I Know What You Did

by N L Hinkens

  On her way to work on Monday morning, Jo dropped the package with the hair samples and toothbrush in the mail. According to the website, she could expect the results in four to five business days. In the meantime, there was nothing she could do but try and stop obsessing about it.

  Determined to put the quandary out of her mind, she threw herself into her work in her office. Later that morning, there was a sharp rap on the door. Ed stepped inside and closed the door behind him, a strained expression on his face. “Robbie asked me to tell you that Sarah’s mother passed away last night.”

  “Oh, no!” Jo exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “She died in her sleep.” Ed twitched his nostrils, an annoying little habit he had. “The way we all want to go. A blessing in a way.”

  “But she was only sixty-two.” Jo adjusted her glasses trying to take it in. “She was perfectly healthy last time I saw her.”

  Ed gave a vague nod. “I’m sure they’ll do an autopsy, but Alzheimer’s takes you in the end—stroke, infection, or whatever. I’ve been down this road already with my father. He passed away after battling it for only three years.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jo said. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll pop round to Robbie’s after work.”

  After Ed exited her office, she sent a quick text to Liam to bring him up to speed, and then texted Robbie to express her sympathy and let him know she would stop by later.

  Shortly after three o’clock, she climbed into her car and drove to Robbie’s house. She had until five to pick up Claire from daycare, so that gave her at least an hour to spend with Robbie. He’d been good to Barb, and Jo suspected her passing would conjure up painful memories of Sarah. It crossed her mind that Robbie stood to inherit Sarah’s mother’s estate now. She had no idea what it was worth, but she presumed it was substantial—several hundred-thousand dollars. Mia, no doubt, would be glad to get her grubby little hands on it. Jo pressed her lips together. It was uncanny how everything fell into that girl’s lap.

  “Thanks for coming, Jo,” Robbie said, ushering her inside. “It’s all been a bit of a shock. She went so suddenly in the end.”

  “Where’s Mia?” Jo asked, as she sat down at the kitchen table with Robbie. He looked almost as pale and haggard as he had when Sarah died.

  “She took Olivia over to her mother’s. I think she’s irritated with me for being so upset about Barb’s passing.”

  “Was Barb sick recently?” Jo asked.

  Robbie frowned. “No, she was in good shape the last time I visited her.”

  “I assume they’ll do an autopsy.”

  “Only if I insist on it.” Robbie sighed. “To be honest with you, I don’t want to make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

  Jo grimaced. “It must be bringing back memories of Sarah. I know it can’t be easy for you.”

  Robbie rubbed his hands over his face. “Barb was my last connection to her. But I can’t expect Mia to be understanding of that.”

  Jo gave a grim nod. Understanding was not in Mia’s vocabulary. “I’m sorry. If I can help with any of the funeral arrangements, let me know.”

  “Thanks. It’ll be a very small affair.” A haunted look crossed his face. “Sarah was her only child.”

  “It meant a lot to Sarah that you were so good to Barb. And at least you got to spend one last Sunday afternoon with her.”

  Robbie exhaled a frustrated breath. “That’s the thing I feel so bad about. Mia insisted I spend it assembling some furniture she wanted me to put together. She left Olivia here with me and went to visit Barb in my place.”

  20

  In the days following, Jo’s turmoil only increased. Along with the nagging suspicion that the father of her daughter was Robbie Gleeson, she couldn’t shake the notion that Mia might have had something to do with Barb’s sudden death. As improbable as it was, the idea that the Mia everyone thought they knew was nothing like the real Mia was beginning to be bolstered by everything Jo was finding out about her.

  To allay her growing fears, she spent several hours in her office one afternoon reading back through Mia’s school records, hoping to form a clearer picture of her, but she gleaned nothing new from her research. She recalled that Mia had always had a cold-hearted streak—the glee she displayed at taunting others, her seeming indifference to Noah’s death. Lydia Tomaselli had commented on her obsession with money, and Jo had observed firsthand her expensive tastes. Lying seemed to come naturally to her. Then, there was her drinking. Even Robbie admitted it was becoming a problem. Jo had witnessed him trying to talk Mia out of another drink, but he’d shriveled when she turned on him.

