Chapter 22 #2
Vera drew in a slow, deep breath. Steadied herself before speaking. “Okay. So you’re telling me Jackie was alive and complaining of having hit her head.”
Luna nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.
“What happened next?”
“I . . . I think I was so rattled and so . . . I don’t know.
” She shook her head. “I couldn’t think straight.
It felt almost surreal. I don’t know if I was in shock or denial.
Maybe both. I just walked on down the stairs, right past her.
I grabbed my purse and left to get the paint.
It was like I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t speak to her. I just had to get out of the house.”
Vera ordered her heart to slow its pounding. “You’re certain she was alive when you left?”
“Yes. She was calling after me, saying she was hurt and needed help.”
At this point only an autopsy could determine if her head injury was sufficient to have killed her.
Look at this logically, Vee.
It was her landing at the bottom of that staircase that likely killed her. And no way was a fall from midway down the stairs sufficient to have created adequate momentum for the injuries she sustained.
“We know she got up after you left,” Vera began. “Maybe she started up the stairs to go back to the nursery and reset the furniture but fell back down and that’s what killed her.”
Luna shook her head no. “The furniture was back in place. That proves she went back to the nursery before whatever happened . . . happened.”
And there were those texts she sent to Geneva.
Okay, that made sense. She was unquestionably alive when Luna left her.
“You were gone for well over an hour. It’s possible that it wasn’t until after she’d settled all the baby furniture back into place that she grew dizzy or ill—the way I did from my concussion—and fell down the stairs. Then you found her just as she was.”
Luna chewed her lip now. “But with that hardware receipt showing the wrong time, how will I ever prove I’m telling the truth?”
“We’ll deal with that one if and when the time comes.” Vera almost hated to ask the next question. She wouldn’t be telling a soul if Luna’s response was yes . . . at least not until all the potential loose ends were worked out.
“Do you have any bruises? Scrapes? Scratches?” Vera couldn’t help but think of Alicia Wilton.
Had she been running from the scene to protect herself as well as the child she carried?
Why would she set out to murder her husband and the others, knowing she could be injured or that her baby could be?
But then the other head injury suggested she had been fleeing trouble.
That and the news about the baby shifted Vera’s suspect list for sure.
“I have one bruise on my lower shin. I guess where my leg hit the spindle above the one that my foot hit like a brake, slowing my momentum. I can’t believe the spindle didn’t snap completely in two, considering I’m so huge.”
“You are not huge. You’re perfect.” Vera prompted, “Any other injuries?”
“No. But I was really achy from the twisting and how I grabbed the railing to catch myself. My arm still feels like I nearly pulled it out of its socket.”
“Did Jackie grab any part of you tightly enough to leave a mark or a scratch?”
“No.” Luna’s face scrunched as if she was concentrating hard.
“But I think I scratched her when my hand pulled free of her arm. It was all really fast and really hard.” She searched Vera’s eyes.
“Do you understand what I mean? There was this grabbing and pulling and slipping. It was violent, and yet I somehow survived with scarcely a mark.”
And that likely explained the single scratch on Jackie.
“I do understand.” Vera played the scene out in her head. “Did you check your back? Anywhere you need two mirrors to see?”
“I did when I showered later that evening. No bruises or scratches anywhere.”
“Okay.” Vera felt confident about Luna’s story.
It would have been better had she called Vera after the initial incident, but there was nothing to do about that now.
“The bottom line is you didn’t do anything wrong, Luna.
Jackie attacked you and the child you’re carrying.
As you said, it’s a miracle you and the baby weren’t hurt. ”
“But I left her calling for me to help her.”
“Anyone in your position would have done the same thing. You were traumatized. Maybe in shock. Either way, you did not do anything wrong,” Vera repeated.
“What if she needed an ambulance and I ignored her?” Tears brimmed fresh in her dark eyes. “Jerome will never forgive me.”
“Luna, this was not your fault. If she felt well enough to get up and do the furniture rearranging, then she was in no danger of dying from that initial fall.”
“But Jerome—” Luna abruptly stopped speaking. She stared at Vera, her eyes huge. Vomit suddenly hurled out of her, spewing all over Vera’s lap.
Shit! Vera gasped, her hands up like a shield.
Luna burst into sobs.
Vera grabbed a handful of napkins that were tucked into a pocket on the passenger door and helped her sister clean herself up, all the while offering soothing assurances that everything would be fine.
Except Vera’s outfit.