by Gina LaManna
“I’m feeling great,” Kate said, realizing that, as a matter of fact, she was. She was battered and crushed, sure, but she would get over it. She would hope again. Elsie had helped her see that much. “After I check out of here, I’ll leave your credit card alone.”
“So…” Max blinked, his eyes slightly bleary. Kate suspected he had a hangover too. Probably from being up all night with Blondie. “Why’d you come here tonight?”
“I want the answer to one question,” Kate said. “Or rather, two. Did you ever love me? Did you ever truly desire to have a child with me?”
“Kate…” Max sighed. “It didn’t matter how much I wanted it, because you can’t have children. It’s not going to happen for you. I’m sorry.”
Kate felt as if he’d pressed a dagger through her rib cage, dangerously close to her heart. Her breath came in sharp gasps and she released a noise that sounded like a deadly hiss. Kate shook her head. “To think I wanted this so badly, and you didn’t want it at all.”
Max gave a patronizing shake of his head. “You wanted it enough for both of us. I was just…there. A sperm count, if you will.”
It was with unbridled fury that Kate raised her hand and brought it in a clean slap across Max’s cheek. “You should have dumped me a hell of a lot sooner if that’s how you felt. I loved you!”
Max put a hand on his cheek, worked his jaw as if she’d hit him hard enough to do any damage. (She hadn’t; it’d been mostly for show, and for the satisfying sound her palm on his cheek made.) He shook his head as if to straighten everything out.
“I told you before—you’re broken, Kate. Even the doctors can’t find out what’s wrong with you. All the money in the world can’t solve your problems, and we both know it. It’s time to move on.”
Kate wanted to smash his head against the bar, but she was too shocked to do much of anything. She’d come into the rehearsal dinner to find out how a man she’d loved so desperately days before could move on from her so easily. And in doing so, she’d managed to completely forget the power Max had over her.
No, Kate thought with fury. No longer.
It was a teary mixture of rage against Max and aching pain at her inability to have children that gave her the willpower to storm through the love-festooned hall toward the exit. She punched a heart-shaped balloon for good measure, though it retaliated by bouncing back and making her duck as she reached the doors.
At the same moment, Ginger burst into the entryway, barreling toward the outdoor patio in a hurry. When Kate glanced outside, she saw Lulu—with a look of surprise on her face—holding the door open for Ginger’s rampage.
That’s it, Kate thought. She needed air. Fresh air. And a distraction.
Kate followed a few paces behind Ginger. Lulu let the thick glass doors shut behind Kate, opening her mouth with a greeting when she was cut off by a scream.
An earsplitting, pulse-pounding scream.
* * *
Detective Ramone: Ms. Cross, I’ve got a bill here that says an hour of child care was charged to your room today. Do you have children?
Kate Cross: No, I do not. Thank you for pointing that out, seeing as my inability to have children was the very reason my boyfriend dumped me this weekend. You should know that, since I’m sure you’ve asked everyone about it already.
Detective Ramone: I apologize. So are you saying this charge was a mistake?
Kate Cross: No, I am not.
Detective Ramone: How close are you to Sydney Banks? And why did you pay for the care of her child this afternoon when she was a guest of the very same resort? She could have easily charged it to her own room. I’ve cross-checked the sign-in logs, and Barbara verified Sydney was with you at drop-off.
Kate Cross: It was a gift.
Detective Ramone: A gift?
Kate Cross: Is there a problem with that?
Detective Ramone: Not exactly, Ms. Cross. But I am wondering if you’ve been telling me the truth about your relationship with Sydney Banks. Did you see her daughter, Lydia, anytime during the rehearsal dinner?
Kate Cross: Detective, I’ve cooperated enough. I’ve confessed. Please leave the child out of this.
Twenty-Seven
“Oh, Poppy,” Ginger said, rubbing her daughter’s back. “I told you not to eat too much ice cream.”
“But…” Poppy’s lip trembled. “It was free.”
“You don’t have to eat everything because it’s free.”
“Y-yes, I do. It saves us money. We never have enough money,” she said. “That’s what you always tell Dad.”
