by Virna DePaul
“It wasn’t sopping wet, but it wasn’t quite dry, either.” He shrugged again. “I asked the father about it at the hospital. Officer Cantrell said she’d gotten blood on her hair and freaked out. Wouldn’t calm down until he rinsed it out. So that’s what he did.”
“Are you kidding me? Cantrell tampered with evidence and it’s not in your report?”
“It was his daughter, man. What would you have done?”
John clenched a fist. When Lily had visited him that night, she’d been wearing a strapless black dress. A far cry from the T-shirt and sweats she’d had on at the crime scene. He’d assumed she’d changed when the cops got there and took her dress as evidence. “What about her clothes? Did she change clothes while you were there?”
Pendelton looked away. “I think the father said she’d changed before we came. To get the blood off her.”
“More tampering with evidence.” John slapped his hand on the table. “And you didn’t think it worth putting in your report?”
Although his hand shook, Pendelton took another sip of coffee. “Didn’t I?”
“No. You didn’t.”
“I guess I didn’t think it mattered. She was a kid. And little. There’s no way she could have done that to her mother.”
That didn’t mean the officer shouldn’t have noted every detail—relevant or seemingly irrelevant—in his report. Now things having to do with Lily needed to be accounted for. “Your partner, where can I find him?”
“Drake Livingston was an old-timer. He, uh, retired right after the case. Moved to Florida, I think.”
And had probably checked out long before then, John thought. No wonder the report had holes. It had been written by one newbie and one officer headed out the door. And Hardesty had been the obvious—the easy—answer. “Did the witnesses give statements at the house?”
“No. The EMT’s took the girl to the hospital. Livingston and McDonald processed the scene and waited for the detectives. They interviewed the neighbors. The boyfriend, who had an alibi. They learned about Hardesty. Found out he’d killed his wife while under the influence and had served prison time before being released. Matched his prints to those inside and later got a confession out of him.” Pendelton put his mug down with a thump. “Case closed.”
As John left the station, Pendelton’s words echoed in his mind. Case closed.
Except it wasn’t closed. Not by a long shot.
Chapter 8
The night after Ashley’s dance, Lily’s niece once again roped her into playing beautician. This time, however, she also wanted Lily to play chauffeur. Lily didn’t mind. She was enjoying spending time with her family again.
Lily snapped the clip that held up Ashley’s shiny dark locks in a half-down, half-up style. “Voila.”
Ashley smiled. “Thanks, Aunt Lily.” She kissed Lily’s cheek and then reached for her sweater. “Let’s go. I really want you to meet Mike.” Ashley blushed. “I—uh—I mean Tessa.”
Lily smiled. “Mike-Tessa, huh? Interesting name.”
Her niece blushed.
“Okay. Go get in the car. I’ll just grab my coat and purse.”
With a sigh of relief, Ashley ran out the door. Lily took a quick look around the room, lightly touching the ribbons and drawings that littered the walls and frilly white vanity. Such a mix of woman and girl, she thought, picking up a picture of Ashley as a toddler. She put it down next to several tubes of lip gloss and body glitter.
Ashley had taken extra care with her appearance, too much care for a simple sleepover. The number of times she’d mentioned Mike, Tessa’s stepbrother, explained why.
Had she ever been that young? That innocent?
Yes. But the last time she’d experienced that wild anticipation and euphoria had been with John.
Closing her eyes, Lily shaded her face with the picture, as if it could offer some protection against the hot wave of longing that caressed her. John’s kiss had been frighteningly intense, but equally liberating, proving to her without a doubt that she wasn’t frigid like she’d believed. It made her wonder what sex would be like with him. She’d probably burst into flames the minute he touched her naked body, let alone penetrated her. Shuddering, she opened her eyes, blinking when the sight of Ashley’s room cooled the heat thrumming through her body.
Moving down the hallway, she followed the trail of murmured voices and the smell of chicken piccata.
“—what about Lily? Remember John?”
Lily stopped in the hallway and tried not to breathe. Had John already tried to see them again?
