by Joy Fielding
Cassidy opened her eyes, stared directly at Robin. “Someone shot me,” she repeated, as if trying to force the words to make sense. “Oh, God. It hurts. It hurts so much.”
“We’ll get a doctor in here in a few minutes,” the sheriff said. “But it’s real important that we find out what happened the night you were shot, Cassidy, so we can catch whoever did this. Can you help us?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” Her voice rose with each repetition.
“Okay. It’s okay. Calm down, sweetheart,” Robin said. “There’s no rush. We’ll take this very slowly. Okay, Sheriff? Okay, Cassidy?”
Cassidy nodded, tears falling down her cheeks. The sheriff took another step back.
“Do you know who shot you, sweetheart?” Robin repeated after a pause of several seconds.
“No. They were wearing masks. I couldn’t see their faces.”
“They?” Sheriff Prescott interjected. “How many were there?”
“Two. Maybe three. I’m not sure.”
“That’s okay,” Robin said. “Now we know that more than one person was involved. That’s good, Cassidy. You’re doing great.”
“Could you tell if they were men or women?” the sheriff asked.
“Men, I think. They were tall. Big. They were dressed all in black.”
“What kind of masks were they wearing?”
“Like for skiing.”
“Okay,” the sheriff said. “That’s good, Cassidy.”
“You’re doing great,” Robin said again, patting the child’s thin arm.
“Do you know how these people got in the house?”
Cassidy shook her head. “No. It was late. I was asleep. I remember…”
“What do you remember?” Robin asked as Cassidy’s eyes once again threatened to close.
“I remember hearing voices,” Cassidy responded. “Really loud. They woke me up.”
“Did you recognize the voices?”
“Just Daddy’s.”
Robin noticed Melanie’s shoulders stiffen on the word “daddy.”
“Could you hear what was being said?” the sheriff asked.
“No. There was just suddenly all this yelling. At first I thought it was my dad yelling at my mom about something…”
“Did they fight often?” Sheriff Prescott asked.
“No. Never. That’s what was so confusing. They were so happy…Oh, God, oh, God.” Her eyes widened, as if she’d just caught a glimpse of something horrific.
“Go on, Cassidy,” the sheriff urged. “You were asleep. Loud voices woke you up…”
“I looked at the clock beside my bed. It was after midnight. I wondered who it was so late at night, and why they were so mad. I climbed out of bed, went into the hall, crept down the stairs. The voices got louder,” she continued, speaking as if she were in a trance. “I got closer, and I saw two men,” she said. “One of them was waving a gun and saying, ‘Stop fucking with me, you piece of shit, or I swear I’ll shoot the bitch,’ ” Cassidy repeated in a voice not her own, the words jarring as they came from the child’s mouth. “ ‘I’ll shoot the bitch right now.’ ”
“And you’re sure you didn’t recognize the man’s voice?”
“I’m sure.”
“What about the second man?”
“He never said anything. He just stood there.”
“Think, Cassidy. Was there a third man, maybe standing guard in the hall?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Then what happened?” the sheriff asked.
“All of a sudden Daddy lunged…”
Robin watched Melanie wince at the word “daddy.”
“You saw him lunge?”
Cassidy nodded, relating the events as if she were narrating a scene from a movie. “And the man whacked him with the gun on the side of his head, and Daddy fell to his knees. And Mommy started screaming,” she said, one sentence tumbling into the next, “and the other guy shot her…Oh, God! He just kept shooting her. I screamed and the men spun around. And I ran. I heard more shots. I turned back and saw a man coming after me. But he tripped running up the stairs and I got to my room and grabbed the phone to call nine-one-one. And then the man burst through the door. He pointed his gun at my chest…” She stopped, looking around helplessly, as if trying to connect a series of invisible dots. “I don’t remember being shot.”
“You’re very lucky to be alive,” the sheriff said.
There was silence, the word “lucky” ricocheting through the still air like a stray bullet.
“The man who shot you,” the sheriff continued, “was he one of the men in the living room? Or was he someone else?”
“I don’t know. Oh, God. They’re dead, aren’t they?” Cassidy wailed. “Mommy…Daddy…they’re both dead.”
More silence, then, “I’m afraid that your mother succumbed to her wounds yesterday morning.”
Cassidy’s strangled cry shook the room. “And Daddy?”
“It doesn’t look good.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s still breathing,” Robin said, “but…”
“But he’s alive?”
“Barely,” Melanie said. “You can’t get your hopes up.”
“He’s alive,” Cassidy repeated.
“Yes,” Robin said. “He’s alive.”
“He’ll make it. You’ll see,” Cassidy insisted before bursting into tears. “Oh, God. My poor mommy. Why couldn’t they just take what they wanted and leave us alone? Why did they have to shoot us?”
“Were your parents expecting anyone that night?” the sheriff asked.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Can you think of any problems that either of them might have been having with anyone?”
Cassidy shook her head. “Everyone loved them.”
Robin caught Melanie’s smirk. Now was hardly the time to argue with Cassidy’s perceptions, however misguided they might be.
“No arguments with any business associates or employees?”
