“My driver’s test is next month,” Luke said.
She hadn’t. Thank goodness Dana was paying attention to the details. Bree felt uncharacteristically scatterbrained.
Kayla looked up from her notepad. “We got cupcakes. Chocolate. We waited for you to eat them.”
What time did Kayla go to bed? Bree glanced at the cow clock on the wall. Nine o’clock. It didn’t matter tonight, she decided. Kayla would go to bed whenever she wanted.
“I love cupcakes.” Bree walked to the table.
“You hafta eat your dinner first,” Kayla said in a serious voice.
“Of course.” Peering at Luke’s laptop, Bree put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Whatcha working on?”
“A history paper.” He blinked up at her. “I want to go to school tomorrow.”
“OK,” Bree said.
Luke saved his document, closed the computer, and picked at the edge of a New York Rangers decal on the top. “It’s gonna be weird.”
“It will be at first.” Twenty-seven years had passed, but Bree remembered the stares and whispers and isolation with startling clarity. She’d been in a room with thirty other kids, and yet she’d also been completely alone.
“I think the longer I wait, the weirder it’ll be.” Luke smoothed the decal back into place. “I want to get it over with.”
Bree nodded. “If you want to come home at any time tomorrow, just call me or Dana.”
“OK,” he said.
Kayla closed her spiral notebook. “I’m gonna practice my violin. Am I going to my lesson tomorrow?”
Bree hesitated. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. She wanted the kids to be her priority, but she also wanted to catch her sister’s killer. Not a decision she’d ever thought she’d have to make.
“If you want to go,” Dana said, “one of us will take you.”
Seemingly satisfied, Kayla slid off her chair and left the room.
“I’m going to check the horses before I go to bed.” Luke stood.
“I’ll do it,” Bree said. “I’ll be up for a while anyway.”
“OK.” Luke went upstairs.
The sound of off-key notes drifted into the kitchen.
“How do you think they’re coping?” Bree asked.
Dana scooped pasta onto a plate. “I think it will get harder after the funeral. Right now, they’re still in shock.”
“I need to talk to them about Erin’s funeral. They should have a say in what happens.”
“Did you?”
“No. My mother’s funeral is a blur. Everyone in town came. Not sure whether they were supporting the family or gawking. There was no funeral for my father.”
No one publicly mourned a killer.
Dana turned to her. “You know better than anyone what these kids are going through.”
Bree nodded. “When do you think I should talk to them about the funeral arrangements?”
Dana put the plate in the microwave and pressed a button. “They’ve had a rough couple of days. I’d let them get a decent night’s sleep. Tomorrow is soon enough. Where is Erin?”
Bree had arranged for a local funeral home to collect her sister’s body. It would take the mortician a day or so to work his magic and make Erin presentable in case the kids wanted to say goodbye. Bree hadn’t been given the option, and she’d resented that.
“I searched your sister’s desk today,” Dana said. “I found a copy of her will and her attorney’s card. I left a message for the attorney.”
“Did Erin name a guardian?” But Bree knew the answer even before she’d finished the question. Their parents were gone. Their grandparents were dead. The cousin who’d raised Bree had died as well. The Taggert siblings had only had each other.
And now there were two.
Dana met her eyes with a level gaze. “You are their legal guardian, but you already knew that. I’m sure Adam will help with the finances, but he’s not capable of raising them.”
Bree’s thoughts scrambled. “My apartment is too small for three people.”
“There are larger apartments in Philadelphia,” Dana pointed out.
Bree glanced at the barn out back. “There’s nowhere to keep horses in Philadelphia.”
“I’m sure there are stables near Fairmount Park, but I imagine they’re pricey.”
The thought of dragging the kids from their home gave Bree indigestion, and she hadn’t even eaten yet. “I can’t do it. I can’t take them away from here.”
Dana didn’t say a word as Bree processed the truth that should have been clear since the moment she’d learned her sister had died.
“I’m moving to Grey’s Hollow.” Bree watched a mental image of her career careening over a cliff.
“What will you do for a job?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll see if any of the local PDs are hiring. I don’t really want to go back to patrol, but I might not have many options.”
Or any options.
The kids had to come first. They’d just lost their mother. Bree would not yank them out of their lives. There was nothing she could do to lessen their grief, but she wouldn’t add to their trauma. Which meant she was the one who would give up her life.
“Look on the bright side. You don’t have a serious relationship to end.”
“Last week, I didn’t consider my single status a plus.”
“See? Bright side.” Dana checked the pasta. “Why did you break it off with that lawyer?”
“He was obsessed with his hair. He used more products than I do.”
Dana laughed. “And the guy you dated before him—the arson investigator?”
“He had a creepy laugh.” And the sex had been meh. “We didn’t have any chemistry.”
Dana took the plate from the microwave. “You have issues with commitment.”
“You should talk, Ms. Two Ex-Husbands.”
“At least I’ve made commitments.” Dana opened a drawer and removed a fork.
Bree rolled her eyes. “My relationship status is hardly important right now. Can we get back to the problems at hand? Did you find anything that might indicate what kind of trouble my sister was in?”
