The Last Time I Saw You

by Liv Constantine

  She arched an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? My fault? How about you stop spying on other people? You’re lucky Kate doesn’t expose your creepy little habit to your partners. What do you want from me? Why are you even here?”

  “If you hadn’t butted in, everything would be fine. You need to fix this. Talk to Kate. Tell her I’m sorry. That I would never hurt her. I didn’t kill Lily. She has to know that.”

  “This isn’t about Lily. It’s about you not understanding proper social boundaries, Gordon. I can’t help you. I would recommend that you seek help elsewhere—the professional kind.”

  His eyes held more than a hint of anger. “Your sarcasm is insufferable. Just like you.”

  She regarded him with distaste. “Are we finished here?”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his fists clenched. “I never liked you, Blaire. You didn’t belong back then, and you still don’t. You’ll never be one of us.”

  “Looks like you’re the one who’s out in the cold.” She looked down as her phone buzzed. A text from Kate. Can you come over right now? Something’s happened. Blaire typed back immediately. Of course, be right there. She stood. “Gordon, I have to go.”

  She stood, as he sat there, looking shell-shocked and a little ridiculous, the whimsical bow tie with little pink crabs on it at odds with his sour expression.

  “The police know all about you, Gordon. Stay away from me. And from Kate. Don’t ever come near either of us again.” She spun away from him and marched off.

  She went back upstairs and quickly packed her bag, still rattled. Kate had invited her to stay over after Christmas Eve dinner that night. She closed down her laptop, checked to make sure everything was off, and left the suite. While she was waiting for her car to warm up, she fiddled with the radio. Despite the reason for it, there was something so comforting and familiar about having a sleepover with Kate again. It brought back her Mayfield days in a rush, when she’d escape the dorms some weekends to stay with the Michaels family.

  She had enjoyed the dorms at first. In the evenings after dinner, she and her group of friends would get their work done. Teachers and prefects roamed the halls, open doors were mandated, and they made sure the girls were all in their rooms studying. At 9:30, they had free time, and often ordered pizza, spending the next hour and half before curfew and lights out laughing and telling stories. Adding to their fun was the vodka snuck in by their favorite pizza guy. Then, in Blaire’s junior year, one of the other girls got caught sneaking out one weekend. Security was tightened, curfews were moved up, and none of it seemed fun anymore. They’d limited how many weekends she was allowed to spend off campus, until Lily changed all that.

  One Friday evening, the Michaels had taken the girls to Haussner’s, a Baltimore landmark known for its hundreds of paintings covering practically every inch of the walls, and a favorite of Blaire’s. Over dessert, Lily took a sip of her coffee and looked at Blaire.

  “Blaire, darling. Harrison and I have something we’d like to discuss with you.”

  She remembered feeling panic-stricken. In her experience, a sentence beginning that way usually heralded bad news. She racked her brain, trying to think of anything she might have said or done to upset them. A glance over at Kate revealed nothing; she was looking at Lily.

  Blaire cleared her throat. “What is it?”

  Lily smiled, and all of Blaire’s reservations evaporated. “We were wondering if you’d like to live with us instead of staying at the dorm.”

  “Um,,” Blaire said as Lily continued, “Before you answer, we just want you to know how much we’ve come to love you and, well, you’re a member of the family now.” Lily extended a hand toward Kate. “We’re so happy that Kate has you. It seems silly for you to stay all alone in the dorm when you could be with us.”

  “I would love that,” Blaire said, and turned to Kate. “Did you know?”

  Kate had smiled and nodded.

  That was a long time ago, but Blaire had always been grateful for the way Kate’s family had so fully taken her in.

  She put the car in gear and headed to Kate’s. Now Kate was falling apart again, and needed Blaire. She knew that if these threats didn’t end soon, it wouldn’t be much longer before Kate cracked for good.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollinsPublishers

  ....................................

  19

  Kate heard the doorbell and walked to the front hall, nodding to Brian, the guard on duty, as she opened the door and let in an icy blast. The weather had turned dramatically yesterday. Blaire, in a down parka and gray wool hat, stamped her feet and rubbed her gloved hands together as she entered the house.

  “So glad you’re going to stay here for a few days. Let me take your coat,” Kate said, grabbing a hanger from the hall closet. “Just leave your suitcase here. Fleur will take it up to your room.” She was eager to show Blaire the picture she’d found in Annabelle’s coloring book. She hung up the coat and turned back to Blaire. “Let’s go to the study for a minute.”

  Kate shut the door. “Look.” She pulled her phone out and swiped until she found the picture she’d snapped of the drawing and handed it to Blaire.