“They never talked about that sort of thing around me.”
“What about the workers? I understand men were in and out of the house pretty much on a daily basis.”
“They all seemed really nice. Daddy said they were doing a great job.” She looked from the sheriff to Robin. “I’m not much help, am I? I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be,” Robin said. “This isn’t your responsibility.”
“I want to help. I feel so stupid.”
“You are helping and you’re not stupid,” Robin assured her. “You just might be the bravest person I know.”
Cassidy’s fingers tightened their grip on Robin’s hand. “My mommy’s dead.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
“What am I gonna do?”
“Let’s not worry about that right now. For the moment, you have to concentrate on getting well.”
“Where am I gonna go?”
“You’ll come home with us,” Melanie said.
This time it was Cassidy who winced.
“Are you in pain?” Robin asked her. “I’ll get the doctor.”
“It’s okay,” Cassidy said, refusing to let go of Robin’s hand. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’ll go,” Melanie said. She paused, as if waiting for Cassidy to beg her to stay, then marched from the room when she didn’t.
“Promise you won’t leave me,” Cassidy said, her eyes pleading with Robin.
“I’ll stay as long as you need me,” Robin heard herself say, anxiety stabbing her chest like a knife. Had she really just promised to hang around Red Bluff indefinitely? She leaned in to kiss Cassidy’s forehead.
Cassidy quickly lifted her chin to whisper in Robin’s ear. “My mother said you’re the only one I can trust.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Can I ask you something?” Robin said to her sister at dinner that night.
Melanie glanced up from her leftover ch
ili. “Knock yourself out.”
“Why did you stay here? Why didn’t you move out after Dad married Tara?”
“Where would I have gone?” Melanie asked. “With no prospects, no fancy degrees, and an autistic son?” She looked at Landon, who was sitting across from her, spooning chili into his mouth without pause, his eyes resolutely on his plate. “To San Francisco to find Alec? To L.A. to be with you? Bet you would have loved that.” She leaned back in her chair, setting her fork down on the table. “I couldn’t afford my own place on what I make at Tillie’s, and Dad made it abundantly clear he wasn’t about to pay rent on an apartment when there was more than enough room for me and Landon here. Tara wasn’t thrilled, of course. It wasn’t exactly the arrangement she’d been picturing, which I have to admit made it somewhat more palatable as far as I was concerned. I did love watching her squirm. She tried to change Dad’s mind, but she learned pretty quickly who was in charge around here. Anyway, it’s water under the bridge, as they say. She finally managed to talk Dad into building that monstrosity next door.”
Robin’s cell phone rang. She reached into her pocket, checked the phone’s caller ID. “It’s Blake,” she said. “My fiancé,” she explained to Landon, who hadn’t said a word since joining them at the table ten minutes earlier.
“No phone calls at dinner,” he said before Robin could answer the call.
Robin stared at her nephew, so shocked to hear him speak that she didn’t immediately register the anger in his voice. “It’ll just take half a second. I’ll tell him I’ll call him back.”
“No phone calls at dinner,” Landon repeated, louder this time.
Robin quickly tucked her phone back into her pocket, listening as it rang another four times before voice mail picked up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“He’ll be fine,” Melanie said.
Robin swallowed another forkful of chili. “So, Landon,” she began, deciding to take advantage of Landon’s sudden interest in communicating, “did your mother tell you that we saw your friend, Kenny, at the hospital today?”
Landon said nothing. The only indication he gave of having heard her question was the increasingly frantic shaking of his leg underneath the table.
“He told us that you asked him to look in on Cassidy.”
Landon began making clicking noises with his tongue.
“The sheriff wouldn’t let him see her,” Robin continued, “but he did tell Cassidy, and I’m sure she appreciated your concern.” Robin was lying; in fact, Cassidy had said nothing when they told her of Kenny’s visit. “It was very thoughtful of you.”
The phone in her pocket began ringing again.
Shit, Robin thought. “Honestly, this will just take two seconds—”
“No phone calls at dinner!” Landon banged on the table with both hands, his body beginning to rock back and forth.
“It’s just that it could be important,” Robin said, removing the phone from her pocket and rising from her chair. “I’ll take it in the other room.”
“No phone calls at dinner!” Landon jumped from his seat, lunging for the phone in Robin’s hand.
“Wait!” Robin cried as he tore it from her grasp. “What are you doing? Stop!”
“No phone calls at dinner!” Landon hurled her phone against the far wall.
Robin watched in horror as the phone shattered, shards of plastic falling to the kitchen floor.
“No phone calls at dinner!” The words bounced off the walls as Landon ran from the kitchen.
Seconds later, Robin heard the front door open, then slam shut.
“Guess that settles that,” Melanie said.
* * *
—
The first thing Robin did the next morning was to borrow Melanie’s car and drive downtown to purchase a new cell phone.
Melanie declined to come with her. Landon was still in his room, having stayed out until well past midnight. He’d spent the balance of the night rocking in his chair while Robin lay awake in her bed, a prisoner of his rhythmic compulsion, wondering where he’d been. “He’ll be back,” was all Melanie had said, shrugging off Robin’s concern and retreating to her bedroom to watch TV.
