“But they loved her better anyway, didn’t they?” Someone whispered the words, it might have been Prunella, it might have been Max herself.
“Yeah. Always. No matter what I did. She was their darling, their pet. Mother always made her favorite desserts, always hugged her when she cried, always told her nothing was her fault. I wanted them to look at me, just once. But they never even noticed. Never.” Her head gave a sharp little jerk as she said the word, the ligaments of her throat stretched. “They always said she was the prettiest and the sweetest. If she would just lose a little weight. I never even gained, not an ounce, not a pound, but did they ever see that?”
Jesus, Max felt sick. Was that why the girl starved herself—she looked around the room—why they all starved themselves?
Jada went on, gestureless, throwing all her feelings out in words and mobile facial muscles. “She was always the special one. They never cared about me. Now she’s dead. And she’s going to be a fucking saint, a goddamn martyr forever. I can’t do anything about it.”
They, they, they. Who the hell were they? Mother? Father?
Uncle Bud?
“Is that why you killed her?”
Jada stared at Max with wild eyes, specks of white foam in the corners of her mouth like a rabid dog.
Voice so low the words barely carried on the air currents, Jada answered from the heart. “I thought about it. A lot.” She puffed out a breath. “But then her dying really didn’t do any good. Now they’ll always think about her first, won’t they?”
Finally, Jada burst into tears.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Can I speak with you a moment, Max?” As the other four filed out the door, Jada first, head down, Dr. Shale held Max back with the question.
Max headed her off at the pass. “Maybe this wasn’t the best time for me to join the group.”
The doctor closed the door, turned and leaned against it with her hand still on the knob behind her. “Why? Because Jada had a breakthrough?”
Max knew her jaw dropped. “You call that a breakthrough?”
“She’s never said how her feelings have been ignored by her family. She’s certainly never cried before.”
Jada had cried for the remainder of the hour. “Maybe that had something to do with the way you allowed the Sisters Grimm to treat her.”
Prunella smiled softly. “Therapy is brutal. We’re not here to be nice to each other. We’re here to vent. Then once we’ve vented, to come to terms with our own guilt.” She tipped her head. “Maybe you’re not ready for that, Max.”
Since she wasn’t truly in need of therapy, Max agreed totally. “It was still cruel.”
“Yes. But Jada has been equally as cruel. She learned what it’s like to be on the receiving end, and she didn’t like it.”
With Prunella blocking the door, the room had gotten decidedly chilly. Max straightened her jacket. “I don’t think I like your methods, Doctor.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Her hand left the doorknob. Still propped against the door, she crossed her arms. “Are you playing games, Max, as Jada accused?”
Max gave her a level look. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
“I sense another agenda here. Why did you ask her if she’d killed her sister?”
“I wasn’t the only one who suggested it,” Max defended.
“No. But you were the only who said it with such ...” Prunella waved her hand in the air, searching for the word. “With such ... empathy ... as if you wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d said yes.”
“She didn’t say she didn’t do it, Dr. Shale.”
Again, that gentle smile passed across Prunella’s lips, as if she had to explain to a small child. “That wasn’t a confession, Max. If you run to your cop friend with it, I won’t confirm a word.”
“I have no intention—”
Prunella raised her hand. “Please don’t. I forgive your intrusion only because it precipitated Jada’s reaction. She has a lot of guilt to process.”
Max almost snorted. “That sounded a little more like jealousy than guilt.”
“Jealousy and guilt are bred from fear. I believe after today, she can begin her real work. I suppose I should be indignant about what you did, but instead, I have to thank you for the help. Still, I think it’s better if you don’t come back to the group.”
Max admitted nothing, simply agreed. “I won’t.”
“However, when you’re ready to discuss yourself on a one-to-one basis ...”
She risked the truth now, lest Prunella get the wrong idea. “You were right, Doctor, that was a ruse. I’m sorry I used you that way.”
“Your story sounded so good, Max. I believed every word.” She tipped her head, a slightly challenging smile creasing her lips. “Why do you think that’s so?”
“I’m a good actress.”
“I think you aren’t ready to even consider the real answer.”
*