“If I offered to take you somewhere with me now, would you go?”
“Maybe tomorrow. We can get coffee.”
He looked surprised. “You’ll go to the coffee shop with me?”
“No. But I’ll go through the drive-up with you.”
A slow smile crossed his face. “You’ve always driven a hard bargain. But it’s a deal.”
She was sitting on the bed, knees drawn up to her chest, fingers plucking the blanket beneath her. She hadn’t made the bed today. Unusual for her. But it just hadn’t seemed important in light of what was going on around her. “My mom isn’t doing great.”
“I know. She’s under a doctor’s care. I’m concerned with how you’re doing.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Seven years is a long time to think your sister is going to come walking through the door.” Her mom had never stopped believing. But was that confidence, really, or fear? Fear that if she let go of the last remnant of hope that Kelsey would truly be gone forever. “It’s not that I could ever really believe she was dead.” She’d never quite been able to formulate the thought. “But I thought I’d accepted a world without her. And now that I know she’s gone, I realize maybe I never really accepted it all.”
He nodded. “Imagining something isn’t the same as being hit in the face with reality. It’s sort of like losing your sister twice. First, when she disappeared, and again . . .”
“When they found her body.” That was exactly what it was like. “You think I’m going to start that spiral of grief again. Suffer the same sort of setback I did before. But I’m not the same person I was then. Grief is like a stairway, and I’ve been perched halfway up it for seven years. I’m not starting on the bottom tread this time.”
He cocked his head. Maybe she’d said something wrong. But nothing was ever wrong with Dr. Drake. He’d always accepted every emotion, every irrational fear, and talked her through them.
“Closure can be pretty horrible, especially under circumstances like these. But you’re right: it can lend an opportunity to put the past behind you. Eventually.”
Did she want to put Kelsey behind her? Janie ducked her head, letting her hair shield her face. Sure, she’d figured out somewhere along the way that her sister probably wasn’t coming home, but there had still been those times when she’d let herself dream . . . Kelsey could be found. Janie had spun a hundred different scenarios in her mind. But as time passed, they’d gotten harder and harder to summon.
But that was different from hearing how they’d found her sister’s body hidden only miles from their house. Knowing she’d been nearby for a number of years somehow made it all worse.
“I heard the BCI agent talking to my dad when he stopped by yesterday. He told him Kelsey had been in the lake house for a while, but they didn’t know how long. But she’d been moved from somewhere else.”
“Janie, look at me.” He waited until she obeyed. “I’d prefer if you didn’t dwell on details like that. They’re going to be terrible, and not one of them is going to make your grief easier to bear. At some point, you’re going to want to know them. But right now you have a pretty big loss to deal with. Give yourself time to manage that.”
She nodded. Maybe it made her a coward, but she didn’t want to hear all the lurid details. There’d come a time, she supposed, if they ever caught the killer, when the media would display all the juicy facts of her sister’s death, and she needed to be prepared for that. But for now Dr. Drake was right. She needed to handle the now.
Saying a final goodbye to her sister was going to take every last ounce of strength she had.
“I’m going to go. But I’ll be back tomorrow to take you out for coffee.”
“Okay.” She was always glad to have a session over. But this wasn’t exactly a session. And it had really been all right seeing him yesterday and today. She swung her legs over the bed and stood. Walked him to the door. “You’re buying tomorrow.”
“I never doubted it.” He had a nice smile. A quick flash of teeth, but most of it was in his eyes, where it counted.
“I already know what I’m going to order,” she said as they descended the stairs. “A caramel whipped-cream espresso.”
He made a face. “That sounds disgustingly sweet.”
“Just for that, I’m not going to let you try it.”
“My arteries thank you.” At the front door, he turned to her, all trace of humor absent from his expression. “I really think you’re going to be okay this time. You’ve developed a resiliency that many adults would envy.”
Janie made a face. “That makes me think of a rubber ball that you throw against the wall over and over without damaging it. But I guess what you mean is that I’m not losing my mind. Which is always good to hear.”
“No. You’re caught up in a tragedy that would be challenging for anybody to manage. But sometimes I think you’re the sanest person I know.”
His words surprised her, lingering even after the doctor headed outside and down the front steps. She closed the door behind him. If this was what passed for sanity, she hoped she never experienced the opposite.
For the first time, she was aware of a murmur of voices. Curious, she rounded the corner into the living room. She never spent much time here. This space and the formal dining room beyond it were meant for entertaining. The decorations and furniture were fussy and uncomfortable. She’d always preferred the family room.
Her dad always had, too. But he was here now, seated across from that agent. Foster.
“Fingerprints? Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. I had a Realtor show me the property on Fuller Road seven or eight years ago. I guess I was going through a phase when I thought living in the country would be peaceful. I looked at the property a couple of times, as I recall.”
“With your wife?”
“No, I don’t think Claire was ever with me. I came to my senses before I mentioned the possibility to her. It’s grossly overpriced.”
“That would explain your fingerprints in one of the bedrooms.”
“Really? They should be all over. We looked at the entire main floor, as I recall. With the number of people that have been through the house over the years, the place must be full of them.”
“It is.”
Her dad had once thought about buying the lake house? A sick pocket of dread opened in Janie’s stomach, although she couldn’t say why. She backed out of the room and turned to go upstairs again. Then saw her mom standing behind her in the doorway of the family room, still clad in her nightgown and robe, her expression frozen.
“Mom?” Tentatively, Janie started toward her.
But Claire walked by her. Started up the stairs. “I’m going to take a bath now.” Her voice was almost childlike. Her filmy white robe trailed behind her like a wispy wraith. A chill worked over Janie’s body as she watched her go.
Her mother was fading away before her eyes. And Janie wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do about it.
Claire Willard
November 18