Well, hopefully.
After all, if people began to see through her mask, what would become of her? Perceived beauty was the only thing about her of value. Well, that and her good body. But unfortunately, there was nothing else.
“That said, now that I have the three of you together,” Miss Bitty announced, walking to the head of the table, “there’s a very important rule we need to make sure we’re straight on. Now that I’m caring for a female minor here, at no time do I want any males alone in the house with her after dark. If I’m here, great. You’re welcome to come in. If I’m not, you will not be welcome inside. Do we have an understanding?”
Louis nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Absolutely,” Joe repeated.
The woman was staring at her again. “You got that, Allie? No boys in the house after dark. No exceptions.”
Allie glared at the old woman. “Why are you going through all this trouble? Giving me that bedroom? The bathroom? Taking me shopping for clothes?” she asked, her tone icy. “Is it money? How much do you make off of me anyway?”
“Not enough for me to listen to that mouth of yours.”
Allie frowned. “Then . . . why do you want me here?”
The woman paused, seemingly taken aback by the question. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Well, to help you, of course. Why else would you be here?”
CHAPTER 13
HALF AN HOUR later, Allie was in her new therapist’s office. She’d expected a man, but when the door to the small waiting room swung open, a redheaded woman peeked out.
The woman smiled at her, reminding her of a piranha. “You must be Allie. I’m Renee. Come on in.”
Allie remained seated, sizing the woman up. She was in her thirties . . . pretty and slim, with long red hair. She looked classy and professional. Another woman who obviously had her shit together. Renee was definitely the type who would’ve shunned Allie if she had met her on the street.
There was no way in hell Allie was going to talk to her.
Miss Bitty patted her shoulder. “Go on. She won’t bite.”
A minute later, Allie reluctantly sat on a plump couch in the woman’s office, listening to the cool air as it hissed from the air-conditioning vent above them.
“Would you like some water?” Renee asked.
“No.” Allie watched the woman pour herself a glass, then settle into a chair.
She picked up a file and a pen, then her eyes met Allie’s. “Okay, then. Let’s get started. First off, I want you to know that unless I feel your life or someone else’s is at risk, I will not repeat anything you share with me during these sessions. Not with your foster mother and not with your caseworker. That means that whatever you tell me during our sessions is strictly between you and me. Do you understand?”
Allie shrugged. “I guess.”
In the span of just a few seconds, the woman’s perfectly symmetrical face went from calm and clinical to a little sad. “Second of all, I want you to know that I can only imagine what you’ve gone through.”
The back of Allie’s neck grew hot. She highly doubted the woman could even begin to imagine her life. If her high-class appearance was any indication of what kind of family she’d been born into, she’d had it good. Real good. “Oh really?” she challenged, her pulse quickening. “You can?”
The woman frowned.
“You said you could imagine what I went through.”
“Well, that’s not exactly what I—”
“Was your mother an alcoholic?”
The calm, “I-have-my-shit-together” expression quickly returned. “No, Allie. I can’t say she was.”
“No? Well then, was she a whore?”
The woman didn’t respond. The only sound in the room was the hiss of the air conditioner.
“Was your mother sick?”
The woman just watched her.
“Are you having a hard time understanding my questions?” Allie asked, pressing her lips flat. She formed her next words slowly, as though she were speaking to a moron. “I asked, ‘Was. Your. Mother. Sick?’”
“Well, if what you mean is—”
“What I mean is, was she sick in the head? Did she hear things that weren’t there?”
“No, Allie, she wasn’t. And she didn’t.”
Allie wondered exactly what the woman knew about her past. About her family. She wondered if Renee had lived in the area when all the shit hit the fan. When everyone realized all the murders that had been committed right in their backyards, beneath their noses.
The murdered truck drivers.
The murdered writer.
That her brother had killed two teenaged girls, the owner of the local diner, and his own mother less than a year earlier.
Did she know any of it? Maybe all of it? Through clenched teeth, she asked, “Have you ever watched someone die?”
“Allie, we should—”
“Hey, I’m still talking,” she interrupted, “and I want to know if you can say yes to any of the questions I just asked.”
“I can’t.”
“Well, I can. My mother was and did all of those things,” Allie said, her voice even louder, her harsh tone startling even herself. “And she really screwed up my brother, who meant everything in the world to me . . . so he killed himself. Right in front of me . . . he blew his head off. Then he bled all over me.” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. “But I guess you can imagine what that was like, too, right?”
The woman’s shoulders slumped and she didn’t look so sure of herself anymore.
“My point is, you can’t even begin to imagine what I went through,” Allie said. “And if I were you I wouldn’t even try, because it might hurt so much you’d wish you were dead.”
Allie stood and left the room.
CHAPTER 14