“That was different.... She was vulnerable to that sort of thing.”
“And what about me? Was I vulnerable, too?”
Aaron’s voice sounded clipped. “I don’t know, Ivy. You tell me. Is that why you went out with me?”
The tense silence emanating from the kitchen was palpable. In horror, Lily listened to Ivy and Aaron’s escalating argument. Her eyes widened when Aaron mentioned sex. Widened more when Ivy confessed to not liking it.
Evidently, frigidity was something else the Cantrell girls had in common. Closing her eyes, she frowned when Aaron said, “I’m sick of taking the blame for your father’s actions.” What was he talking about?
The obvious sounds of kissing forced her eyes open. Slowly, she approached the kitchen, hoping to sneak past without them seeing her. But she must have made a noise, because Aaron ripped himself away from Ivy and looked at her. She froze.
Despite their heavy breathing and disheveled clothes and hair, Aaron tried to pretend he hadn’t been about to make love to his wife against the kitchen counter. Clearing his throat, he sat at the table behind a cutting board piled with artichokes and picked up the knife.
“You guys going?” Ivy breathed out. Her face was flushed dark red and she wouldn’t quite meet Lily’s gaze. For her sake, Lily held back her questions.
“I realized I can’t stay for dinner. I have—have something to take care of. Ashley will have a ride?”
“Tessa’s father will drive her home. Her mom has to take Mike to a baseball game.” Ivy raised her fingertips to touch her swollen lips, then dropped them when she saw Lily watching her.
“Okay. Well, bye.” Lily shot a final glance at Aaron, but his gaze was riveted to the dinner preparations. Given what she’d just interrupted, she marveled at his slow, precise movements.
She watched the swivel of steel against wood. Her breathing escalated and her vision blurred as Aaron shifted the knife in his hands and jabbed at the individual pieces of artichoke in order to transfer them to the bowl.
A knife plunging into flesh. Over and over again. Until blood drenched the walls. Before she could stop the gruesome visions, a whimper escaped her. She looked up, flushing when she saw Aaron staring at her.
She licked her lips. “I’ll—I’ll see you later.”
He nodded curtly.
Lily waved at Ivy, who now stared at Aaron. For a moment, Lily hesitated, wondering if she should leave Ivy alone.
Reading her mind, Ivy glanced up at her, smiled reassuringly and nodded her head. “It’s okay,” she mouthed. “Go on.”
Rushing outside, Lily got into the car. She took a minute and leaned her head back against the headrest, drawing in deep calming breaths. She felt Ashley’s eyes on her.
“Aunt Lily?”
Straightening, Lily shot her niece what she hoped was a reassuring smile. What the hell had just happened in there? “I’m okay, Ash. You ready to go?”
Ashley seemed to hesitate, then shrugged. “Sure.”
Turning on the ignition, Lily glanced at her niece. “Put on your seat belt, sweetie.”
She set the car radio to Radio Disney and tried to enjoy Ashley’s animated singing. Normally, Lily would be singing with her, laughing at the way her niece was butchering the words, but the memory of Aaron and Ivy’s argument covered her in a thick shroud of anxiety. And when she thought about Aaron gripping the kitchen knife—even though she tried not to
think about it—she imagined horrible things. Felt fear bite into her so sharply she clenched the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened.
“Aunt Lily!”
Lily jerked when Ashley called her name.
“You missed the turn on Marigold, Aunt Lily.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Daydreaming, I guess.” She pulled over to the curb and checked her rearview mirror in order to execute a U-turn. Ashley placed a hand on her arm and she automatically covered it with one of her own, turning to give her niece a smile. Ashley stared at her with such solemn eyes that Lily immediately felt a pit form in her stomach.
“Can I ask you something, Aunt Lily?”
Lily squeezed her fingers. She’s going to ask me about her parents fighting, Lily thought, then took a deep breath. I’ll just tell her everyone fights. That her father’s stressed at work…
“Mom never talks about it, you know. Not to me. But I know Grandma Tina was murdered.”
