“Did you come up here every year when you were a little girl?” Audra asked.
“They didn’t have the light show then.”
“Gosh,” Audra breathed. “There were Christmas trees back then, weren’t there?”
“Yes, dear,” Denise said dryly. “The celebration of Christmas began shortly before my birth.”
“That’s good.”
Denise gave her a sidelong look to see if she were kidding. She wasn’t. “Are you cold?”
“Nope.”
“I’m freezing. If we wait until tomorrow night, Daddy can come with us.”
“He’ll prob’ly have another emergency. Besides, we’re almost there.”
Denise sighed. An hour, she thought. In an hour I’ll be back in my nice warm house with my cold pills and my spearmint tea. Maybe there will even be something good on television.
“Was Laurel at the funeral today?” Audra asked abruptly.
“Yes.”
“I know she didn’t bring April and Alex, but she said I could go over and play with them at her house.”
“Yes,” Denise said neutrally. At the moment she couldn’t imagine paying Laurel a visit under any circumstances.
“Mom, she said I could come over.”
“I know.” Denise felt a headache forming behind her eyes and her neck stiffening. “We’ll just have to pick a good day.” Which won’t be soon, she thought.
Audra leaned forward and turned on the radio. A rap song blasted through the car. Denise winced and turned off the radio. “Mommy!” Audra wailed.
“I can’t stand that stuff.”
“I want to hear music.”
Denise pushed in a CD. In a moment the Carpenters were singing Christmas songs.
“Oh, wow,” Audra grumbled. “That’s about a hundred years old.”
“Not quite and it’s very pretty. Quit complaining.” Audra began fumbling with things on the seat. “What are you looking for?”
“My camera.” Wayne had bought her a disposable camera for her trip to the light show.
“Audra, you can’t get any good pictures with all this snow.”
“We always take pictures.”
“Not in the snow. You’ll just get a blur. For heaven’s sake, we have a videotape of the light show.”
“It’s not the same. Where is my camera?”
She began rummaging again. Denise clenched her teeth. This wasn’t going to be a good evening. Audra was still in high gear after the Christmas party scare. Denise herself felt terrible. Nevertheless, she’d come this far. She wouldn’t turn back for home now. Audra would have a fit.
Who’s the parent here? Denise could hear her mother saying. Be quiet, Mom, she answered mentally. You have no idea what I’m going through. It won’t kill me to indulge her for a couple of days, especially since I’m the one responsible for her being terrorized.
They passed through Ornament Way, where on either side of the road giant Christmas tree ornaments hung suspended from towering candy canes. Audra was already squealing with delight as Denise stopped at the donation booth.
“I’m gonna take every picture on the roll of film,” Audra announced. “How many is that?”
“Twenty-seven. And if you insist on photographing everything, roll down the window before you take a shot. Otherwise all you’ll get is splatters of snow on the glass.”
“I know,” Audra said in the beleaguered tone she’d recently adopted that indicated Denise was always stating the obvious. Denise’s teeth clenched. She knew children had to grow up and assert their independence, and that she’d probably used the same tone with her own mother, but Audra was only eight. It was too soon.
“Audra, I want you to stop talking to me that way,” she snapped.
“What way?”
“You know.”
Audra sighed gustily. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive, Denise thought. My nerves are strung tight. I’d better cool it.
“Are you cold?” Denise asked again.
“No, I’m fine. But how come you keep rubbing your neck?”
“It’s a little stiff.” Actually, it was rigid. “Look, honey, there’s the Christmas Express.”
The display featured a full-sized train that seemed to be moving along.
“It’s beautiful!” Audra cried, rolling down the window. Cold air and snowflakes poured into the car as Audra snapped a picture.
“Okay, we’re past it. Roll up the window. It’s freezing.”
Audra closed the window. “Mommy, can we listen to other music?”
“No, I like this.” Audra sighed again. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stand that stuff you listen to.”
“Okay,” Audra said in a deflated tone.
“Look, here’s the Waving Snowman.”
Audra rolled down the window again. More cold air. More snow. Denise sneezed and her nose started to run. Her throat was beginning to hurt. “Audra—”
“I know, I know, roll up the window.”
They passed the little girl with the hobby horse, then the animated equestrian.
“That guy with the horse is Buzzy’s favorite,” Audra informed her.
“Who’s Buzzy?”
“Buzzy Harris. My boyfriend. I told you.”
“And I told you that you are too young for a boyfriend.” Denise felt rather than saw Audra roll her eyes again. “He hasn’t been kissing you, has he?”
“Mommy!”
“You told me he tried to kiss you. I will not have some little boy slobbering all over you—”
“He doesn’t kiss me and he doesn’t slobber. What’s wrong with you, Mommy? How come you’re being so mean tonight?”
“I’m not mean. I just don’t feel well—”
“Look, here’s Cinderella!”
Denise glanced at the glittering lights forming the huge, turreted castle, the horses leading Cinderella’s magnificent carriage, the big orange pumpkin looming ahead, a reminder of passing time.
“This is my favorite display!” Audra gushed.
