“I know, Mama.” But she loved the story. She couldn’t picture her father giving her mama flowers. He was so serious all the time. And sometimes he yelled at Mama. She didn’t see him much. She was in bed before he came home from work most nights, and the only time she ever really talked to him was on Sundays. And sharing his attention with her two brothers and two sisters was hard. She preferred to read or play out in the backyard.
Three sisters, she reminded herself as she looked over at the bassinet. Danielle was beautiful.
“Why didn’t you name the baby Rose so you can get roses all the time? Roses are prettier than lilies.” Lily wrinkled her nose. She really didn’t like bouquets of flowers all that much. They were nice when they were freshly cut and arranged in a vase, but they died and Mama threw them in the garbage, almost as if she didn’t care. Lily didn’t know why someone would want flowers around the house all the time when they died so fast.
Outside in the garden, flowers lived forever. They slept in the winter, but they came back every spring. Those flowers Lily liked.
Mama laughed and kissed Lily’s head. “You are a funny girl.”
Danielle started squeaking. It wasn’t really a cry, just a little squawk. “I think she’s hungry, Lily. Will you get her for me?”
“Me?” Lily wanted so much to hold the new baby, but her father told her not to touch, that babies weren’t dolls.
“Of course you.”
Lily walked over to the bassinet and looked at her baby sister. She’d loved her the minute Daddy brought Mama and the baby home last week. But knowing that she could hold her, bring her to Mama to be fed, brought that love to a new level. She could help be the mama. She couldn’t feed her because she didn’t have breasts yet, but she could change her diaper and her clothes and bring her to Mama.
She smiled brightly.
“Hi, baby,” she said in her best mother voice. “I’m your big sister Lily. We’re going to be best friends.”
Carefully, tenderly, she picked up the newborn, supporting her head just like Mama had taught her. She walked three steps to the couch.
Mama put the baby to her breast. She suckled, and Mama got a dreamy expression on her face. “Lily, there is nothing in the world better than feeding your baby. One day, you’ll grow up and be a mama.”
“I want lots of kids.”
Mama smiled. “You can have as many as you want. You can do anything with your life, sweetheart. You can be a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher or a mother. All are important.”
“But mamas are the most important because babies need them,” Lily said, feeling very smart.
“Yes, babies need their mamas.”
A loud thump upstairs made Lily jump, and she stepped closer to her mother.
“Stupid brat! Get out of my way.”
It was Bobby. He sounded mad. Even madder than Daddy got when Mama didn’t do something right.
“Honey,” Mama said, worried. “Go take care of Peter. Hurry.”
Lily ran from the room, her fear for Peter greater than her fear of Bobby. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up.
“No!” she screamed.
Bobby pushed Peter and his little toddler legs buckled. He grabbed at the railing as Bobby stomped down the stairs.
Lily ran up the stairs, and Bobby laughed at her. “Hope you break your neck, Lily Pad.”
Lily ignored him and watched as Peter stumbled and fell three stairs, then grabbed a rail. He cried out, but she caught him. “Are you okay, baby?” she asked as she helped Peter back up the stairs. A door slammed. Bobby was gone. She hoped he never came back. He scared her so much.
She hated him.
CHAPTER 11
Rowan hit the vase with her arm. It flew off the table and onto the floor, water spraying everywhere. The vase cracked and the lilies scattered.
John frowned, uncertain of what had just happened, and watched Rowan turn to Adam, her eyes wide and terrified. “Who told you? Who told you?”
“I-I-I-” Adam stammered, tears streaming down his face.
John reached Rowan before Michael and grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. “Rowan, stop. Now.”
She blinked at John, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Then she glanced at Adam’s petrified face.
“Adam. I’m sorry.” She took a step back, shaking.
“What was that about?” John asked, his hands dropping to her shoulders. He gave her a light shake, worried. He saw the indecision on her face about whether or not to trust him. “You can trust me,” he whispered.
Her eyes brimmed with tears as her hand fluttered to her mouth. She dry heaved and fled from the room.
Damn. So close! He started after her, but Michael put his arm up. “John, give her a minute.”
“Shit, Michael, there’s something she’s not telling us that’s directly related to what’s going on. We can’t allow her to keep us in the dark.”
“Playing big bad bully isn’t going to get her to open up,” Michael said, his jaw twitching with anger.
John ran a hand through his hair. She’d relived some memory when she saw the flowers. She’d stared at them for over a minute before breaking the vase. What about them had set her off?
John shot a glance at Adam. He’d shrunk down against the wall, silent tears running down his face, arms tight around his legs. Rowan was going to feel awful when she realized what she’d done.
He squatted in front of him. “Adam?” No response. “Adam, it’s okay.”
“I’ll call the studio and have someone pick him up,” Michael said.
“No.” John’s voice was harsher than intended. “I promised Rowan I’d take him home.” He reached out and touched Adam’s arm. “Adam, I need you to do me a favor.”
Adam sobbed. “Sh-she hates me.”
“No, Adam, Rowan does not hate you. She cares about you very, very much. She’s sorry about the flowers.”
“She h-hates the fl-flowers. I shouldn’ta listened to the man.”
John’s instincts hummed. “The man? What man? The florist?”
Adam shook his head, still not looking at John. “No, he didn’t speak English too good.”
“Who? A customer?”
“I-I think s-so.”
“Where did you buy the flowers?”
Adam shrugged, his shoulders heaving with quiet sobs.
“Adam, this is very important,” John stressed. “I need you to show me where you bought the flowers.”
“Wh-wh-why? Rowan hates me.”
“No, Adam, Rowan doesn’t hate you. But if you show me where you bought the flowers, Rowan will be very happy.”
Adam looked up for the first time and John’s heart twisted when he saw the agony on the young man’s face. His dark hair was plastered to his skull, his too-white skin ghostly in contrast. “Rowan is never happy.”
The reality of Adam’s simple statement hit John. Rowan was keeping something bottled up inside, and there was no doubt that whatever it was, the murderer knew. He was pulling her strings. Copying her fictional murders, sending her the pigtails, the funeral wreath-
– convincing Adam to buy lilies.
The man was playing with Rowan, forcing her to relive memories John suspected were long buried.
But nothing stayed buried forever.
“Adam, please. This is very, very important. I need you to take me to where you bought the flowers.”
“Okay.” His voice was quiet, like a reprimanded child.
John helped him up. Adam saw the flowers on the floor and his bottom lip quivered. John steered him out of the room and said to Michael, “I’ll be back shortly. If you learn anything from her, let me know.”
“Sure.”
John glanced back at Michael as he left, but his brother had a faraway look on his face. What was up with that? Now was not the time or place to figure out what was going on with Michael, but he suspected it had everything to do with his feelings about Rowan. Michael was no dummy. He knew John was getting involved, too.
He didn’t want to damage his friendship with his brother over this case. Or this woman. But he feared it might be too late.