“No,” Dana said. “I found normal, boring personal papers: insurance policies, tax returns, etcetera. Her records are meticulous. She filed her appliance manuals alphabetically. She had a file for online accounts and passwords, so we can access all her phone and financial records. I’ll start reviewing those tomorrow, as time permits. Then again, maybe there’s nothing to find. Two sheriff’s deputies already searched the whole house.”
“You have no idea how thorough they were, and they didn’t know my sister.” Bree paced. “I feel like Erin would have left a record somewhere. She was organized. She kept records of everything. I’ll search her room later tonight. That’s where she would have stashed anything of a personal nature that she hadn’t wanted the kids to see. Did you find Craig?”
Dana handed Bree the plate. “I found more than forty men named Craig Vance. You don’t have his social security number, do you?”
Bree took her dinner to the table and sat. “Sorry, no.”
“Then I’m slogging through the list, gathering data, knocking off anyone who isn’t the right age, and calling those who might fit his general profile.”
“What excuse are you using?” Bree asked.
“I claimed his uncle died and left him money.”
“Good one. People cooperate if they think they’ll get money.”
“So far, I’ve narrowed it down to a dozen possibilities in the tristate region. If none of those pan out, I’ll expand the search.” Dana picked up some papers and brought them to the table. “In other news, Matt’s friend came by and worked up a quote on a security system.” She set the papers in front of Bree. “His plan seems thorough.”
Bree flipped through the pages. “Windows and doors all covered, battery backup, central monitoring?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
�
��Then it’s a go.”
“I’ll call him in the morning and tell him yes,” Dana said.
Bree heard more squeaky violin notes overhead. “How am I going to raise them? I’ve never been a parent or had a good parent.”
“You love them, so you’ll figure it out. You know what not to do.” Dana glanced at the ceiling, where the painful sounds of an off-key note lingered. “Eat your dinner, then go help that child with her violin. I covered American history, but I don’t know one music note from another.”
Bree shoveled down her pasta, then climbed the steps and knocked on Kayla’s doorframe. The second she went into the room, the little girl set her violin in its case and sat on the floor next to it. “I can’t play today. My violin is too sad.”
“It’s OK.” Bree lowered herself to the floor and crossed her legs. “You don’t have to.”
“Can you play this?” Kayla pointed toward the tune in her music book, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
“Sure.” Bree picked up the violin, tucked it under her chin, and played the simple melody.
“Play something else.”
Bree lowered the violin. “Not today. It’s been a long time. I’ll have to remember some songs.” The lie felt uncomfortable on her lips. But Bree had mixed feelings about the violin. Her cousin, with no husband or children of her own, had pushed Bree hard to learn, saying it would boost her math abilities. Practice had been forced and not fun. But then, fun hadn’t been part of Cousin Tara’s vocabulary. Bree had attended top private schools, but her childhood had never been happy. The violin was caught up in those memories.
“Luke said he’s going to school tomorrow. Do I have to?”
“Do you want to?” Bree set the violin down in its case.
Kayla shook her head. “I might cry. I don’t want to cry in front of the other kids.”
“It’s OK if you cry. It’s OK if you want to stay home too.” Bree sidled closer, until their shoulders were touching. “I talked to your guidance counselor. She said when you go back to school, you can come to her office anytime during the day if you need some space.”
“I don’t want to go.” Kayla’s voice sounded thin and fragile enough to break.
“That’s fine. Everybody’s different. Don’t feel like you have to do what Luke does.”
Kayla nodded, then crawled into Bree’s lap and cried softly. Bree held her until she stopped.
“Aunt Bree?”
“Yes.”
“What will Mommy’s funeral be like?”
“I thought you and Luke might want to help plan it. It can be whatever you both want.”
The hell with convention and expectation.
Kayla nodded against her chest.
“Do you want to eat the cupcakes now?” Bree asked.
“Maybe.” Kayla crawled off her lap. “Aunt Bree?”
“Yes?”
“What’s gonna happen to me and Luke? Are we gonna have to move?”
“Would you like it better if I moved here?”
Kayla threw her arms around Bree. “Are you?”
“If that’s what you want, yes.” Bree hugged her back. I’d do anything for you.
They knocked on Luke’s door, then all three of them went downstairs. As if by mutual agreement, dessert was quiet. When it was over, Kayla tugged on Dana’s hand. “Will you watch a movie with me?”
“Of course.” Dana followed her from the room.
Luke stood. “I have to study. Midterms are coming up.”
“You’ll let me know if it’s too much?” Bree asked. “You teachers will give you more time. I talked to the counselor. She said for you not to worry.”
Luke shook his head hard. “No. I don’t want any special attention.”
“All right,” Bree said. “You can change your mind at any time.”
A tear rolled down his cheek, and he turned away. He looked as if not crying was the most exhausting thing he’d ever done. He hurried from the room, probably seeking privacy before he broke down again.
How will he cope at school?
How much could or should she protect him?
Bree had never felt so useless. She cleared the table, taking comfort in the mindless chores. When she checked on Kayla and Dana, she found them sound asleep on the couch.