  “What?” she demanded. “Are you afraid I might let something slip and embarrass you?” The self-satisfied smile on her lips and way she said it sent a chill through Jo. It sounded a lot more like a threat than a heavy-handed attempt at humor. What exactly was she threatening to let slip? Jo was becoming increasingly worried for Robbie. She could see the writing on the wall. Things were not going to end well unless Mia got help.

  On Thursday, Jo picked Claire up from daycare and drove home, stopping at the bottom of her driveway to open the mailbox. Her heart raced a little faster as she rolled down the window. Would today be the day the paternity test results arrived? Bracing herself, she pulled down the lid and peered inside. To her surprise, it was empty. She frowned in puzzlement. It wasn’t a public holiday. Surely there should be something inside, even if it was only circulars. She closed the mailbox and turned into the driveway, activating the garage door opener. As the door yawned open, she sucked in a sharp breath. Liam’s car was parked inside. Why on earth was he home so early? More importantly, had he already retrieved the mail?

  Tension built in Jo’s shoulders as she unbuckled Claire and lifted her out of her car seat. The DNA testing website had assured discretion in its packaging, but Liam might ask her what was in the envelope. She opened the door to the mudroom and called out, “Hey, honey! We’re home.” She unzipped Claire’s coat and shrugged off her own, then hung them both up and walked into the kitchen. Claire toddled straight over to her toy kitchen and began chattering to herself as she reached for a plastic cup. A watery-eyed Liam was sitting at the table with a steaming mug of tea in his hands. “Hi,” he croaked. “I came home early. I must be coming down with something.”

  “Oh no,” Jo soothed, scanning the room in vain for the mail. “Why don’t you lie down for a bit?”

  “I’ll just go to bed early tonight. I might lay down on the couch for a while and watch TV or something. I hope Claire doesn’t catch whatever I have.”

  Hearing her name, she toddled over to the table and held out her arms to be lifted up. Jo set her in her high chair and placed some cut-up chicken on the tray table, which Claire proceeded to examine piece-by-piece, systematically sucking on each one and then dropping the rejected chunks onto the floor and peering down at them with satisfaction.

  Liam reached over and lifted a pile of mail from the chair next to him, leafing half-heartedly through it. “How was your day?”

  “Oh, you know,” Jo said, staring intently at the mail as if she could somehow x-ray it. “Just the usual fires to put out, sullen teenagers, irate parents, and everything in between.”

  Liam picked up a letter from the top of the pile and tore open the envelope. “Bills, bills and more bills,” he said, tossing it down. He blew his nose and glanced at the next envelope before setting it aside. “How many credit card offers do they think we need?”

  Jo held her breath as he reached for another envelope. She was frantically calculating in her mind if today could actually be the day the results arrived. Her throat began to close over as Liam ripped open the envelope in his hand without as much as glancing at the name on it. He pulled out a folded sheet and opened it, sneezing once in the process. His eyes rapidly crisscrossed the page, a deep frown forming on his forehead. After an agonizing wait, he glanced up at Jo, an incredulous look on his face. “What’s this?”
r />   “I … don’t know,” she said, holding out her hand for the sheet. He passed it to her and she stared at it, the words blurring in front of her eyes before the letters came together.

  Probability of paternity is 99 9%.

  She re-read the words to make sure she hadn’t got it backwards. No, there was no mistaking the results. Robbie Gleeson was Claire’s father.

  “Jo?” Liam’s voice was thin, as if signaling from a distant planet. “What is this? Does this have something to do with Claire?” His tone had an edge to it now, anger, disappointment, a sense of betrayal perhaps.

  “Yes,” Jo replied resignedly. “It has everything to do with Claire. I don’t trust Mia. I haven’t trusted her for some time, and it seems I had good reason not to.”