“Honey, it’s a figure of speech,” Ginger said. “We have plenty of money to live on. Don’t worry. I need you to rest here with Daddy and Tom while I pop down to dinner. I’m going to say hi to the bride and groom, and then I’ll be back to put you to bed.”
“Okay,” Poppy said, exhaling a huge sigh of air and popping her thumb in her mouth. She hadn’t done that regularly in years, but she reverted to the old habit when she was under the weather. “Is Elsie coming back?”
“Do you actually miss your sister?”
Poppy shrugged.
“Elsie’s coming with me, and then she’ll be back,” Ginger said. “Okay, climb under the covers now. Tom, behave, okay?”
Tom nodded, curled up on the corner chair in a most awkward position. He had one leg crossed over his knee and was slouched halfway down, eyes glued to the screen of his tablet.
“Great, love you both,” Ginger said, popping kisses onto their heads. “Love you too,” she said, saving a forehead kiss for Frank. “Are you sure you don’t mind that I’m heading down there alone?”
“Die, Tom!” Frank shouted toward his own tablet. “Dang, son. How’d you get out of there? I taught you too well. You’re kicking my rear end.”
Ginger straightened, appalled. “I’m taking those tablets away from you both if you can’t watch your language. I don’t want to hear any of that talk about death—got it?”
“Sorry, honey,” Frank said, flicking guilty, puppy-dog eyes up at her. “Have fun. Er—did you say something?”
“Forget it,” she said. “I’ll be back in an hour. Love you. Watch so Poppy doesn’t get worse, and call me the second anything changes.”
“Sure, honey,” Frank said, his eyes back on the game as Tom let out a banshee-level wail.
“Come on, Dad,” Tom said. “You pushed me off that cliff. You did it on purpose!”
Poppy ignored both boys (the small one and the big one) to watch Olaf sing on the set of Frozen across the big television. Ginger bit back an affectionate sort of smile for the chaos that was her family. Now, to get Elsie back into the mix, and all would be well in the Adler nest.
Ginger had been calling and texting Elsie all afternoon, and her daughter had replied with enough terse responses to let her know that she was alive and having a great time…without her mother. When Ginger had called to say Poppy was sick and she wouldn’t have time to visit Kate’s room before dinner, she imagined Elsie had squealed with glee.
“Hi there,” Ginger said, slightly breathless as she swatted an errant rose from her face before ducking under a flowery arch. She checked in with the security guard—a red-faced man named Ralph. “Sorry I’m running late. My name is Ginger Adler. I’m a friend of the bride.”
Ralph surveyed her up and down. “Sorry, but I can’t let you in.”
Ginger looked down, offended. She’d worn a pretty navy dress that she thought made her look a bit like a classy sailor. (Frank had particularly enjoyed that very fantasy the last time I wore this, Ginger thought with heated cheeks.) It was a far cry better than her normal yoga pants and sweatshirt.
“Excuse me?” Ginger shook her head, not understanding. “I’m on the list. I didn’t fly across the country not to see Whitney DeBleu.”
“Lady, a Ginger Adler alrea
dy checked in,” Ralph said. “There aren’t two Ginger Adlers on the list.”
“It must be a mistake,” Ginger said. “Here’s my license.”
Ginger pulled out her license and handed it over, watching as Ralph’s ears grew increasingly pink.
“If there’s another Ginger Adler here, she’s the fake one,” Ginger said. “Do you remember what she looked like?”
“Hot,” Ralph blurted, almost as if he had no control over his words. “I mean, she was an attractive woman, a bit younger than you. She came here with someone I thought was her daughter—even though she didn’t look old enough to have a teenage kid.”
“Dammit, Kate,” Ginger snarled. “That’s a friend of mine. I’ll send her out. I think she wanted to walk my daughter into the party because they spent the afternoon together.”
“I’ll get her,” Ralph said, a gleam in his eye. “It’s no problem.”
“You can’t leave your post,” Ginger pointed out. “And for the record, she’s older than me. Got it? We’re both thirty-eight. I’m a few months behind her.”