  “That is . . . horrible. Where was this?”

  “In Annabelle’s coloring book! Anderson took it, of course, to check it for prints. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out who could have put it there.” Kate shrugged. “But maybe it was there for a while.”

  “I’m sorry, Kate. Maybe he’ll be able to pick up something from it.”

  “Doubtful. This creep knows how to cover his tracks. We were hoping to have the behavioral profile, but Anderson says there’s a backlog in the FBI unit, and since this isn’t some active serial killer case, we have to wait in a queue. But those roses that were sent to Selby’s may turn out to be a break.”

  “How so?”

  “He used a credit card to buy them. Anderson’s already subpoenaed the records from the florist. Then I’ll be able to prove to my father and Simon that I’m not crazy. That I’m not the one who sent them.”

  “That’s great. When does he think he’ll get the info?”

  Kate shook her head. “Soon, I think.” She sighed. “It’s Christmas Eve—let’s try and put it out of our minds for a few hours. I need to put on a good face for Annabelle.”

  “Of course. Where is she?”

  “In the kitchen, making cookies with Hilda. I told her we’d come help, but I wanted to talk to you first.” It was such a relief that she didn’t have to keep secrets from Blaire.

  “Aunt Blaire!” Annabelle came bounding into the room, her eyes bright. “Are you going to make cookies with us?”

  “We’ll talk later,” Kate whispered as they followed Annabelle down the hall.

  “Mmm. Smells like a bakery in here,” Blaire said as they entered the kitchen.

  With Hilda’s help, Annabelle climbed onto a chair that had been pulled up next to the island in the middle of the kitchen, a large bowl of cookie dough in front of her. “We’re making sugar cookies, Aunt Blaire. And guess what? I get to shake the fairy sprinkles on them.”

  “Ooh, can I help?” Blaire asked.

  “Yes. But you have to wash your hands first,” Annabelle said solemnly.

  “Ha,” Blaire said, “spoken like a true doctor’s daughter.”

  Kate handed Blaire a rolling pin. “Here you go. See if you can get the dough as thin as Otterbein’s.”

  “You’re kidding, right? You remember my cookie-making skills, don’t you?”

  Blaire picked up a wad of dough, molding it into a ball before rolling it out. Watching her, Annabelle too picked up a hunk, and Hilda pinched off a piece of it, holding it in front of the little girl’s mouth. “Here, taste. It’s delicious, isn’t it?” she said, as Annabelle took it into her mouth and chewed.

  “Hilda!” Kate’s sharp voice made them all jump. “What are you doing? There are raw eggs in that.”
What was wrong with the woman? She moved closer to Annabelle and cupped her chin, looking into her eyes. “You can’t eat that, sweetie. We only eat cookies after they come out of the oven.” She gave Hilda a disapproving look.

  “We always ate the dough when I was a girl . . . ,” Hilda said.

  “I don’t care what you used to do. It’s not safe,” Kate said. “She could get salmonella. And it’s not just the eggs. Uncooked flour can transmit E. coli.” Was this woman always this careless with her daughter’s well-being, and she was only just now noticing? Was this another instance of Kate not being a good judge of the people around her?

  Hilda looked embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I didn’t know that.”

  Everyone was quiet until Blaire said brightly, “Okay, time for the magic fairy sprinkles.” She placed a baking tray of newly formed Christmas trees before Annabelle, who happily shook out the red and green sprinkles. Kate did her best to remain calm in front of Annabelle and smiled as she grabbed the tray and put it into the oven. They worked this way for the next two hours, until they’d filled four large cookie tins, Kate’s mind churning the whole time.

  The man in charge of their finances, whom she’d known since childhood, had been following her and taking pictures, her nanny was letting Annabelle eat raw eggs, and her father was still being secretive about his fight with her mother the day she was killed. Simon was, at best, disregarding her feelings and judgment about Sabrina, and at worst, cheating on her, and some psycho had been in her house despite a team of professionals they’d hired to keep her safe. Who else had she so horribly misjudged? Could she trust any of these people, in light of everything going on? The one person she’d always been sure of had been taken away from her, and now nothing else seemed certain, not even the sanctity of her own home . . .

  “Dr. English,” Fleur said, walking into the kitchen and pulling Kate from her thoughts. “The dining room table is set for tonight. Have you and Ms. Barrington eaten lunch?”

  Kate looked at her watch. One thirty. “No. I didn’t realize what time it was.”

  “I’ll take care of the kitchen,” Fleur said. “I made some soup this morning. Go have a seat in the conservatory, and I’ll bring it to you.”

