“Here?” Evelyn took a step back. “In this house? Is he here now?”
“No. He respects your wishes, and he left as soon as he heard you were coming.”
“You still should have told me.”
“Why? You have no desire to speak to him. You returned all his letters without reading them. You degrade him in front of your friends.”
Evelyn’s jaw throbbed. “You’re still taking his side, even after all these years.”
Maureen whirled. “And why wouldn’t I? Your father is—”
Evelyn cut her off. “He’s not my father.”
“He is your father. And I’m your mother, whether you like it or not. And we still love you, dearly, regardless of how you feel about us. Your father is a good man. A better man than you know.”
“He’s a savage.”
Maureen’s eyes flashed with anger. “Bite your tongue. Your father is the kindest man I know, and he would give anything to make you happy.” She crossed the room, opened a drawer, and began grabbing out stacks of envelopes and throwing them at Evelyn’s feet. “Maybe if you read these, you would know who he really is.”
Evelyn scooped up a letter and crushed it between her hands. “These are just words, Maureen. I know who he is because I saw what he did. Or don’t you remember, I was there the night he ruined my life.”
“You have no idea what he’s done for you and your friends,” Maureen hissed.
The words kindled a flame of suspicion in the back of Evelyn’s mind. “What do you mean?”
“He…it doesn’t matter. I’ve said what I wanted to say. You would have eventually found out your father is in town, but he didn’t go near Kensington today, so don’t bother bringing it up to the police. He’s on parole, and he doesn’t need that kind of attention.”
Evelyn backed toward the door, shaking her head as she went. “I can’t trust you. Not when it comes to him.” She twisted the deadbolt, turned the knob, and pulled the door open, making each movement with twice the necessary force.
“Evelyn, wait,” Maureen said, following her outside.
Evelyn paused at the edge of the driveway but didn’t turn her head.
Maureen sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out. I—I’m just so glad to have your father back home, and I can’t bear the thought of losing him again. Please, don’t go to the police without getting the facts first.”
“Goodnight, Maureen.” She sank into the Hyundai and buckled her seatbelt. As the car accelerated, Evelyn buried her face in her hands and wept.
11
Evelyn barely slept, and when she did, she awoke a few minutes later, drenched in sweat. Her dreams were of her father, and Jeb, and the worst night of her life. The sounds were so deeply entrenched in her memory that they followed her even when she got out of bed and washed her face in the bathroom sink. The hot water washed the salt of her dried tears away, and she patted her face with a lavender-scented towel. She glanced at her watch and shook her head. 3:37 AM.
Though she felt more tired than when her head first hit the pillow, she decided to stay awake. Wayne would be opening the kitchen soon, and his one-sided conversations would distract her from the painful memories until Sonya arrived. She put on her shoes and retrieved her phone from the antique nightstand, then stepped into the hallway. Her hair was matted and her clothes were wrinkled, but she didn’t care. She planned to go home for a hot shower as soon as the sun came up. Though she tiptoed toward the stairs, the floor still creaked beneath her feet. She winced, hoping the guests wouldn’t hear her and think the prowler had returned.
A headache announced its arrival as she reached the lobby. She massaged her neck, trying to rub the pain away, but it didn’t help. Turning away from the staircase, she flicked a dimmer switch on the wall. The chandelier sparkled as its hidden LED bulbs reached full power, and the shadows disappeared. With the sudden brightness, the room felt larger and emptier than before, the air more stagnant.
Evelyn shivered as she imagined someone watching her from the darkness beyond the windows. There’s no one outside, she told herself. She settled into a sofa and leafed through a Country Life magazine, though her eyes were focused somewhere beyond the pages. Her conversation with Maureen replayed over and over in her mind. She had never caught her mother in a lie, but she felt convinced Maureen would lie to keep her husband out of prison. Was it possible her father was the prowler? The thought was strangely comforting. If her father was the man outside the window, his motivations were probably innocent—he missed his daughter and wanted to see her again. And the same couldn’t be said for a random voyeur.
Her thoughts drifted to Alek, and the rocky start to their relationship. Their first date had ended in catastrophe, and their second with a police investigation. But she didn’t feel any chest-tightening embarrassment when she thought of their time together. Alek wasn’t like the other men in her life—he was funny, polite, easy-going, and understanding. When she was around him, she didn’t have to pretend to be rich, hyper-intelligent, or sensual. She could be herself—clumsy, geeky, socially awkward Evelyn.
She laid the open magazine across her breast like a blanket, and her eyelids fluttered. Keeping her mind focused on Alek’s boyish face, she slipped into restful sleep.
The sofa creaked, and Evelyn’s eyes blinked open. She smiled, expecting to see Alek reclining beside her.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Evelyn grunted and sat up, her smile drooping into a frown. “Oh, hey, Sonya.”
“Try not to sound so happy to see me.”
“Sorry, I was having a good dream, that’s all.” She glanced at her watch and sat bolt-upright. “Holy crap, is that the time? Why didn’t you wake me when you got here?”
Sonya grinned. “Because you looked so adorable, like a sleepy little angel.”
Evelyn wiped her face with her hands. “Are any of the guests up?”
“No, not yet. But they will be soon. I thought you might want to clean up before we serve breakfast. No offense, but you look terrible.”
“I’ve…had a rough couple of days.” She patted her pockets to make sure she had her phone and keys. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. And thanks for covering for me—I owe you one.”
“Trust me, I’m keeping track. Someday, I’ll cash in all my favors at once. With interest.”
Evelyn left the manor and jogged along the street in the early morning light. When thoughts of her father probed at her mind, she banished them and focused on Alek instead. It was silly, but she wanted to call him and ask him about his night, just to hear his voice. But she didn’t want to sound desperate, so she decided to call him in the evening when he was off work.
As she mounted the stairs of her apartment building, she glanced at her keychain and singled out a bronze key. At the landing, she reached for her door and froze. Dread curled around her heart, and her eyes bounced from the black letters to the apartment number, then back again. She told herself it was a dream—that she was still asleep in the lobby. With a trembling hand, she reached out and touched the paint. The humid air had kept it from drying, and her fingers came away sticky. Only after she felt the tacky substance on her skin did she accept the truth, and a belated gasp escaped her lips.
A question had been spray-painted on her door in tall black letters and underlined twice. Where were you last night??