I say something like that?"
"Thanks to you, he wants a paternity test. My marriage is over. I didn't think you were smart enough to put it all together, but you surprised me." She put her hands together and began a slow, mocking clap.
I prayed my face was not giving me away. "Michelle, Ben loves you. I'm sure you guys will work everything out. Have a safe trip. Now Darcy and I should go. If we're late, they'll charge us extra."
She didn't respond. Her gaze continued to lock on mine, and a trickle of sweat began to descend down my back.
"Darcy!" I shouted in a trembling voice. "We're late for our appointment. We need to leave now."
As if playing a role on stage, Darcy came out to the landing and stood beside Michelle. Two against one, with me being the potential enemy in their eyes.
"Hello, Mother."
"Darcy, we need to leave. Get your things. Now."
She tossed her head. "I know you're mad at me. I just wanted to say good-bye to Michelle. I don't care if you ground me a
gain. It was so worth it."
Michelle placed her arm around my daughter's shoulders. "Oh, sweetie. I feel the same way."
Panic gripped me. "I'm not mad, Darcy. Please get your things this minute."
In resignation, Darcy waved at Michelle. "Sorry we couldn't practice. I knew my mother would show up and make a scene." She picked up her book bag and took a step in my direction, while she continued to glower at me.
Suddenly, Michelle produced a small, shiny, pearl-handled revolver from her shorts pocket and pointed it at my daughter's head. "Darcy, you need to stay here, sweetie. With me."
Darcy's face went pale as she stared down the barrel of the gun and then looked helplessly at me. She mouthed one word. "Mommy."
Dread that was as heavy as a sinking boulder swept through my body. "Michelle, please. She has nothing to do with this. Let her go."
Michelle reached out and pulled Darcy toward her. She kept the gun positioned at the side of my daughter's head.
Darcy hiccupped back a sob. "Mommy, help me."
Anger and fear stirred within my gut. "Let her go. I'll stay and do whatever you want. Just don't hurt my daughter."
She laughed. "No one would have known if it hadn't been for that blasted time capsule. Who would have thought he'd leave you a love letter? What did he ever see in you? You weren't even in the Steadman league."
"He knew Paula wasn't Ben's baby, didn't he?" I asked gently and took a couple of steps forward.
She pointed the gun at me but positioned her other hand so that it was wrapped around Darcy's neck. "He was trying to ruin everything. He asked me to meet him at the hospital where he waved the test results at me. Somehow, he'd found out Ben couldn't father a child. And he had the nerve to ask me if it was Carl's baby because he'd caught us together a few weeks before. He said he was going to tell Carl and Ben, unless I dropped my claim that Ben was the father. He was such a smug bastard. Said there wasn't a thing I could do about it."
Michelle's lower lip trembled as she went on. "Paul said I was a gold digger. He was so vicious. I've always loved Ben. Maybe he wasn't sure about me at first, but when he learned about the baby, he changed his mind and asked me to marry him."
Priced to Kill (Cindy York Mysteries Book 2) Page 18
