Her features hardened again. “He promised that snake Feldman would be out of business, too.”
“And the twins’ documents were forged?”
“Yes, yes.” She tossed her head and kinky gray wisps of hair fanned out on the pillow. “He said if his girls had to go back to their mother, their hearts would break.”
I closed my eyes, tears burning against my lids.
Judge Hayes touched my arm. “Bobbie? I’m tired. This has been hard on an old woman.”
I blinked hard, pushing down the emotion. So I was Bobbie now. “Can I get you anything before I leave?” I said.
She nodded at the water pitcher and I filled her glass. She took a sip, then handed the glass back.
“I don’t blame the man for wanting to protect those children, do you?” she said.
I shook my head no, not wanting to upset her any more than I already had. But I was lying again. I did blame him. God, how I blamed him.
I returned to P Street and waited for Steven, no longer doubting that my father had deceived my sister and me all our lives. I paced in front of the window, trying not to think, wondering how I would tell Kate, and realizing that working through the emotions that had flooded me in the last few hours might take me a lifetime. First I had to come to terms with the knowledge that Daddy could have had a hand in murdering my mother. Yes. He might have murdered her to keep her from staking her claim on her own children. Or had he helped Feldman do the job? They certainly both would have benefited from her death.
My head throbbed and I still couldn’t seem to arrange the facts in logical order. Did I know for certain Daddy had had anything to do with killing Cloris? Or did I merely fear he might have been involved?
I wasn’t sure. I only knew I would stick to this investigation until I had enough hard proof to bring Feldman and the ghost of Charlie Rose to justice. Nailing Samuel Feldman was now the most important thing in my life.
I stopped pacing and took a deep breath, aware of the stuffy room, my clenched fists, and the awful headache. Darkness had descended early, the smoky-black clouds transforming the late afternoon into night.
And that noise? What was that noise coming from above me?
I had been so distracted, I had no clue whether the sound had just begun or had been going on since I arrived. The way the wind was blowing, and with all Steven’s construction work, something could be very wrong upstairs. The repetitive banging persisted, so I climbed to the second floor to investigate. I smelled rain. A window must be open.
But when I reached the landing, the mystery was solved. The door to the bathroom was swaying back and forth, and every few seconds it swung hard enough to hit the wall.
So where was all the wind coming from? The tiny window in there couldn’t possibly be allowing these huge gusts. I walked over, grabbed the door as it swung toward me, and peered into the bathroom.
A gaping hole replaced what had once housed a commode, sink, and tub. All those fixtures were below me now, a pile of rubble resting on the mudroom ceiling. As Steven had predicted, the bathroom had collapsed and the far wall had crumbled into the yard.
Just then a violent cracking and crunching started beneath my feet. I had no time to grab for the door frame as the damaged entrance gave way.
Down I plummeted, into the saturated mound of broken wood and insulation, the journey a horrible aberration of a water-slide ride. Then everything went black.
24
I stared up at the house, feeling groggy and disoriented. How had I landed here? I remembered climbing the stairs... the floor was wet, the door was swaying in the wind, and—
What was that noise? It sounded like my name. Or had I damaged my brain and now suffered from hallucinations?
No. I definitely heard a human voice coming from above me.
“Abby?”
“I’m in the bathtub,” I croaked.
And I was in the bathtub. Well, half in the bathtub. One leg dangled over the mangled faucet, and my backside rested in three or four inches of muddy water. I rose up on my elbows.
Steven was standing above me where the bathroom used to be. “Are you okay?” he said.
“Yes, but we’ll definitely start here with the redecorating.” I attempted to extricate myself from the pile of jagged porcelain and shattered lumber. But moving wasn’t as easy as it had been prior to my plunge into renovation hell. I hurt. Everywhere.
“How did you end up down there?” he called.
“Obviously I fell, idiot.” But I was the one who felt like an idiot.
“Don’t move. I’m coming down!”
At that point I became aware of the persistent and extremely annoying rain, which, despite the summer heat, was probably contributing to the chills threatening to shake me silly.
After bringing the ladder from the garage and propping it on the side of the house, Steven hoisted me carefully from the tangled pile of beams, fixtures, and broken ceramic tile, then helped me climb down.
“You’re bleeding,” he said quietly, wiping my forehead with the heel of his hand once we stood on the soggy lawn.
“That’s probably mud,” I argued, but then my knees buckled. He caught me, saying gently but firmly, “Shut up. I know blood when I see it.”
My teeth started chattering and waves of tremors began in my shoulders, spreading to my arms and legs as he lifted me and carried me to his truck. After a few minutes passed, I noted with relief that all limbs remained attached to my body and I had all my teeth.
The drive back to Houston was a blur. Thank goodness he didn’t take me to the hospital. Injuries aside, I would have died of embarrassment. Most folks fall in the bathtub, not into it.
Kate paled when she opened the front door and saw Steven supporting me. I could imagine how I must have looked. Luckily I seemed to have sustained only a puncture wound to my butt from a nail and a gash on my forehead. Nothing seemed to be broken, but my hero insisted he had to help me upstairs, and I didn’t have the energy for a dispute.
“Despite appearances, I’ll survive,” I reassured Kate as Steven walked me up the stairs. “To the bathroom. Okay?”
“Sure.” He steered me left at the landing, with Kate following close behind.
“Let’s be real careful before we go in, though. I discovered today that bathrooms have this strange way of disappearing.”
“This is all my fault,” Steven said. “I knew that section of the house was unstable. I should have blocked off the stairs so you wouldn’t go up there.” He helped me sit in front of the vanity.
Webster appeared, wagging his tail. Apparently he considered mud and blood a delightful combination and began licking my legs.
“I’ll be picking up tarps to seal off the damage as best I can,” said Steven. “Otherwise the rain will saturate the entire second floor. I’ll tow your car back, Abby, but before I leave, are you sure you don’t want to reconsider and visit a hospital?”
“Positive. Thanks for everything,” I said.
He left.
I gratefully took the towel Kate offered and wiped my face.
“Tell me what happened,” she said. “Looks like a bomb exploded in your immediate vicinity.” She stooped and pulled my shoes off.
“The bathroom succumbed to the fatal allure of gravity, requiring only my one hundred and twenty pounds to reach that decision.” I took off my shirt, and thank goodness Webster enjoyed sniffing that filthy, tattered remnant better than running his snout over my body.
Kate turned on the bathwater.
“Bubbles. I need lots of bubbles.” I stood on unsteady legs and finished undressing.
“Once I help you in, I’m calling the doctor.”
“I don’t need a doctor. I’ll sit in this wonderful, fully appointed tub—a far cry from my previous experience in the bath—and recover immediately.”
“Abby, for God’s sake, you just fell off a house!”