42
I stare out the living room window at the blackness of the night.
I want this day to be over, but I fear it won’t end the way I hope.
I insisted Phillip see that a protective detail was sent to Catherine’s.
He’d opted not to have them come here, which I think was a really good idea under the circumstances.
I can’t even imagine explaining this situation to the New York Police Department.
I’m glad Catherine is covered. I couldn’t relax until I knew she was safe.
Now, if we can just get through the rest.
“She wants you to tuck her in,” Phillip says, coming up behind me.
I turn and assemble my lips into a smile. Olivia is already in her jammies and is holding Phillip’s hand, waiting patiently for me to take over.
I lean down and kiss the top of my sweet child’s head and take her little hand in mine. “I’m so pleased to do the honors.”
She giggles and we head for the stairs.
Earlier, while Alicia and Helen prepared dinner, Julia and I explained things to Phillip using the same story we told Rick, leaving out unnecessary details.
There are many things Phillip never needs to hear.
I’m still surprised at how well he took the news.
I’m sure it hasn’t hit him yet that if any of this comes out, his mayoral run may be in jeopardy.
Or, who knows, maybe it will help. Everyone loves a story of survival.
The past couple of hours have given me time to think, to assess all the things said and done.
I don’t require any additional proof that Julia is lying about basically everything.
I learned all I needed to know about my old friend when I had Archer look into her past. Of course, he believed he was looking into mine—it wasn’t like I could tell him who I really was.
At any rate, I told him I needed to know if there was anything that might come back to haunt me since marrying Phillip had elevated my social status, so to speak.
Archer is thorough, to say the least. He didn’t find a single person who had anything negative to say about the only Anderson heir.
But he found a different story in the file kept by the therapist Julia’s mother had been seeing for years before her death.
I always find the idea of a therapist with a therapist amusing. But in this case, it was quite handy.
When Julia was ten, she stole a friend’s parakeet.
Of course, the little girl could never prove it, because when Dr. Anderson, Julia’s mother, confronted her, she had already buried the poor thing in a pot of lilies.
Dr. Anderson later found it. Many such events were recounted in her patient file.
Julia’s lack of compassion and impulse control was why they never had pets. No cats. No dogs. Not even goldfish.
At fourteen, she caused a girl to fall off the ladder of the high diving board at a birthday party. By sixteen, she’d had several boyfriends—all of whom quickly exited the relationship, including one who swore Julia had slashed the tires of his new car. A hefty payoff kept him quiet.
Archer took the file from the therapist’s office and gave it to me. With it being so old, and the patient deceased, it’s doubtful the therapist will ever miss it.
In the end I learned the real Julia was never a good person. But she was the one person in our privileged private school who was nice to me. I suppose I was her pet project. Until I made her see what she didn’t want to see.
I relegate the memories to that place in my brain that I don’t like to visit. I wish the traumatic brain injury had relieved me of those, but then I wouldn’t be able to protect my family. Sometimes you have to keep a reminder of the ugly truth so that you don’t make the same mistake twice.
“Which story would you like to hear?” I ask as I tuck the covers around Olivia.
“The story of me.” She smiles, her eyelids so heavy she can hardly keep them open.
I scooch onto the edge of the bed and lean against her white wicker headboard. “Once upon a time, there was a princess.”
“With red hair,” she chimes in.
I nod. “With red hair. A very handsome prince arrived to sweep her off her feet. They married and moved to a castle in a wondrous kingdom called Manhattan. Just when they thought they could not be happier, a beautiful little new princess was born. The whole kingdom fell in love with her, and she was named Olivia.”
She’s already asleep.
I slip my arm from under her and get up. I check in the hall. Everyone is still downstairs. Good. I take a moment to have a look at my phone for deleted text messages, and sure enough, there is one to Phillip. The one I did not send.
It was Alicia. Had to be. It’s very clear to me that Helen is not in any way involved in this.
Or perhaps it was Julia. If she can manipulate her minions into believing we all need to die for this to end well, then she only has to see that they don’t survive the big finale either. Maybe Rick is part of that plan.
Damn it. I should have added a passcode back to my phone weeks ago, but it was a total nuisance while I was recovering from the worst of my injuries.
Furious with myself, I turn off Olivia’s light, leaving only the night-light on, and close the door behind me.
I suspect whatever Julia and Alicia have planned will be happening soon.
Frankly, it’s possible Rick Howard has been in on what Julia is doing from the beginning.
Even if he wasn’t in any way involved with what happened twenty years ago other than investigating the case, he may have agreed to help her now.
He may have known her real story all along.
Or, for all I know, she may have called him in as soon as she was well enough after her escape.
A promise to reward him well once she had her life back and, voilà, he’s on her team.
