HER SISTER'S KILLER an absolutely gripping killer thriller full of twists

by MICHELLE S. SMITH

  “How is my mother?” Vicky asked to change the subject.

  “You haven’t seen her recently?” Sybil asked in mild surprise. “I’ve only visited her once or twice since I got back, but she isn’t all that well.”

  “When is she ever?” Victoria said under her breath. She managed a faint smile. “Are you meeting someone for dinner?”

  “A friend of mine.”

  “We’re not staying,” Victoria said quickly. “Just getting takeaways, right, Steve?” She nudged him so he’d play along. “It’s been a busy day at work for us both.” She tried to make it sound like they were just colleagues who happened to be dropping in to pick up a meal.

  “Right,” Steve agreed readily, putting his arm around Victoria and kissing the top of her head. No possibility of missing that, Victoria thought as she watched Sybil’s eyes widening.

  A silver Fiat drew up. “I think that’s your friend?” Victoria said hopefully.

  “Yes, I’d better go. Enjoy your meal, and I’ll let your mother know I’ve seen you.”

  “I bet that’s the first thing she’ll do,” Victoria muttered a few moments later, as they walked toward the restaurant. “She probably won’t even wait till she sees her to pass on the news.”

  They placed their order, then returned to the car to wait. “You sure you’re happy with pizza again after all those Chicago takeaways? You really didn’t want to eat the long-awaited piccata in style inside?” Steve suggested.

  “No, no,” Victoria sighed. “Sybil’s spoiled my appetite. I don’t want to sit in the restaurant with her watching us. She’s probably sending my mother a text right now.”

  “Or there’s sausage casserole. You could still change your mind?” Steve was reading the menu off his phone.

  “No! My mother will explode when she hears! Won’t she?”

  “I expect so,” Steve replied lightly.

  Victoria’s eyes narrowed.

  “You’re glad, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  Steve’s phone rang.

  “Our food is ready! Shall I go, or do you want to?”

  Victoria shook her head.

  She watched Steve as he jogged toward the restaurant entrance.

  “One pizza coming up!” he exclaimed a few minutes later. “Only a pleasure,” he added, in response to Victoria’s silence.

  “You did it deliberately.”

  “Bought you pizza? I plead guilty.”

  “Don’t play dumb. You wanted Sybil to find out we’re together. You know my mother doesn’t like you, and she’s going to be livid, and you’re pleased.”

  Steve’s smile faded.

  “Let’s head home,” he said shortly, shoving their takeaways on the seat behind him.

  They drove in silence the short distance back to Hancock. To Victoria, it felt like an eternity.

  “Enjoy the pizza.” Steve dumped the box onto her lap as Janet’s front garden came into view.

  “Steve, wait.” Victoria felt close to tears. “Let’s go back to your place for a while. Chat a bit.”

  “What is there to say?”

  “I’m sorry?” Victoria suggested.

  He nodded curtly.

  “I can’t talk for long. I have an early start tomorrow,” he said as they pulled up at his place.

  Victoria followed him silently up the pathway to his door. He switched on the light and gestured to the couch.

  She sat down, her body sinking onto the soothing coolness of the black leather, her pizza beside her.

  “Look, I overreacted,” she began, her voice wavering. “I felt you were taking pleasure in the whole situation because it’s going to drive my mother mad.”

  Steve took a deep breath, his eyes locked on hers, intense and inscrutable. Then, instead of sitting on the couch, he went down on his haunches before her and slowly withdrew her hands from where they were nervously clasped behind her knees, and held them.

  “I felt as though you were ashamed of being seen with me,” he said. “Like you think I’m not good enough for your mother.”

  Her fingers tightened over his.

  “You did? You really thought that?”

  “Yeah. I was trying to brush it off so you wouldn’t see I was—”

  “Hurt?”

  Steve nodded.

