Hatred was etched on her face, her jaw clenched, her neck throbbing, her hands in tight fists by her side. But her eyes-they weren’t filled with hate. They showed only one emotion: pain.
“Rowan-” he began. Then she came at him with her fists, hitting his chest over and over.
“Who told you? Who told you? You bastard! How dare you invade my privacy! How dare you!” She ended in a sob and he grabbed her wrists and ushered her into the bedroom.
“Tell me everything.”
“What, you don’t know?” she said bitterly. “You obviously found out my name is Lily.” She pulled away from him, her hair whipping his face as she turned abruptly and crossed the room to stare out the window. It was dark outside, pitch black. He saw her reflection in the glass, the agony of her defeated expression, and his heart skipped a beat.
He hated doing this to her, but it was the only option.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Your name was Lily Elizabeth MacIntosh and Roger Collins became your guardian when you were ten. You were born in Boston and your father is still there.” He saw her eyes grow wide in the reflection. “And I know where he is.”
She turned and faced him, her chin up. “But you don’t know why?”
He gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I want you to tell me.”
“Why? You know everything. How long did it take you to dig up those files? Four, five days? Nice job.” Her voice cracked at the end.
“I’m afraid you don’t have another day, Rowan,” he said, his volume increasing. “I think he’s coming after you, and I can’t protect you if I don’t know who I’m fighting against. I think you know. I think you know exactly who’s murdering these women.”
Her mouth dropped open. “If I knew, I’d tell you. I have no fucking idea who’s doing this!” She closed her eyes and John watched as she gathered her strength. He wanted to go to her side, console her, coddle her.
But she’d clam up. This was the only way.
“Convince me.” He sat on the edge of the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.
Rowan opened her eyes and stared at him. She hated John Flynn. All her fears, all the pain she’d buried for so long, filled her heart. She was at the breaking point. Was this what it felt like to lose your sanity? As if a million pounds of pressure pushed at you from within, threatening to explode?
Her chin quivered, and she tightened it, turning to face the window again. Everything had come down to this. No matter what Roger said, how much he’d reassured her over the last week that these murders had nothing to do with her past, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone knew about Dani. Who? She had no idea. Why? Why would he go after her now? After all this time? Who had she hurt so much that he wanted to destroy her?
Was Roger too close to the situation to see it clearly? She had relied on his wisdom and his strength for so long, she didn’t question his judgment. He’d been more a father to her than her own, more a mentor than any of her many partners. She loved and trusted him. But what if he’d missed something? Something important?
She glanced over her shoulder at John. He knew about her father, but his dark green eyes weren’t full of pity or disdain. They were curious, inquisitive, probing.
And understanding.
Maybe, just maybe, an impartial third party could make heads or tails of this mess.
Her voice sounded surprisingly low and calm. “I changed my name. I didn’t want the name my father gave me. I didn’t want his name.” She saw John’s reflection in the glass, unable to escape his watchful gaze. But somehow it was soothing, and she gathered the last of her strength to share her story, her past that had been buried for twenty-three years.
“I was ten years old,” she began, her voice sounding unlike her, distant, flat, odd. “It was late, after eleven o’clock. I heard Johnny Carson in my parents’ bedroom. Something woke me.”
She leapt from her bed, heart pounding. What was that? What was that noise?
There. Again. A cry of pain.
She rushed to the toddler bed in the corner, searched for Dani amongst all the stuffed animals. There she was, between Winnie-the-Pooh and her huge giraffe.
“I started downstairs and I heard my father say, ‘I can’t trust you! I can’t trust you!’ My mother screamed.”
“I can’t trust you!”
“Robert, no! Please! The children-“
And she screamed, but it was cut short. The sound of silence was even worse. Then grunts and an inhuman scream coming from her father. Banging, a shout, a door slamming.
“Beth! Beth! Dear God, Beth!”
“I didn’t want to follow the voices, but I couldn’t help myself. They were in the kitchen.”
The white walls were red, drips running down the smooth painted surface. An arc of blood stained Mama’s blue checked curtains, the new ones she’d just made last month.
“My father didn’t see me. He was holding a knife and it was red with blood. He was drenched, and for a minute I thought he’d been hurt.
“Then I saw Mama.”
An arm draped across her face, her pink nightie stained red. It was wet and blood oozed out of her body. One blue eye stared at her. The other was missing. Her mama wasn’t there. Mama was dead.
“I screamed, but Daddy didn’t hear me. He dropped the knife and gathered Mama up in his arms and rocked her like a baby. But-I sensed he wasn’t there. It was like he was already gone; his eyes were vacant, hollow.
“Then he came in.”
“Who?” John asked, but his voice sounded so far away.
“Bobby. My brother. He was eighteen, the oldest.”
Bobby stood in the door, an odd expression on his face. He was almost smiling. He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. “You. You’ve always been a fucking pain in my ass. It’s your turn.”
“Bobby picked up the knife my father dropped. He told me to run.”
“Run, little bitch. I’ll get you. After I take care of everyone else. One by one they’ll die and then I’ll come for you.”
“I ran.” Her voice cracked and she swallowed. She vividly remembered the terror in her chest.
Get out! Get out! She started for the front door.
“I couldn’t leave the house. Not without Dani and Peter. How could I leave them to die? I ran past the front door just as I heard the lock turning. Melanie and Rachel had been out at a movie and they were coming home. I screamed at them to run, but I don’t think any sound came out.”
Call the police! Please! Go away! Had she spoken? She didn’t know, but the door opened and Bobby stood there, on the other side of the door, and she did scream then.
“Lily?” Rachel said, then her eyes widened as she saw Bobby come at her with the knife. She had no time to scream, but Mel did.
“He stabbed Rachel and Mel in the foyer. Over and over and I watched. It was like I couldn’t move. Then he looked up the stairs at me.”
“Exciting, little Lily Pad, isn’t it?” Bobby was breathing hard, covered in blood, and he plunged the knife again into Rachel’s body and left it there. He crossed over to the hall closet and she knew he was getting Daddy’s gun. Lily turned and ran down the hall.
“He had a gun. Peter had come out of his room and was standing in the hall, shaking. I grabbed him and went into my room to get Dani. I was crying, I couldn’t stop, and we all went to Mama’s room.”
She locked the door but feared Bobby could get in. “Lily, what’s happening?” Peter asked, his voice quivering.
“Get in the closet!” she told him. “Take Dani.”
Dani was crying and Peter held her close.