  “What are you talking about? Whose DNA did you send in to be tested?” Liam blinked, his face contorting as he struggled to connect the dots. “It couldn’t have been Noah’s, so … who’s was it?”

  Jo swallowed hard. She was still coming to terms with the shock herself. Robbie was their baby’s father. She held the proof in her hands. Which meant he’d been lying to them all along. Robbie and Mia had been sleeping together at the same time that Sarah and Noah were carrying on their secret affair. How could Robbie do this to them? He’d seemed so gutted when he told them about Noah and Sarah being found in the car, so broken at Sarah’s funeral, so lonely in the months that followed. Had it all been an act?

  “Jo!” Liam rasped. “I asked you whose DNA it was?”

  “Robbie’s! It was Robbie’s. Claire’s his child.”

  Liam mopped his sweating forehead with a tissue and shook his head. “No, that’s not possible.”

  “Don’t you remember those two photos of Claire and Olivia as newborns that I had side-by-side on my computer?” Jo asked. “Something told me they were more than just half-sisters. Maybe it was some maternal instinct, I don’t know. But I had to be certain. It’s been haunting me.”

  Liam rubbed his brow, his face stricken. “But … that means … ”

  “Yes,” Jo said. “Robbie and Mia were together when Sarah and Noah were carrying on their affair.”

  Liam shook his head incredulously. “That’s disgusting. Not to mention illegal. Why would they do that? Revenge? Do you think they knew about Sarah and Noah all along?”

  Jo placed her elbows on the table and sank her head into her hands, contemplating the question. “Maybe that’s what Robbie was talking about when he said that grief brought him and Mia together. Maybe he wasn’t referring to Noah’s and Sarah’s deaths. Maybe he was talking about finding out that they were having an affair.”

  Liam frowned. “So why was Mia so angry with Noah that day when you had to intervene? If she and Robbie were already together, why would she care what Noah was doing?”

  “I’m beginning to think her outburst was all show,” Jo said. “It’s almost as if she wanted to make sure to throw Noah under the bus when she had a crowd of spectators.”

  Liam blew his nose and leaned back in his chair. “My head’s so fuzzy I can’t think straight.”

  “I’m confused too,” Jo replied. “But one thing’s clear—Robbie's been lying to us as well. I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am in him. I trusted him. All this time, he led us to believe he was the injured party. That’s the only reason I showed him some grace when he got together with Mia.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “It makes me wonder what else he might have lied about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe he knew Mia was pregnant the first time too.”

  “I doubt it. She didn’t want anyone to find out.” Liam was silent for a moment. “Mia might not even know that Claire is Robbie’s daughter.”

  Jo grimaced. “I bet she does. I bet she knew all along.”

  “We have to tell Robbie,” Liam said.

  “No!” Jo cried out. “We can’t say anything to him. What if he wants custody of Claire?”

  “He can’t do that. We’re her parents now!”

  “But if he didn’t know at the time that Claire was his daughter, he might have rights we’re not aware of. If he gets the right lawyer, there’s no telling what he could accomplish. And now he has the means with the inheritance from Barb’s estate. Liam, you have to promise me you won’t say anything to him.”

  Claire began to whine, and Jo lifted her down from her high chair and let her waddle back to her toy kitchen.

  Liam stared at the stack of unopened mail. “What about Mia? Are you going to confront her?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” Jo rubbed her fingertips around her eye sockets. “There are so many things about that girl that never added up.” She watched as Claire shoved all the cups and plates into the plastic dishwasher in her toy kitchen and then tried in vain to close the door. “Something else has been bothering me too. Mia was the last one to see Barb alive.”

  Liam hefted a brow. “What are you suggesting, Jo?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything, yet. I’m just saying it’s kind of odd that the one and only time Mia goes to Brookdale Meadows without Robbie, is the night Barb dies.”

  “You can’t say things like that. That’s Robbie’s wife you’re practically accusing of murder.”