  “Steve, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I would never think that. You’re way too good for a messed-up family like ours. My mother has never been there for me when I needed her. But you — you walked me to my car at the hospital to make sure I was safe, you sat through a whole Shakespeare romcom with me, you planned our dinner tonight and made a reservation and everything—” She sniffed and removed her hand from his to rummage in her pocket for a handkerchief. “I know you are there for me. That I can trust you.”

  He gave the skew smile that made her throat go dry.

  “Hey,” he whispered caressingly.

  “Yes?”

  “Your pizza isn’t going to taste any better if it’s wet.” He grinned, wiping her eyes with a napkin from the pizza box.

  She laughed and kissed him. His fingers tightened over hers as he kissed her back. The pizza was forgotten.

  * * *

  Victoria steeled herself to go through her mother’s front door. It was standing ajar, and the hallway was dark.

  “Mother? I got your message.”

  A faint reply came from the bedroom, and Victoria stumbled through, tripping over an umbrella that was strewn across the floor.

  Her mother was in bed, staring out at a sliver of light showing through the heavy curtains.

  “And so I hear you are with Steve McCade. You never learn, do you? Leave him, Vicky. He’s no good. Do you understand me?”

  Victoria had never heard her mother’s voice quite so full of loathing.

  “You need to leave him.”

  Victoria shook her head. “I’m not leaving him.”

  Vera twisted her neck slightly to look over her shoulder at her daughter, her eyes wide. “You always make bad choices when it comes to men. You know me, my child. I have to speak my mind. I’ve always been a very plain speaker.”

  There wasn’t even a hint of irony in her voice.

  Victoria felt too tired even for anger. She went across to where her mother was lying and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

  “And you didn’t make a bad choice? Tell me something.” Victoria paused, trying to decide how to lead up to what she wanted to ask. “Are you absolutely sure that Becky had no one in her life?”

  Vera’s eyes slid up to Victoria’s and then shifted away. “There was no one. Becky knew that men were not to be trusted.”

  Victoria was sure her mother was lying. “Men like my father?”

  Vera glanced at her daughter once more, her face white. “Like your father,” she repeated, her eyes focusing on some faraway memory. Victoria thought it was the closest to an admission that her mother had ever come — except that she got the sense Vera was not referring to her father’s abuse.

  “What did my father do to you to make you distrust him?” Victoria probed gently.

  “He—”

  For a moment, Vicky thought her mother was going to tell her.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she replied tiredly. “All I know is that you abandoned us. If you had been here, Becky wouldn’t have died. You would have protected her.”

  “Like you never did?” snapped Victoria.

  “You should have been here!” Vera lifted herself up, her dull, dry voice rising to a shriek of fury. “You abandoned us for Chicago.”

  “The worst I ever did was want a life of my own!” Victoria shouted back. “And it’s what I wanted for Becky too.”

  Vera collapsed down onto the pillows, her chest rising and falling, like a sparrow that had flown into a windowpane. A thin-lipped smile revealed the lines etched in the brittle skin around her mouth. “Becky wasn’t like you,” she whispered. “She valued family.”
<
br />   “And if she had decided she wanted more than this?” demanded Victoria, her arm sweeping across the cluttered, crowded heaviness of the dark room. “Would you have tried to stop her?”

  Vera turned away so that her daughter couldn’t see her expression. “I only ever wanted what was best for her.” She swiveled around suddenly, her features quivering, though whether from anger or some other emotion, Vicky could not tell. “And I knew what was best for her. I did. Didn’t I?”

  “Did you?” muttered Victoria. She stared at her mother, but the older woman wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  Victoria shook her head, perplexed. What do you know about my father that you aren’t telling me? What do you know about Becky that you won’t share?

  She bit her lip. Maybe her mother was right. Perhaps she should have been here. Maybe she could have saved her sister. The thought was agonizing.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said finally. The house and all its memories felt like they were closing in on her. “I’ve got to go.”

  Chapter 32

  “You know Gavin and Megan Jenkins slightly, don’t you?” Victoria asked Janet. “Any idea where he might be hiding out? What are his interests?”