Robin had used the landline in the kitchen to call Blake, but he hadn’t picked up. Nor had he returned either of the messages she’d left on his voice mail before she went to bed. She’d dozed off briefly, only to wake up when Landon returned, and when she finally did manage to fall asleep at almost five o’clock in the morning—courtesy of the two Ativan tablets she’d taken out of desperation the hour before—a small snake had slithered out of an unpleasant dream to bite her in the neck, its imagined sting keeping her awake until she finally pushed herself out of bed at seven A.M., exhausted and vaguely hungover from the drugs still in her system.
Main Street was surprisingly busy for ten o’clock on a weekday morning. Robin had forgone breakfast at home, not wanting to risk another unpleasant encounter with Landon. Instead, she chose to stop by the local Starbucks. In front of her in line were two women in matching pink beautician uniforms and a man in a business suit nuzzling the neck of his female companion. Behind her two young women were whispering.
“I was at their house-warming party last week,” one of them was saying. “You should see that place…”
Robin turned slightly, trying to identify the women while pretending to be checking the clock on the wall. Both women were in their late twenties, ponytailed, and dressed in stylish workout clothes. Neither looked familiar. As Robin was turning back, she caught sight of a man standing outside the front window, his face pressed against the glass, one hand cupped over his eyes. There was something familiar about him, although she couldn’t make out his features. Are you looking at me? Do I know you?
Don’t be silly, she admonished herself. Just because a man is looking through the window doesn’t mean he’s looking at you. He’s probably checking how long the line inside is. You’re being paranoid.
“I heard there was trouble in Paradise,” the woman in front of her was saying to the man nibbling on her neck.
“A friend of mine said he saw her cozying up to Donny Warren a few days before the murder,” the man replied. “Rumor has it they were more than just friends.”
“You think he had something to do with what happened?”
The man shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s kind of an oddball.”
Who are these people? Robin wondered. And who the hell is Donny Warren?
“Excuse me,” someone said.
Robin felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around.
“You’re up,” said one of the ponytailed women behind her, pointing at the counter.
A uniformed young man was gazing at her expectantly. “What’ll it be?”
“A mochaccino and a cranberry muffin,” Robin said, her voice so soft he couldn’t hear her and she had to repeat her order.
“Afraid we just ran out of cranberry muffins.”
“Whatever, then. You choose.”
“The buttermilk blueberry muffins are my favorite,” he offered with a toothy smile.
“Sure. Why not?”
She paid for her order and stepped aside, munching on the stale muffin while waiting for her mochaccino.
The outside door opened and a woman walked in, about to join the line. Suddenly she came to an abrupt stop. “Robin?” It was part question, part exclamation. “My God! You poor thing. I knew you’d come back. How are you?”
Robin recognized Sandi Grant’s grating voice before she recognized her face, which was considerably fuller than the last time Robin had seen her. Though they’d gone through Red Bluff High together, sharing many of the same classes, they’d never really been friends, so Robin was somewhat skeptical of the other woman’s concern. She swallowed the chunk of muffin she’d been chewing, feeling a blueberry stick to the roof of her mouth. “I’m okay. You?”
Sandi was clearly surprised by the question. “Me? I’m fine. Well, pregnant aga
in. Obviously. My fourth. Jason’s killer sperm strikes again!” She smiled, then frowned, as if realizing a smile might be inappropriate. “What’s happening with your dad? Is he going to make it?”
“I don’t know.” Robin looked around the room uneasily, trying to extricate the errant blueberry from the roof of her mouth with her tongue. Sandi’s voice had attracted the attention of everyone in the place. All eyes were now focused squarely on her.
“The whole thing is so crazy,” Sandi was saying. “I can’t believe Tara’s dead. Do the police have any idea who did it?”
Whispers began swirling around her like a sudden summer breeze.
“Who is she?”
“That must be the other daughter.”
“She’s so thin.”
“I heard little Cassidy’s still critical. Poor sweet thing,” Sandi said as Robin finally succeeded in freeing the stubborn berry. “Do you know when Tara’s funeral will be?”
“No. I…” Out of the corner of her eye, Robin saw cell phones being lifted. She raised her hand to hide her face from the telltale click of prying cameras.
“Are you staying at Melanie’s? She must be reeling. I mean, how much can one person take, what with that boy of hers…Is it true he’s a suspect?”
“One mochaccino,” a voice behind the counter called out.
“Mine!” Robin reached eagerly toward it.
“Are you Robin Davis?” someone asked. “You probably don’t remember me, but…”
“No, sorry.” Robin grabbed her mochaccino and fled the premises without looking back.
“Well, that was rather rude,” she heard Sandi say as the door shut behind her.
* * *
—
There were two people waiting to be served when Robin entered the T-Mobile store at the end of the block. Luckily, she didn’t know either of them. Nor did she know the young male employees assisting them, although she couldn’t help wondering if they knew Landon. She made a concerted effort while she waited to avoid thinking about last night’s incident with her nephew, which of course ensured that it was all she thought about.