Lily tried to hide her shock but she was speechless for several seconds. Finally, she managed to respond. “You do?”
Ashley nodded. “Some kids at school were talking about it. I went to the library and looked up some articles. I know—I know the man who did it got the death penalty.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“Glad,” Ashley said fiercely. “I’m glad he’s going to die for what he did. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Lily whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because what I really want is my mother back. And whether he dies or not, I’m not going to get that.”
Ashley stared out the windshield, focusing on the tree-lined street. “I’m sorry.”
Lily jerked her gaze back to Ashley’s. “For what?”
“I made you sad. Bringing it up. I shouldn’t have—”
Lily released her seat belt and leaned toward her niece, catching her in a tight hug. “Don’t be sorry. You can ask me anything, Ashley.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
With one last reassuring pat, Lily pulled away from the curb and was almost to Tessa’s house when Ashley asked, “What did Grandpa do afterward?”
“You mean after Grandma Tina died?”
Ashley nodded.
“He took care of your mom and me. Made sure we had people to talk to if we wanted to. If you—if you ever need someone to talk to, you’ll tell us, right? Tell your mom?”
“You mean like a therapist?” Ashley asked drily, with all the wry sarcasm of a fourteen-year-old.
Lily laughed. “Yes, I mean a therapist.”
“I’ll let you guys know.”
“Good. Why did you ask? About Grandpa I mean.”
Without seeming to know it, Ashley started bouncing in her seat as they pulled up to Tessa’s house. “There’s Mike’s car. He’s here.” She opened the door and grabbed her overnight bag from the back.
“Ashley, wait. Why did you ask about Grandpa Doug?”
With a quick glance at the house, Ashley ducked her head in and gave Lily a kiss. “Oh, it was just something I heard my mom and dad talking about once. Something about Grandpa Doug doing what he’d done because of you.”
Lily frowned. “Because of me? Are you su—”
“Bye, Aunt Lily. Thanks!” Ashley dashed off just as the front door opened and Tessa came running out. Tessa’s mom stepped outside and waved to Lily.
With an uneasy, troubled feeling, Lily waved back, then drove away.
Chapter 9
Outside the downtown Victorian with blue paint and white trim, Lily took a deep breath and tried to ignore the stifling heat of the midday sun. It had been over ten years since she’d seen Dr. Tyler, and over five since she’d actually spoken with her before she’d called her. It was no wonder John’s mother had sounded surprised by her request for an appointment. Lily would have given anything to have never seen the woman again. And not because she hated her. She felt extremely grateful to the woman who’d essentially risked her career to help Lily find a measure of peace after her mother’s death. And even though she hadn’t remained her regular therapist for long, she’d been the one to bring Lily out of the darkest depths of her despair.
She walked up the steep set of stairs and entered the house. A few chairs and a large table with a puzzle in progress, as well as stacks of magazines, waited on the right. She went the other direction, toward the open door of Dr. Tyler’s office.
Inside, Dr. Tyler smiled and rose from her chair to greet her. “Lily.”
A rush of affection and sadness ran through her. Nora Tyler was almost sixty, but her skin was smooth and fairly taut, a testament to her dedication to stay out of the sun. She wore fashionably slim jeans and a scoop-necked emerald sweater that complemented her blue eyes and dark curly hair, which she wore loose. Her casual clothes surprised Lily. In the past, she’d always worn suits and kept her hair pulled back. The change made her seem more approachable. Lily felt the urge to hug her, but stifled it since John’s mother had never been comfortable with PDAs.
With regret and an ache in her chest, she thought of Carmen. She knew she was some kind of doctor now, but that was all. Lily had read a brief bio of her in the Sac Bee, when the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation had spotlighted her efforts on their behalf. Lily normally went to the charity’s annual fundraiser, but she’d deliberately missed that year’s gala to insure she wouldn’t run into Carmen.
“Come in, dear.”