His sudden appearance my first night here was no coincidence, I am certain.
I should talk to Phillip. Warn him there may be trouble and that we might not be able to trust Rick. I doubt he will believe me where Rick is concerned. But at least I can try.
Downstairs I find Helen in the kitchen watching out the side door.
“Seen anything?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “So far, no new arrivals.”
I put my hand on her arm. “Helen, I am so sorry you’ve been dragged into this. But I’m also very thankful you’re here.”
She pats my hand. “I’m glad to help.”
I glance back toward the entry hall. “Where is Phillip?”
“He’s in the study. Said he had some calls to make.”
I hug my arms around myself. “I suppose I should see how he’s holding up with all this.”
“He’ll be fine,” Helen insists. “It’s you I’m worried about. How are you holding up?”
I manage a smile. “I’ll survive.” Maybe. Hopefully. “Helen, can you watch the back of the property from the window in Olivia’s room? I really want her protected. It would mean a lot to me if you were the one to keep watch over her tonight.”
“You bet.” She gives my arm a squeeze. “Whatever you and Olivia need.”
I decide to take the risk. “Look.” I glance around just to be sure we’re still alone. “I’m not sure we can trust Aca—”
“I don’t,” she says, cutting me off. “I haven’t since I laid eyes on her. When you get to be my age, you have a feeling about these things. Don’t trust that Wendy person either.”
Relief makes my knees weak. “Just watch my little girl.”
“You got it.” She leaves to take her post in Olivia’s room.
I let go of some of the tension. Now to follow up with Phillip—just the two of us.
As Helen said, he’s in the study. The study is really the library.
Julia used to say that the only thing her mother loved more than her work as a psychiatrist were her books.
The room was floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books.
Phillip renovated the space, turning it into a more appropriate study for a man of his distinguished standing.
The games people play.
“Hey,” I say as I enter the room and close the door behind me.
He looks up from his phone. He smiles. Over the years I have come to differentiate the genuine ones from the automatic ones. This one is for me, and it’s genuine.
“This has been some wild day.” He stands and comes around the desk. He takes my hand and ushers me to a chair, then he takes the one next to it.
“Wild for sure.” For a moment I feel uncertain as to what I should say. I begin with, “I never wanted that ugly part of my past to become a part of our lives.”
The sadness that shows on his face gives me hope that he believes me.
“We’ll get this taken care of.” He dips his head in a succinct nod. “Then we’ll go back home and forget this ever happened.”
I wonder how he believes we can take care of this. Ah, money, of course. “I’m not sure this will go away by just throwing money at it.”
Perhaps Alicia will as long as she isn’t on the verge of doing something stupid. I can’t say about her boyfriend. He sounds like the sort who will keep coming back for more.
“Wendy has been through a lot,” he concedes. “I’m sure a nice nest egg would make her future more comfortable.”
If he only knew.
Rather than argue, I let it go. “We can hope.”
“Don’t be naive, Julia. Why did this woman not come to you before now?
It seems quite the coincidence that she came after the publicity in the Times.
She could be a con artist. How can we be certain she’s even Wendy Neely?
Does she have a birthmark or scar you can use to confirm it’s really her?
A record with the police so we can compare fingerprints?
And why does she have her hair dyed red like yours? This is all very suspicious to me.”
For a moment I hesitate, then I decide to seize the opportunity. “Oh.” I press my hand to my chest in feigned surprise. “You could be right. I never even considered that scenario. It’s been so long and she does look like my old friend. Not to mention she knows so much from back then.”
“We could be looking at a major fraud case,” he suggests. “This Casey whatever his name is was there. He knew both you and Wendy. He could have set this whole thing up. He may have told her, or this woman pretending to be her, all the right things to say.”
Except I know that isn’t the case. But if it makes Phillip feel better to believe this, I’m all in.
I glance back at the closed door. “I think Acacia is in on it too. Have you noticed the way she interacts with this woman?”
As with Helen and Rick, there was no need to mention to Phillip that Acacia is actually Alicia.
He nods, his gaze narrowed. “I should have taken more time to look into her before hiring her.”
I shudder. “The worst part is that Olivia is caught in the middle of all this.”
He reaches across the table between us and takes my hand, gives it a squeeze. “Don’t you worry about our girl. I will see that she stays safe. In fact, I’ve called Rick for an update. He needs to get this going now, not tomorrow.”
I don’t bother telling him that I fear Rick is in this up to his eyeballs. He trusts the man, and nothing I say will likely change that.
And I know for certain that Julia is capable of anything. No matter the offerings of regret or the seemingly demure demeanor she is suddenly presenting, she is one evil bitch.
This is not going to end well . . . for any of us, I fear.