Chapter 59
Kate sat in a chair in the library, West-Running Brook and The Lives of the Artists on the pile of books where she had left them months ago, the day she had come to look for the blood hearts.
She leaned to better see out the window, making sure she could see Sam walking through the field with Popcorn.
Conor had arrested Scotty, put her in handcuffs, and taken her to the state police barracks in Westbrook. Nick had picked up Isabel and Julie. Pete had been somewhere; Kate hadn’t cared.
“Why did she do it?” Kate had asked.
“She lost her mind,” Lulu said.
“No, there’s a reason. A clear reason—there has to be.”
“Kate, there’s no way this will ever make sense.”
And Lulu was right about that.
“Staging it all,” Kate said. “With Beth’s underwear. Making her look like that . . .”
“To put the blame on someone else?” Lulu asked.
“I don’t know what went through her mind,” Kate had said. “She went crazy.”
“She was drinking more. A lot. And things weren’t going so well with Nick. Maybe they were falling apart. But what did Beth do, to make her do it?”
Kate was watching Sam out the window. Sam had found an old tennis ball and threw it for Popcorn to chase. He retrieved it and bounded back to her.
“Nothing,” Kate had said after a few moments. “There’s nothing she could have done to deserve it.”
“I know,” Lulu had said. “But in Scotty’s mind? What was she thinking?”
Kate didn’t take her eyes off Sam. Now she was petting Popcorn’s head; now she had her arms around his neck. The way she held him, cheek against his fur, reminded Kate of Beth.
“Beth loved two men,” Lulu had said, trying to answer her own question. “Was that it? She cheated on her husband. She refused to tell the men whose baby it was. Everybody but Scotty is a sinner.”
“She was . . . our friend,” Kate had said, fighting waves of fury and hate. “I don’t care why she did it—she killed Beth.”
Lulu had given Kate a little shove, making her push over slightly, squeezing onto the chair beside her. Kate had felt the warmth of Lulu’s arm around her shoulder.
The front door slammed, and Sam walked into the room. She was lit from behind, from sunlight pouring through the tall window. She looked like an angel holding a rabbit. She placed Clementine on Kate’s lap and sat at her feet.
“It was Mrs. Waterston?” she had asked.
Kate nodded, hardly able to see through her tears. What would it be like for Sam, to know her closest friend’s mother had killed Beth?
“It wasn’t Dad,” Sam said, choking as she said the words, tears pouring down her face. “At least it wasn’t him. But oh, Aunt Kate. She was like family to us.” She couldn’t speak for a few seconds. “I can’t stand thinking of Mom knowing it was her. Feeling her best friend kill her.”
Kate stood up to hug Sam. Her niece’s words flowed through her, and for that instant Kate was Beth, imagining how it felt to have the life crushed out of her by someone she had loved her whole life.
“I saw the detective take her away,” Sam said. “She had handcuffs on. Isabel was screaming. Julie was crying.”
Kate nodded. She had seen and heard them too.
“Mom had to visit her father in prison, and now Isabel’s going to have to go there to visit her mother. Will she and I even stay friends?”
Kate hugged her because she didn’t have the answer. She remembered the old phrase: best friends forever. It hadn’t worked out that way.
Outside, tires crunched on the gravel. Kate heard a car door slam. The sound startled Clementine, and she scampered across the room. Sam went to look out the window.
“Who is it?” Lulu asked.
“Detective Reid’s back,” Sam said.
Kate watched Clementine hide beneath the desk chair. She walked over to the desk and reached for The Lives of the Artists. She opened to the last page, saw the heart and all their initials. K, L, S, and B.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. She didn’t turn around.
She heard Pete’s voice greeting Conor. Someday Conor would apologize to him for getting it wrong, or maybe he wouldn’t.
She heard Lulu saying they should leave, that it was time to go home.
She heard Sam trying to coax Clementine out from her hiding place, but still Kate didn’t turn around.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the page where four young girls had once written their initials in blood.
They had been sisters and best friends; they had made promises to each other. There would be no secrets. There would be only love.
“Come on,” Lulu said gently. “It’s time to go.”
Kate stared at the page. She heard low voices behind her.
Leaning down, she kissed B for Beth.
“Kate?” Conor said from the doorway.
Kate stood tall and walked toward the detective. He put his arms around her, and they stood together, rocking back and forth.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning back enough so he could look into her eyes.
She shook her head but felt a small smile deep inside.
He gazed at her as if he could see into her soul, as if he knew what she was thinking: that she could never really lose her sister. She crouched to pick up Clementine. She held her gently in her arms, felt her heart lightly beating through her soft fur.
Then together they had all walked out of the room.