Suddenly exhausted, Bree double-checked the doors and windows, almost wishing Matt—and Brody—were in the house. She climbed the steps to her sister’s room. The bed was in disarray. Bree hadn’t made it that morning, but otherwise the room was tidy. Vader lay in the center of the pillow. Erin had kept important papers in her desk, but personal items would be in her bedroom, away from the kids.
Bree went to the closet and began searching. She checked every box, bag, and pocket but found nothing. The nightstand was full of paperbacks. Bree moved to the dresser. She went through every item of clothing, then removed each drawer to check underneath and behind. Nothing.
Maybe there wasn’t anything to find.
At ten thirty, she went downstairs, dressed in a coat and boots, and trudged out to the barn to settle the horses for the night. The animals were quiet as she checked blankets and water buckets. Something scraped behind her, and a shadow fell over the aisle. Bree turned, expecting to see Dana or Luke in the doorway.
She froze when she recognized the man watching her.
“Hello, Bree,” he said.
“Craig.” Dread landed in Bree’s gut like a punch. “What are you doing here?”
“Earlier today, someone called my secretary and said I might have inherited money from an uncle. Since I don’t have any uncles, the call—and the personal nature of the questions the caller asked—felt suspicious to me.”
Two kinds of people were the most suspicious: cops and guilty people.
“I did some digging around online and saw the news about Erin’s death. Then it all made sense.” He stepped into the light. He wore jeans and a blue parka. His blond hair shone in the barn light, but his gray-blue eyes were the same color—and about as warm—as a shark’s. “Was it you who called?”
“No.”
Craig’s eyes glittered in the light. “Well, anyway. Here I am.”
Bree left the paint’s stall and locked it. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Bree stopped and waited.
A minute passed before he squirmed. “I came to see my children.”
“What children are those?”
“Luke and Kayla.” His face tightened.
“You know their names.”
“Of course I know their names,” he snapped.
“They don’t know you.” Bree kept her voice cool, which had always annoyed him.
“Don’t get nasty—” He stopped himself. “I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been a good father to the kids in the past, but I’m a new man. I’ve found God, and He has changed me. Erin’s death is a sign from Him that this is the next step in the new path He has set out for me.”
Bree could smell Craig’s bullshit over the horse manure. “Why are you really here, Craig?”
“I want to see Luke and Kayla. I want to be their father.”
“You’re a stranger to both of them.” As calm as her voice sounded, inside Bree was freaking out.
Craig’s voice shifted into his as smooth as twenty-year-old scotch grifter tone. “I intend to rectify that situation.”
Bree shook her head. “No. They’re both upset. They don’t need you to upend their lives.”
“They’re my children.” He stepped toward her. “I came here tonight to give you fair warning.”
“Warning?” Bree asked.
Craig flushed. “I intend to get custody of my children whether or not you make it easy on them.”
“A good father puts his children’s interests first, not his own,” Bree pointed out.
He leaned close. “They are my children,” he repeated. “Erin is dead. There’s no court in the state that won’t give me custody of t
hose kids.”
“Unless you’re not fit to be a parent.”
A muscle in the side of his neck twitched. He swallowed and smoothed his features. “I understand that you’re angry and grieving. You must miss your sister, and to have her taken from you in such a violent fashion must have been even more shocking. I’ll pray for you.”
Bree said nothing.
“I’m a changed man. I’m an ordained minister now.” He lifted his chin.
She suppressed a snort. Craig, a minister? “Where do you work?”
“A small church in Albany.” Barely an hour away.
“Did you get that certificate online?” she asked.
“Either you allow me to see my children or I’ll have my attorney arrange it.” His evasion of her question was her answer.
“You’d better do that.” Bree would not make it easy for him. Making him jump through legal hoops would give her time.
“Tonight’s visit was a courtesy. I want the transition to be as smooth as possible for the kids. Apparently, you don’t care about their well-being. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. If you change your mind and decide to be reasonable, here’s my card.” Pulling a business card from his pocket, he flipped it in the air. It spun and fluttered to the ground. Then he turned and left the barn.
Bree walked out into the cold and watched him trudge through the ice toward a sedan he’d parked halfway up the driveway. Craig had said he’d found God, but Bree knew the only thing he’d found was a way to separate a congregation from its collection money. She couldn’t believe he wanted his children. He’d shown no interest in them for their entire lives. What was his endgame? What did he really want?
Whatever it was, Bree knew he was up to no good. She returned to the barn, picked up the card, and shoved it in her pocket.
The anger that rose in her chest was more than an hour of yoga could alleviate. She sent Matt a text. Is there a gun range nearby?
He answered: yes.
Can we go shooting tomorrow before we see Stephanie?
Sure.
Thanks. Bree slipped her phone back into her pocket. There was nothing like a visit from Craig to make her want to shoot something.
Bree closed the barn door and paused, her gaze sweeping the fields surrounding the house. The countryside was peaceful and quiet. It was also dark. There were no streetlights, no billboards, no headlights. Anyone could be out there. She could install an alarm system in the house, but there was nothing she could do about the sheer emptiness all around her.
CROSS HER HEART Page 14