35
Westport, Connecticut
When she only stares at me, saying nothing, I shrug. “Besides, after I ended your keeper and you didn’t come busting into my home to try and take your life back, I decided maybe you were dead or didn’t want your old life any longer. I know firsthand, the shit we lived through changes a person.”
Maybe giving her a chance at freedom was a mistake. But it was something I had to do. Fair is fair. I have done bad things in my life, but I have never been that kind of bad person. If I had forgotten her and never gone back, I would have been just like her, and I couldn’t do that.
Besides, I knew I had the upper hand. Outside of having her parents exhumed and doing DNA on whatever was left of them after that fiery car crash, she has no way to prove she’s the real Julia.
No other known living relatives. No fingerprints on record.
No identifying marks. Nothing. I, on the other hand, am known as Julia Anderson Belmont from the attorney overseeing the trust to the husband who fathered my child and everyone in between.
Doctors. Clients. Neighbors. Shop owners.
Even the Anderson’s household staff accepted me when I showed up again months after the Andersons were buried.
Julia may have hoped to charge in here and take her life back, but she surely recognizes proving her story won’t be easy. Doing so would also force her to admit that she knew I had been taken by her lover Casey Duval and that she told no one. Not to mention certain other things of which I am aware.
A genuine catch-22.
This showdown was always going to happen. The two of us will have to decide how to live with our respective decisions.
She’s the one who fucked up and brought outsiders into it. I glance at Alicia. Now the ending has to be different.
“I might as well have been dead,” she snarls. “The things he did to me are unspeakable.”
“Pretty much all the same things were done to me,” I counter, “and my only mistake was in attempting to show you that your boyfriend was a damn psycho.”
“By fucking him? I’m sure that told you all you needed to know.” She looks away. “You knew how much I loved him.”
This is a moment where I should feel actual guilt, but I’m reasonably certain all the guilt was tortured out of me years ago.
Guilt and maybe regret are emotions I’m not sure I’m capable of feeling any longer.
Love, too, possibly. Except I love Olivia more than life itself.
But maybe my love isn’t strong enough to extend beyond her.
I didn’t expect to have a child. It was an accident, and Phillip found out before I could undo the situation.
It’s the one thing he has done that I am truly grateful for.
He stopped me from making the biggest mistake of my life.
I would gladly suffer those nine-plus years of hell all over again if that’s what it takes to keep my child safe.
“I did know,” I admit, dragging my attention back to the here and now.
“But it wasn’t like I meant for it to happen or planned it.
After I dropped you off, I went home. When he showed up at my door wanting to talk to me, I took the opportunity to see what I could find out.
We drove back to his place. I didn’t think much of it until I realized you weren’t there.
We argued, and then, well . . . you know what happened. ”
Her eyes tell me that it still hurts, even after all these years. After all she knows he has done. How screwed up is that? The idea that she could still be angry about that bastard is ridiculous. Actually, it’s sick. She is sick. And twisted.
The part that I find the oddest is that she doesn’t ask why he came to my house. Shouldn’t she be wondering why her boyfriend appeared at my door?
Except I know why he showed up. She sent him. But I can’t mention that without telling her how I know. A story for later.
“We both screwed up,” I say, going for a long shot and hoping for a Hail Mary. This might not be football, but it is a game of wits and strategy. “Looking back, it’s pretty clear we both may have made different choices if we had known then what we know now.”
Alicia throws up her hands. “This is beginning to sound like some bizarre kumbaya moment.” She glares at Julia.
“What’re we doing here? We worked for months to set this up.
I took care of you. Kept you alive when you surely would have died.
” Alicia glares at me then. “She was almost dead when Brian brought her to me.” Her attention whips back to Julia.
“On top of that, I spent half a year ingratiating myself first into Eleanor’s life and then into this bitch’s, and the two of you are talking about old times and regrets.
We need to get on with it. I want my money. ”
I raise a hand, wave it a little like a student needing the teacher’s attention. When both glare at me, I ask, “Why did Brian bring her to you? Was he always bringing home injured females like lost puppies?”
I know the likely answer, but I just want to make the point. And maybe piss off the minion a little more. Alicia is not happy with how this is going.
Julia stands. Hands on hips, she paces the room as if she can’t decide where she should go or if she should just sit back down. Vaguely I wonder if that limp is painful or if it is simply an issue with her gait.
“I told you this already,” Alicia says when Julia doesn’t respond.
“She gave us the details about what happened to her and said she could make us rich if we helped her. I looked her up and found you.” Alicia makes a distasteful face.
“It took her a minute, but she convinced us that she was the real Julia and all that money is actually hers. Does that answer your fucking question?”
“It does. Thank you.” Bitch.
I remind myself that I have the gun at the small of my back.
I could try to make a run for it. Wave the damned thing at them if they come after me.
Who knows, I might get to the car before Alicia tackles me or her boyfriend shows up.
She might not believe I would shoot her.
Although I have just admitted to killing seven people.
Bottom line, I can’t be certain the boyfriend isn’t outside standing guard. Until I understand the big picture, I have to be careful.
Alicia is watching me. I stare back at her, and a little mean smile tips her lips. I would so love to punch her in the face right now.
Julia suddenly stops her pacing. She looks to Alicia and then to me.
“Alicia is right. If not for her and Brian, I’m not sure I would have recovered.
” She takes a moment to restrain the emotions that threaten.
“When Brian found me, I had pneumonia and a terrible infection in my leg from a stab wound. I almost lost the damned thing. Alicia knew what to do and got me through the infection. She helped me get back on my feet. She even worked for months to help me walk again and regain my strength. I owe her a great deal.”
Judging by the rising outrage in Julia’s voice and the determined set of her mouth, I suspect there’s more, so I wait.
“I was elated when I learned you have a daughter. Oh, and the accident.” She laughs. “It was all just splendid. I couldn’t have asked for more. It almost felt like karma was taking care of you for me, except somehow you survived.”
The two stare at me as if dubious of how I will react now that all the cards are on the table. Will I start screaming and tear into them like a lioness intent on protecting her cub? Will I make a mad dash for the door?
Again, I recognize the futility of such a move.
“Karma can be a bitch,” I admit.
Julia drops back onto the sofa. Her emotions seem to have lost their oomph. She looks resigned, defeated almost. “We did terrible things to each other, and we can’t undo those horrors. But what you did was far worse. You did this to me with full knowledge of what it meant.”
I can’t deny the accusation, so I choose not to bother. Perhaps she will take my silence for regret or pity, though I feel neither.