  Janet shook her head, then her face lit up. “I seem to remember Megan saying he liked animals. Hiking. The outdoors. What about the Harris Center if he’s keen on wildlife? I think he occasionally helped Joe with his research.”

  “Good idea. I’ll get in contact with Joe. It’s Wednesday, so he and John should be there. I’ll give them a ring and head off there now. You want me to take the kids along to give you a break?”

  “Please! Blake’s still on leave, and I never get a moment alone with him with these two around,” said Janet, grabbing Carrie and kissing her on the forehead.

  Victoria regretted her offer the second she pulled up at the Harris Center building.

  “Hey, look at this,” called Harvey. He leaped out of the car and swooped his toy airplane down with his arm, almost knocking over an elderly lady returning from a gentle stroll.

  Victoria cringed. “Sorry. Carrie, don’t pick the flowers please! Come on, guys. You need to behave now. This building is very special and has been carefully designed using lots of recycled or natural materials. And look — they even have solar panels to make electricity.”

  “I want to play outside! I don’t want to go in!” moaned Harvey. “I don’t want to talk to Joe now.”

  “Hey, Carrie! Hi, Harvey!” called a voice, and they turned to see John coming down the steps. “You guys want to play out here with St. Patrick while Victoria chats to Joe?”

  “Yeah!” Carrie and Harvey raced across to St. Patrick. He stood solidly, wagging his tail, as they flung their arms around him.

  John sat down on the steps of the building. “I’ll watch them,” he offered. “Joe’s inside.”

  Victoria hurried off, eager to find Joe, who rose immediately when he saw her.

  “You thought I c-could help you with Gavin?” he asked.

  “Seeing Gavin is a wildlife fan, we thought you might be able to suggest someone connected to the Harris Center who might have given him somewhere to stay.”

  Joe thought for a moment. “I know he was involved in the Hancock Bobcat Den Project.”

  “There are bobcats here?”

  “Yeah. He loved that. And I think he did shinrin-yoku a few times.”

  Victoria blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Forest bathing.” Joe laughed at her expression. “A f-form of nature therapy. Relaxation exercises. Yoga. Awareness of your surroundings. I’ll give you the numbers of those running the bobcat project.”

  “And the tree-hugging,” Victoria added, feeling excited that at last she might have some leads.

  “Forest bathing,” Joe corrected with a grin. “You should t-try it. Very soothing.” He forwarded the contacts to her phone as he spoke. “Good luck. Hope you find him.”

  She walked outside, blinking in the sunshine and put up her hand to shade her eyes. Where was John? And where, she wondered, her heart sinking, were the children?

  She ran down the steps. “Harvey? Carrie?” she called.

  To her relief, St. Patrick came bounding toward her, closely followed by John, with Harvey and Carrie trotting behind him.

  “Where were you?” Victoria snapped.

  Carrie pointed over her shoulder. “I went on that trail.”

  “She ran off before I could stop her,” said John, who was out of breath from the unexpected effort of running after small children.

  “It’s really cool!” Carrie exclaimed. “You just follow the yellow rectangles, and they show you where to go. And look what I found!” She held up a battered piece of plastic.

  “I found one too!” said Harvey, pushing her out of the way.

  Victoria turned the bits over in her hand. “Looks like junk.”

  John looked at her grimly. “Not at all,” he said, taking a third piece of plastic from his pocket. “This is the rest of it that they found.”

  Victoria’s hands rose up to her mouth as he passed her the remains of a crushed cell phone.

  “You suspect it could be your sister’s?” asked John.

  Victoria looked at him, confirmation in her eyes.

  “It looks like someone heavy stepped on it,” piped up Carrie. “It’s all broken.”

  “Yeah.” Victoria’s voice was unsteady. “It’s all broken now.”

  * * *

  Janet knocked on the door of Victoria’s bedroom and opened it enough to poke her head around. “Are you hungry?”

  Victoria shook her head.

  Janet walked in without asking and sat down on the bed where Victoria lay huddled under blankets in spite of the heat of the evening.