“Take a picture.”
“Pull over so I can get a good one.”
“I’ll block traffic.”
“Not if you pull over far enough. Mommy, please.”
Denise felt as if someone were pounding on her head with a hammer. The tension of the last few days had been unbearable. The beautiful house of cards she’d built for herself over the last thirteen years was about to come tumbling down, and she had so much to lose. Wayne. Her precious Audra.
The little girl opened the door and stepped out into the show. “Audra, get back in the car!”
“I wanna get closer to the lights.”
Denise’s frustration and fear ignited. “Audra Price, I said get back in the car this instant!” she screeched in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. The child looked at her in shock. “You heard me!” Denise ranted, appalled at her own tone but unable to stop herself. “Audra, right now or I swear I’ll—”
Audra’s face crumpled and she bolted away from the car, her small booted feet throwing up a skim of snow in front of her.
“Oh, God, what have I done?” Denise moaned as she opened her door and circled the car, following the silhouette of the fleeing girl. “Audra?” she called. Because of her cold, her voice emerged raw, almost threatening. No one would be reassured by that rough sound, Denise thought, but she couldn’t do anything about it. “Audra!” she shrieked again. Dammit. Why had she kept carping at the child? Why was her voice so awful? Why had she even come out here tonight?
The displays were so large they had to be set far back from the road. Denise caught a glimpse of Audra in the glow of the yellow, green, and red carriage lights, then she was gone. The snow abruptly picked up speed, peppering Denise’s face, covering her glasses. She stopped, took them off and wiped them dry on a tissue in her pocket, but a moment after she put them on again, snow speckled them. She took them off and stuck them in her pocket. Her extreme nearsightedness turned everything into a blur.
Blind with the glasses, blind without them, she thought in disgust. Why was she one of the few people in the world who couldn’t wear contacts?
“Audra!” Nothing. She plowed ahead. “Audra, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” Denise began to cry. She stumbled and almost fell. She turned and looked back at the road. A steady stream of headlights drifted along, their glow diffused by the snow and her weak sight. Still, she could make out her own headlights, stationary beside the road. Looking the other way, she saw multicolored lights of the Cinderella display looming over her. She’d always known the displays were tall, but actually standing beside one was almost frightening. The red turrets of the castle looked gigantic. She suddenly felt small and helpless.
She trudged on through the snow, following a trail of footprints. “Audra!” she shouted. “Audra, don’t do this!”
Her curly hair twisted into a hundred corkscrews. I probably look like Medusa, she thought. Tears and snow froze on her eyelashes. Her teeth chattered. The trail circled the display and she rushed ahead. She hadn’t worn boots. Her shoes were filled with snow and she couldn’t feel her feet anymore. “Audra! Please come back!” Her voice cracked but she kept trying. “Audra, I’m sorry.”
She stood behind the display now, glancing over her shoulder. What looked beautiful from the road now took on a surreal quality. Blinding lights hulking over her from behind. Utter darkness ahead. She knew she was invisible from the road.
A footstep crunched in the snow. She whirled, at first seeing nothing. “Audra!” she cried, brushing frantically at her eyes. “Aud—”
The first blow caught her along the collar. She heard bone cracking and staggered but somehow kept her footing. “My God!” she gasped, clawing at her injury, not sure what was really happening. Then she felt the warm blood seeping below her sweater.
Denise turned and tried to run. A second blow to the back of the head brought her to her knees. She began crawling, her fingers digging for solid earth and finding only lacy snow. “No,” she quavered. “No, please—”
Another blow to the neck. She went facedown in the snow. “Audra,” she mumbled, blood pouring from her mouth onto the pristine, fluffy white. “Run, baby. Run away…”
Her body was numb but she could still feel the cold wetness under her cheek, the blood running into her eyes, blinding her. She lay shuddering, her last vision that of a beautiful little girl with long, curly brown hair and huge eyes the color of dark chocolate laughing up at her. “Audra, I love you,” she whispered as the last blow crushed her skull.
Thirteen
1
Laurel was dreaming of Faith. They were little girls with flowers in their hair, but instead of daisies, Faith wore a crown of red carnations. She danced to “Moonlight Sonata” slowly, gracefully. When she finished, she looked at Laurel and said, “You’re the only one. You know.”
Ringing. She moaned as Faith drifted away, still saying “You know.” “I know what?” Laurel cried. Ringing. Weight on her body. Something warm on her face. She opened her eyes. April sat atop her, licking her cheeks, and the phone rang insistently.
“I’m awake, April,” she muttered, struggling under the dog’s weight. “Move over, puppy.”
April sat solidly on her abdomen, clearly frightened by all the muttering and thrashing Laurel had done earlier. She stretched her arm as far as she could, reached the receiver, and finally got it to her face. “Hello.”
“Laurel. Kurt.”
“Kurt.” Laurel looked at the clock. Twelve-thirty. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s no easy way to tell you this.” He drew a deep breath. “Denise Price is dead. She’s been murdered.”
Laurel felt as if every drop of blood in her body gushed to her lower extremities. Her head swam, her vision darkened. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
“Laurel, are you there?”