Lily stepped into Dr. Tyler’s office. She’d redecorated, but she’d kept the wingback chair, upholstered in a different fabric, that Lily had always sat in. She sat in it now. “Thank you for seeing me. I know how you felt about keeping me as a patient before, but I was hoping with all the time that’s passed, it would be okay. You—you’re really the only one I trust with this kind of thing.”
Smiling, Dr. Tyler nodded. “You know I’m happy to help you, Lily.”
“This time, I can even pay you. No more pro bono stuff.”
Dr. Tyler crouched next to her and took her hands in hers. “That was never an issue, Lily. Your mother was one of my dearest friends. I always regretted that we’d drifted apart before...” A shadow crossed over her face and she patted Lily’s hands again before straightening. “So long as you know the same rules apply, I think we’re fine for one session. But for the same reasons I gave you before, I can’t take you on as a regular client, Lily. Your past friendship with Carmen and John complicates things and I don’t want to jeopardize either one of us.”
“Sure.” Dr. Tyler had already jeopardized her career once by treating Lily. She’d had little choice since she’d been the only one that could get Lily to talk during the first year after the murder.
Lily cleared her throat as Dr. Tyler took the seat across from her. “Is it okay if I ask about Carmen? How is she?”
It was subtle, but Dr. Tyler’s smile faltered. “She’s fine, Lily. Thank you. We’d better get started since I have an appointment in an hour. How are you?”
Staring at her hands, Lily shrugged. “I’m not doing so well.”
“I read the reports your other therapists faxed me. As of a few years ago, you were dealing with your trauma extremely well. No recurring nightmares. No anxiety. Despite being off medication for several years. What’s changed?”
“I—I don’t know. The dreams have come back. Worse than they’ve ever been.”
Dr. Tyler nodded, a small furrow between her brows. “Tell me about the dreams.”
Lily briefly described the dream she kept having. “It’s after my father says it’s my fault that I wake up, terrified. I always—I always have to take a few minutes to convince myself it wasn’t real. That—that I wasn’t really there.” Taking a deep breath, Lily leaned back in her chair and waited for Dr. Tyler to tell her she was being ridiculous.
Only she didn’t. “Aren’t you going to tell me how silly that is?”
The chair creaked and Dr. Tyler leaned closer,
once more covering one of Lily’s hands with her own. “Tell me again, where were the others in this dream?”
Staring at their clasped hands, Lily fought back the rise of fear inside her.
“Lily.”
Her gaze lifted to Dr. Tyler’s.
“It’s okay.” Dr. Tyler stood. “Let’s just talk this through.” Removing her hand, she sat back.
“You said the dream started the way it always does. With you walking into the house and seeing Hardesty standing over your mother’s body.”
“Yes. She was crawling. Trying to get away.” She glanced down again. Her fingers had clenched together so tightly that her knuckles whitened. “But this dream seemed different somehow. Even at the beginning.”
“Different how?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. More colorful, maybe. More vibrant.”
“Go on.”
Her mouth felt dry, so she reached for the glass of water in front of her and took a sip. “I tried to run to her. To help.”
When she didn’t go on, Dr. Tyler finished for her. “But then someone stopped you?”
She nodded. “Yes. And then they were standing next to me. Hardesty on one side. Dad on the other. And we watched together. While someone else—not Hardesty, but someone else—hurt her and carried her away. And that’s when my dad turns to me and tells me it’s my fault.”
Lily’s palms shook and a fine film of sweat covered her forehead, chilling her. She struggled to breathe evenly.
“It’s okay,” Dr. Tyler urged. “You’re going to be okay.”
Lily leaped to her feet. “How can you say that? I can tell what you’re thinking. That this is some kind of memory coming to the surface. That I witnessed my mother’s murder and stood by while someone did that to her.”
Calmly, Dr. Tyler shook her head. “I didn’t say that.” She rose and walked to a sideboard on the other side of the room. She took something out of a cabinet and Lily heard glass clink together and the sound of liquid being poured. When she turned back, Dr. Tyler carried two glasses, each with a small amount of liquid.
