“Who, Alex?”
“My mother. And Craig. They’re downstairs. I heard them down- stairs.”
“Doing what?”
“Fighting. Yelling.” She closed her eyes. “Screaming.”
“What are they screaming?”
“I hate you. I hate you,” Alex said, her voice even and level, disturbingly so.
“I wish you were dead,” Daniel murmured just as Alex said the same words in that even monotone. “She thought her mother was saying it to her.”
“But she said it to Craig,” Meredith said quietly.
“Who’s saying this?” Mary asked.
“My mother. My mother.” Tears were running down her face, but her expression stayed calm. Doll-like. A shiver of apprehension raced down Daniel’s back.
“What is Craig saying?” Mary asked.
“She was asking for it with her short shorts and halter tops. Wade gave her what she wanted.”
“And your mother? What’s she saying now?”
Alex stood abruptly and Mary stood with her. “Your bastard son killed my baby. You let him. You didn’t stop him.” Her breath quickened and her voice hardened. “Wade did not kill her.” She walked down a step and Mary held out her hands in case she stumbled. “You took her. You took her and dumped her in that ditch. Did you think I wouldn’t see the blanket, that I wouldn’t know?”
She stopped and Daniel realized he was holding his breath. He made himself exhale and draw another breath. Beside him, Meredith was trembling.
“What are they saying?” Mary asked.
Alex shook her head. “Nothing. She broke the glass.”
“What glass?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see.”
“Then come to where you can see.”
Alex came down the remaining stairs and walked to the doorway to the living room.
“Can you see now?”
Alex nodded. “There’s glass on the floor. I’m standing in it. It hurts my feet.”
“Do you cry?”
“No. I don’t want him to hear me.”
“What glass did your mother break, Alex?”
“From his gun cabinet. She has his gun. She’s pointing it at him and screaming.”
“Oh, God,” Daniel murmured. Meredith clutched his hand, hard.
“What is she screaming, Alex?”
“You killed her and wrapped her in Tom’s blanket and dumped her, like garbage.”
“Who is Tom?” Daniel hissed.
“Alex’s father,” Meredith whispered, horrified. “He died when she was five.”
Alex had gone still, her hand on the door. “She has his gun, but he wants it back.”
“What is he doing?” Mary asked, her voice very calm.
“He’s grabbing her wrists but she’s fighting.” New tears began to flow down Alex’s cheeks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you like you killed my baby.” Her head wagged from side to side. “I didn’t kill her. Wade didn’t kill her. You can’t tell. I won’t let you tell.” She drew a deep breath.
“Alex?” Mary asked. “What’s happening?”
“She saw you. She told me she saw you.”
“Who saw, Alex?”
“Me. She says, ‘Alex saw you with the blanket.’ ” Then she flinched. “No, no, no.”
“What happened?” Mary asked, but Daniel already knew.
“He turned the gun under her chin. He shot her. Oh, Mama.” Alex leaned her temple against the door, wrapped her arms around her own body, and rocked. “Mama.”
Meredith shuddered out a sob, tears running down her face. Daniel squeezed her hand tighter, his throat too tight to breathe.
Alex stopped rocking, again going statue still.
“Alex.” Mary returned to her quietly authoritative tone. “What do you see?”
“He sees me.” Panic sharpened her voice. “I’m running. I’m running.”
“And then?”
Alex turned her head to look at Mary, her face pale and haunted. “Nothing.”
“Oh my God.” Next to him, Meredith was sobbing quietly, her fist pressed to her mouth. “All this time… She’s carried that all this time and we never helped her.”
Daniel pulled her to his side. “You didn’t know. How could you know?” But his voice was hoarse, and when he touched his face, his cheeks were wet.
Meredith turned her face into his shoulder and wept. At the console Ed swallowed audibly and kept taping. Serene and outwardly composed, Mary led Alex back to the chair and began the process of bringing her back. But when Mary looked up into the camera, her eyes were stark and horrified.
His arm still around Meredith’s shaking shoulders, Daniel pulled out his cell phone and dialed Koenig’s number. “It’s Vartanian,” he said, his voice cold, his rage barely leashed. “Have you found Crighton yet?”
“No,” Koenig said softly. “Hatton’s sitting with a group of bums now. One of them says they saw him two hours ago. Why? What’s wrong?”
Daniel swallowed. “When you find him, arrest him.”
“Yeah,” Koenig said slowly. “For beating that nun.” He paused. “What else, Danny?”
Daniel had nearly forgotten about Sister Anne. “For the murder of Kathy Tremaine.”
“Ah hell. You’re kidding. Dammit.” Koenig sighed. “Will do. I’ll call you when Hatton has a fix on his location.”
“Get backup before you go in.”
“You bet. Daniel, tell Alex I’m sorry about her mom.”
“I will.” He slipped his cell back into his pocket, then nudged Meredith into motion. “Come on. Mary’s almost done. We’ll be there when Alex comes out of the house.”
Chapter Eighteen
Dutton, Wednesday, January 31, 10:00 p.m.
It was, Alex thought, surreal. Now that it was over, now that she knew…
But perhaps on some level she’d always known.
She looked over at Daniel, who drove from Bailey’s house toward Main Street with both hands clutching the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. He’d been stealing what he probably thought were surreptitious glances at her since he’d put her in the car and buckled her in with such gentleness she wanted to weep.
He had been. Weeping. She could see it in his eyes the moment she’d walked out of the house with Mary McCrady straight into his arms. He’d held her so tight… and she’d clung, needing him. Meredith had still been crying as she waited to wrap Alex in her arms. She’d begged forgiveness, when there was nothing to forgive.
It just was. And had always been. She just hadn’t wanted to remember.
Now she remembered, every last second of it, up until Crighton grabbed her by the collar and the world had gone black. The next thing she knew she’d been in the hospital, her stomach pumped of the tranquilizers the police told her she’d taken.
But she didn’t remember doing that. Before, she hadn’t questioned. Now…
How could I not?
She might never know. All she knew was that her mother had not taken her own life. At the same time, she’d had in her hands a weapon that could have saved her life.
That was the image that haunted Alex the most.
“She just stood there,” she murmured. “She had the gun in her hand and she just stood there until it was too late. If she’d fired, she might be alive right now.”
Daniel’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “Sometimes people freeze. It’s hard to know what you’ll do in that situation. But it’s hard not to blame them after the fact.”
“I feel a little… detached, you know?”
“Mary said you would.”
She studied his profile. He was tired and worn. “Are you all right?”
He huffed a chuckle. “You’re asking me?”
“I’m asking you.”
“I… I don’t know, Alex. I’m angry and I’m… sad. I feel so helpless. I want to make this all go away for you, but I can’t.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “No, you can’t. But it’s awfully nice of you to want to.”
“Nice.” He drew a breath. “I’m not feeling very nice right now.”
She tugged his hand from the wheel, then brought it to her cheek. It felt good there. Solid and warm and safe. “At the beginning I panicked. I couldn’t think of a safe place to go and I thought, ‘What if we went to all this trouble and Mary can’t hypnotize me?’ ”