Ralph looked surprised by the numbers, but not overly surprised. As if raising his eyebrow would require too much effort. “If she’s not out here in a few minutes, I’m calling backup security.”
As Ginger brushed through the doors, she spotted Whitney and Arthur along the far wall, situated behind the head table, deep in conversation with their bridal party. Ginger continued her scan, looking for Elsie. After she located her daughter, she’d deal with Kate. Once they were both squared away, Ginger could show her face around the room, say her hellos, and be upstairs by bedtime.
Why had Kate lied to get in here, anyway? Ginger pondered this as she came around the corner. Was her ex-boyfriend really so awful he’d try to get her uninvited to the rehearsal dinner? That seemed a bit ridiculous, seeing as Kate was on the invite list in her own right as a friend of the bride. It wouldn’t have taken more than a word with Whitney to set the record straight, but maybe Ginger was missing the point. Maybe Maximillian Banks was just that unpleasant.
Ginger spotted Lulu first, standing at a table next to her husband, and wondered if she’d gotten answers from him yet. It was hard to say. The look on Lulu’s face wasn’t happy, and neither was the way she stormed through the crowded tables in a beeline toward the rear exit. She shoved a large glass door open and a wash of fresh air filtered into the dining area.
Ginger barreled after Lulu as someone began clinking a champagne glass. The bride-to-be and groom-to-be stood and gave each other a swooping, romantic sort of kiss that would have had Ginger swooning and nudging Frank on any other occasion. Then Frank would have good-naturedly given Ginger her own swoon-worthy kiss, and they would have convulsed in fits of laughter after.
God, she loved Frank. And her kids. Where is Elsie? Something didn’t feel quite right. It was nothing Ginger could put her finger on—nothing concrete. It was like a tremor in the air, a promise that because of all this love and happiness in one room, somewhere else, a darkness balanced it out.
Ginger picked up her pace. Lulu caught sight of her and paused in the doorway, holding the glass panel open. But Lulu’s eyes were focused on something behind Ginger.
Glancing back, Ginger caught a glimpse of Kate—also hurtling toward the outdoor patio—and noted that she didn’t look good at all. Her eyes were bleary as if she’d been crying, but that couldn’t be right. Kate wasn’t a crier. But her makeup was gone, wiped clean, and there was a raw sort of determination in the set of her jawline.
“Kate?” Ginger called, but it was too noisy in the room, and Kate didn’t hear her.
“Hey, Ginger,” Lulu said as Ginger passed through the open door. “Looking for Elsie?”
“Yeah,” Ginger said. “Have you seen her? And is Kate okay? It looks like she’s upset.”
“I think Elsie’s outside,” Lulu said and then lowered her voice as Kate approached. “I haven’t talked to Kate yet tonight. Seems like everyone’s having a rough go of it.”
“What about you?”
Lulu’s gaze darkened. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“Kate, where—” As Ginger turned toward Kate, her words were drowned out by a scream.
Twenty-Eight
It came from deeper outside, past the glittering koi fish pond and the charming white gate, past the arms of foreign-looking, stiff green plants reaching sharp little fingers toward the sky. The scream didn’t seem to have penetrated through the thick glass walls to the indoor dining area. There was too much clinking and kissing going on at dinner for anyone to be bothered by the call of distress.
“What was that?” Lulu asked. “It sounded like it came from over there!”
“Elsie,” Ginger breathed and then took off.
She barely noticed a door at the side of the building as it opened, one staircase or another leading from the belly of the resort to the wild outdoors. Emily emerged out from the black hole, something deep black, metallic, glinting with moonlight in her hand.
“Elsie!” Ginger cried again. “Elsie, where are you?”
Ginger passed through the sectioned-off lounge area flanked by a waterfall and rock fixture—closed to the public—and out through a little white gate and onto the walking path beyond. A few cautious steps down the path brought her to a private courtyard. Ginger recognized it as the location where Whitney and Arthur were to be married the next day. Already, the decorations were out in full swing.