  “You’re going to find him.”

  “Who?” She knew who Janet was referring to, she just couldn’t find the words, the energy, to sit up and talk about him.

  “The bastard who killed your sister and destroyed her phone.”

  “I thought so too,” Victoria whispered. She closed her eyes. “I’m so tired.”

  Janet nodded. “At least you can cross Joe off your list. He only has eyes for Claire. I could have beaned him over the head with his hot dog the other night, and he still wouldn’t have stopped gazing at her.”

  Victoria grinned faintly.

  “That was pretty amazing, the way he came through into the garden as if on cue and caught her just in time. I didn’t realize how strong he was.”

  How strong he— She shook her head. He was with Claire when Todd was attacked. He couldn’t possibly be a suspect.

  Victoria sighed, shaking her head. “I find myself questioning everyone.”

  Janet grinned. “As long as you don’t suspect me, we’re okay.”

  Victoria reached out impulsively. “I would never suspect you, Janet,” she said. “You are one of the few people that I truly trust.”

  Chapter 33

  “Victoria!”

  Someone was calling her, but strong hands were choking her and forcing her head under water. She clawed at the merciless fingers, trying to break free.

  The harder she fought, the further she was submerged. Nothing made a difference. Her lungs were on fire, and for a moment, she went limp, ready to give in. Then the voice came again.

  “Victoria!”

  Someone needed her. The voice triggered an unexpected surge of strength, and she gripped her assailant’s wrists and yanked her head backwards as hard as she could. Relief flooded her as the suffocating fingers lost their grasp.

  “Victoria!”

  She woke with a jolt, her breaths coming in noisy gasps, her heart pounding. Her hands massaged her neck subconsciously.

  There was a knock at her window. She swung around and saw a face peering through the pane in the morning light.

  “What on earth — Gavin?”

  She leaped out of bed and hurried to open the window. Victoria hauled the grubby teen in and stared at him,
wondering for a moment if he was still part of her nightmare. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Your mother’s been worried sick.”

  “Yeah, hiding out in the woods by the Harris Center,” he said, apparently unconcerned about his mother. “Roughing it.”

  “Hugging trees?” Victoria asked sardonically.

  “What? Listen, Victoria, I ran away because I was scared. Of my dad. He is in it up to here in shady business deals. I have proof. I hacked into his accounts on my laptop.” He handed her a flash drive. “It’s all there.”

  “All there?” Victoria thought for a moment about John and swallowed back the lump in her throat. Then she turned to the boy. “You’d better phone your mother,” she said with a forced smile. She reached for a light sweater and pulled it on. “Ask Janet to let you use her phone. And clean yourself up.”

  “Where are you going?” Gavin demanded, responding to Victoria’s second instruction by pulling a couple of leaves out of his hair and dropping them carelessly on the carpet.

  “Out!” she replied over her shoulder.

  * * *

  Victoria stormed into John’s surgery. “I’ve found Gavin!”

  John looked up quickly from the file he was reading.

  “And?”

  Victoria passed him the flash drive. “The info on here is enough to jail Maurice for years.”

  John was silent for a moment. He took her hand and held it lightly, an inarticulate expression of gratitude where words would have been inadequate. “Thank you,” he said at last.

  * * *

  Janet flopped down onto the worn couch in her living room and beckoned to Victoria. “Alcohol,” she said. “I need alcohol.”

  Victoria grinned and brought through the tray from the kitchen. “Two champagnes coming up. We’re celebrating. Maurice has been arrested and John’s wife vindicated. I’ve been given the rest of the day off as a reward.”

  Janet looked at her and held up a badly misshapen spoon, the plastic twisted almost out of recognition and covered in what looked like bite marks.

  “You are celebrating,” she said. “I am recovering. Belle has destroyed my serving spoon, eaten half the cold stew I was going to heat up for dinner, and annihilated my very expensive sunglasses. If Blake and the kids hadn’t taken her out for a walk, I would have murdered her.”