“Yes.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “How?”
“She took Audra to Oglebay to see the lights. For some reason the kid got out of the car—we don’t know why because she’s barely speaking. Apparently Denise went after her. She was beaten to death behind one of the displays.”
“Beaten? Like Angie?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God, Audra didn’t see Denise being murdered, did she?”
“We don’t know. She’s in the hospital in shock. We do know she saw the body and it was bad. There’s not much left of Denise’s face.”
“Oh, no,” Laurel moaned, feeling as if someone were plunging a knife into her stomach. What a horrible image for anyone to see, but Denise’s own daughter…Laurel fought to catch her breath. “Kurt, was there anything on or around the body?”
He paused. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but yes. There was one of those magic cards you told me about.”
“Tarot cards. It was the judgment card, wasn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know one card from the other. But there was also a heart and a six.”
“Where?”
“She had on a light gray coat. They were drawn on the back in blood.”
“Kurt—”
“I have to go now. I thought you’d want to know.” His voice grew harsh. “Maybe this could have been prevented if—” She heard him draw a ragged breath. “Oh, to hell with it. Good-bye, Laurel.”
She held on to the receiver after Kurt hung up. She felt paralyzed. Saturday night Denise had been throwing a Christmas party in her beautiful home. Two nights later she was dead. Not just dead, murdered. Bludgeoned like Angie. And Audra had seen her.
The dogs began to bark. Laurel tensed. What did they hear? An intruder? Had someone come here to kill her the way they had killed Denise?
Someone knocked on the door. Laurel still clutched the receiver, huddling in her bed. Someone knocked louder.
Well, good heavens, she thought, a killer wouldn’t bother to knock. Or would he if he were a friend…
Pounding again, then someone yelled, “Laurel, it’s Monica! Open the damned door!”
There was no mistaking that strong, husky voice. Laurel slowly felt life coming back into her. She finally put down the receiver and threw her leg over the side of the bed, grabbing for her heavy terry-cloth robe. In a moment she opened the front door. Monica stood tall and serious in tight jeans, boots, and a leather jacket. “Will those dogs bite?” she asked abruptly.
Laurel looked at April and Alex, who had backed off and were staring warily at Monica. “Not unless you make any sudden moves,” Laurel said dryly, already knowing April and Alex were not going to warm up to Monica.
Monica strode into the room. “Denise is dead.”
“I know. Kurt just called me. How did you know?”
“I’m staying in Oglebay Park. Police are everywhere. It’s pandemonium out there. It didn’t take me long to find out what happened.”
No, it wouldn’t, Laurel thought. The police could warn her away from the scene until they were blue in the face, but it wouldn’t stop Monica. Sometimes Laurel thought nothing could stop the force that was Monica Boyd. “Kurt said the tarot card was beside her body, and a six and a heart drawn on the back of her coat in blood.”
“I figured so.”
“Oh, my God, what about Crystal?” Laurel exclaimed suddenly. “We have to find out if she’s all right!”
Laurel started for the phone but Monica held up a hand. “I already called. She’s safe at home having hysterics.”
“Maybe she should be here with us.”
“She’s in no condition to drive and I’m in no condition to listen to her weep and wail.”
“You must be shaken if you’re here. Yesterday and this morning you wouldn’t speak to me.”
Monica ignored her. “Do you have any scotch?”
“No, just beer.”
“Well, any port in a storm.”
Laurel got her a can and a glass. Like Kurt, Monica didn’t bother with the glass. She took a long drink, then winced. “God, why don’t you get something
decent?”
“Because I don’t drink.”
“You should. Liquor makes long, lonely nights bearable.” Monica sat down on the couch, crossing one ankle over a knee and staring into the empty fireplace. “I guess I didn’t help much by coming to Wheeling.”
“We should have gone to the police.”
“You did go to the police. What good did it do?”
“I told Kurt night before last. There wasn’t enough time for them to do much.”
“And you blame me.”
“No, I blame me. I’m a grown woman. I should have done what I thought was best from the beginning.”
“Oh, stop trying to be noble, Laurel. It’s annoying. The truth is you do blame me, just like you did thirteen years ago when I talked you into keeping your mouth shut about how Faith died.”
Laurel’s temper rose along with her voice. “Yes. I wanted to blame you then. I want to blame you now because it’s so easy to blame someone else. But I’m not being noble. I should have done something. That is the truth and if you find it annoying that I don’t think you’re omnipotent, responsible for my, Crystal’s, and Denise’s actions, that’s too damn bad. We all acted foolishly.” Monica stared straight ahead, unresponsive. “But there is one thing I do hold you responsible for,” Laurel went on. “Why didn’t you tell us your firm is defending Angie’s ex-husband?”
“Look, Laurel, I don’t decide what cases the firm handles.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Okay. I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d jump to conclusions.”
“What kind of conclusions? That pinning the murder of Angie on someone else would ensure Stuart Burgess is acquitted? That would be quite a coup for your firm.”
In the Event of My Death Page 17