But Ginger didn’t take the time to study her surroundings, nor did she care that the courtyard looked like a fairy tale. She didn’t see the palm trees standing guard before the tall brick walls, or the various succulents that watched her movements quietly, draping the desert backdrop in shades of green and pink and purple and orange.
A platform stood at the far end of the courtyard, and just before it, an elaborate pergola peeked out from beneath beautiful white cloths that twitched charmingly in the night breeze. A large crate sat forgotten near it, stacked high with replicas of the same customized, lovely bottle of wine in Ginger’s room upstairs, ready to be placed on tables for the next day’s wedding. The scream had come from behind it.
Ginger raced through it all, coming to a halt when a body seemed to materialize at her feet. Ginger’s first thought was Dead! She’s dead! Familiar blond hair sprawled out in a matted, bloody mess, and there was no movement from the young mother.
“Sydney,” Ginger said, collapsing to her knees to feel quickly for a pulse. “Someone help! Sydney’s hurt!”
Shit, is she dead? But Ginger couldn’t linger. Her heart, her very essence pulled her elsewhere, to her daughter. To Sydney’s daughter, Ginger suspected. Elsie and Lydia would likely be together.
Elsie might have come out here to play with the baby, but who had attacked Sydney?
“Mom!” Elsie’s voice came with a sob. “Over here!”
The call came from a distance, and Ginger’s heart lurched. She stood and barreled forward, slowing her pace only as she neared the pergola and spotted Elsie crouched before the stacked bottles of wine, partially obscured from view.
Ginger would have continued running, but the sight of a man standing before her daughter stopped her cold. Elsie clutched Lydia to her chest, appearing terrified but unharmed.
“I want my daughter,” the man said. “I’m unarmed. I only came to get my little girl back.”
“But you—” Ginger halted. “Your daughter?”
“Lydia is mine.”
“You’re Lydia’s father?” Ginger asked hoarsely. In horror, she glanced over her shoulder at Sydney. “How could you hurt your wife? Have you killed her?”
The man blinked, shook his head. “For Christ’s sake, I didn’t kill my wife.”
“But Sydney—”
“She’s a lunatic,” he said. “She stole my daughter.”
Elsie gasped.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Henry.” Emily appeared from behind the towel rack, holding the gun extended. “Get away from her, you bastard.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Henry raised his hands under the moonlight. “I only came here to find Lydia.”
“Well, you’ve already hurt Sydney, and now you’ve sure as hell hurt me too!” Emily said. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t be pathetic, Emily.” Henry faced her. “I haven’t hurt you. We both knew what we were getting into the second you joined me in the airplane bathroom. You’re not innocent.”
“No, I’m not,” Emily said, her voice a low, throaty growl. “But I’m not the one who deserves to die.” Emily raised the gun higher, her eyes narrowed. “And I wasn’t back then either.”
“Stop!” Ginger shrieked. “Emily, wait. Henry, back away and leave my daughter alone. We can figure this out without hurting anyone else.”
“I don’t mean your daughter harm.” Henry glanced toward Ginger. “I’m here because Sydney stole my daughter. She’s mentally unstable.”
“Bullshit.” The tremble of words came from Kate. “You’re all the same, aren’t you? All of you fucking men—nothing is ever your fault! God.”
Kate’s voice was hoarse and raw with anger. Tears streamed from her face. Ginger ached for her; she’d had no idea. Kate’s perfect life…wasn’t so perfect.
“I saw the whole damn book,” Kate said. “Every last, ugly picture. What sort of monster abuses his pregnant wife? Yes, Henry, is it? I saw every last fucking bruise. It’s documented. You’re finished, no matter what happens tonight. It’s over. You’ll not so much as look at your daughter ever again.”
“You don’t understand,” Henry said, his hands raised higher. “Sydney doesn’t deserve—”
“How dare you.” Emily spoke softly, her voice ice cold and deadly sharp. “She’s Lydia’s mother. And you are a disgusting, manipulative, abusive man.”
Ginger watched as Emily’s finger tightened on the trigger. Her heart thumped, blood speeding through her veins. Henry was still too close to Elsie for Ginger to make a break for her daughter, and the only thing she could do was stand and watch as the situation fell apart.