  “I’m not accusing her, it’s just … another odd coincidence.” Jo glanced across at Claire, who was happily scooping everything back out of the dishwasher and onto the floor. “I think I should address the issue of Claire’s paternity with Mia.”

  “Then you’d better be prepared to face the consequences,” Liam responded. “There’s a chance she’ll go straight to Robbie and tell him everything.”

  Jo mused over her options the following day until the bell rang signaling the end of classes. Resolved to have it out with Mia no matter the fallout, she got in her car and drove straight to her house before she could change her mind. She would confront her about everything—the lying, the drinking, and of course, Claire’s paternity. She couldn’t carry on as usual now that she knew the truth. Robbie had an after-school chemistry study hour, so she’d have plenty of time to talk to Mia without any fear of him walking in on them.

  Mia answered the door, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Jo’s grim expression. Judging by the way she was balancing against the door frame, Jo guessed she'd been drinking. Frustration brewed inside her. It was only three-thirty in the afternoon, and Mia was alone in the house with a young baby. She was completely irresponsible.

  “Didn’t know we were getting together today,” Mia slurred.

  “You must have forgotten,” Jo replied firmly, brushing past her into the hallway.

  Mia followed her to the kitchen and threw herself into a chair. An empty wine bottle sat on the counter by the sink and another half bottle sat on the table next to a glass with ruby dregs in the bottom of it. “Wanna join me?” Mia asked, twisting her lips into a smirk.

  Jo shook her head in disgust. “Were you drinking while you were pregnant?”

  Mia slumped back in her chair eying Jo from beneath perfectly arched brows. “Which baby are we talking about? I expect you care a whole lot more about yours than mine.”

  “I care about both of them,” Jo said indignantly. “And I care about you too, Mia. You’re still a teenager and you’re turning into an alcoholic.”

  Mia slapped her palm down on the table causing the empty glass to wobble precariously. “Now that’s just plain rude. You’re in my house and you’re insulting me.”

  “I’m your friend. I’m trying to help you. Robbie’s trying to help you. We’re all trying to help you.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “See that’s funny because I always thought you were just trying to help yourself, Jo. You helped yourself to my baby, after all.”

  Jo stared at her aghast. “What are you talking about? You came to me and asked for my help.”

  Mia jabbed a finger in Jo’s direction. “I asked for your help to get rid of it. You talked me into keeping it because you were so
desperate for a baby, even though you knew it was wrong not to tell Noah.” Mia half rose out of her chair and stuck her face up close to Jo’s, her breath hot against her skin. “Pretty convenient he ended up dead, so you never had to.”

  21

  Before Jo could stop her, Mia reached for the bottle on the table and clumsily refilled her glass. She got to her feet and took a large swig of wine, a contemptuous smile forming on her lips.

  Fighting to restrain herself from saying something she might regret, Jo snatched up the wine bottle and stomped over to the sink, emptying the remnants into the drain. “You can’t look after a newborn in this state. It’s dangerous.” She set the empty bottle next to the other one and turned to face Mia. “I’m going to let your sickening insinuation about Noah’s death go for now as you’re obviously too drunk to realize what you’re saying.”

  Mia tinkled a laugh that scraped like glass shards over Jo’s nerves. “Come on, admit it, you must have felt at least a little relieved when you heard your baby’s daddy was dead.” She ran a fingertip slowly around the rim of her glass. "You can tell me, I don’t care. He was screwing around with your friend, Sarah, the whole time anyway.”

  “You mean while you were screwing around with Robbie?” The words erupted from Jo’s lips before she could contain them. She clapped her mouth shut and gripped the edge of the counter, berating herself inwardly. This wasn’t how she’d intended to bring up the topic.

  Mia took a sip of wine studying Jo with a conniving look, seemingly unfazed by her accusation. “You should be careful about sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong. What did you really come here for anyway?” She swirled her wine around waiting for Jo to speak, biding her time until the words that were dancing on the tip of Jo’s tongue spilled out.

  “Claire is Robbie’s daughter, isn’t she?”