  “Thank you, Fleur.” Kate was feeling tired—tired and jumpy, at this point. Food would do her some good.

  A few minutes later, they were sitting in the conservatory while Fleur set a covered tureen and two bowls on the bleached oak table in front of them. When Kate lifted the lid, steam rose, and the mouthwatering smell of Old Bay filled the air.

  “Maryland crab. I must be in heaven,” Blaire exclaimed. “I can’t remember the last time I had real Maryland crab soup.”

  “Do you remember the first time you tried steamed crabs?” Kate asked, bringing a spoonful to her mouth.

  Blaire laughed. “Yeah. At first, I thought you were crazy, eating those alien-looking crustaceans.”

  Kate smiled at her. “But in your usual adventure-seeking way, you dove right in.”

  “I smashed the thing right in the shell with the mallet. I’ll never forget the look on your dad’s face. He gave me a detailed tutorial on the proper way to open the shell.”

  “That was such a perfect night.” Kate was lost in the memory. Everything had seemed so innocent and uncomplicated back then. She thought about the twists and turns their lives had taken since those youthful days and felt a fresh wave of sorrow. “You know,” she said, “the first time I went into Barnes and Noble and saw your book on the best-seller shelf, I felt such a surge of pride . . . and then sadness that I couldn’t tell you how proud I was. I thought back to all the nights we’d lie in bed talking about the future, our dreams of writing books and practicing medicine. We made those dreams come true, but we lost each other along the way.”

  “I thought about you too. You were the one who always said one day you’d see my books in the bookstore. Being able to share it with you would have made it perfect.”

  “Mother was positively beaming that day, by the way. She bought ten copies of your book and gave them out to all her friends. She told me I should call you and congratulate you.” Kate sighed and looked at the floor. “I was too stubborn,” she said in a soft voice.

  “It’s okay, Kate. It’s time to put our regrets away. We’re together now. That’s what matters.”

  “I’ve read all of them, you know. And I am so proud of you.”

  “Thank you. That means the world to me,” Blaire said, her voice catching.

  When they had finished, it was after two, and the sky was turning gray.

  Hilda brought Annabelle in as they finished. “If you’d like, I’ll take Annabelle upstairs and see if she might go down for a short nap before dinner. Or at least have some quiet time. She might be up late tonight, waiting for Santa.”

  “I want Mommy to do it,” Annabelle said.

  Kate smiled at her. “How about if I come up and help you pick out some books?”

  “Okay,” Annabelle said quietly.

  They trudged up the stairs, Annabelle clinging to Kate’s hand. Her poor baby was feeling the effects of all this stress. Kate pushed the door open and turned on the light. “Okay, sweetie, pick some books out for Miss Hilda to read, and I’ll come check on you in a bit.” Annabelle ran to her bookshelf and started pulling out books. As Kate turned, a bottle of cough medicine sitting on Annabelle’s dresser caught her eye. “Hilda, what is this doing here?”

  Hilda looked at the bottle and then back at Kate, her eyes growing wide. “You gave her some this morning, remember?”

  Kate could barely contain her anger. “I put it back in the medicine cabinet. I would never leave it here where she could get to it.”

  Hilda shrugged. “I know you wouldn’t leave it there deliberately. Maybe you meant to do it and got distracted?”

  “And you didn’t see it before now and think maybe it should be removed from my daughter’s reach?”

  Hilda stood with her mouth agape for a moment, her eyes moving to Annabelle, who was watching them from across the room. “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t notice it there. I would have certainly put it away if I’d seen it. I’ll take care of it now.”

  Shaking her head, Kate picked up the bottle herself and took it to the bathroom, where she put it back on the top shelf. There was no way she would have forgotten to put medicine away. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She hadn’t forgotten it. Someone had put it there, either to put Annabelle in danger or to make her think she was losing it. Maybe Hilda. She could have wanted to get back at Kate for embarrassing her about the raw eggs. No, that was ridiculous, Hilda would never hurt Annabelle. Could Kate really be so distracted that she could have thought she’d put it away but forgotten?

  Maybe Simon did it. He’d been making insinuations about her state of mind a lot lately. She’d watch him more carefully. She went back downstairs, trying to push away the cloud of worry descending upon her. She found Blaire in the kitchen, making tea for them. “My father is coming at five thirty, so we’ll have dinner around six or so. Hopefully Simon will be home soon.”

  “Where is Simon?” Blaire asked. “Don’t most companies close, or at least close early, on Christmas Eve?”

  “The company is closed today. But he claims he got a frantic call this morning about some structural integrity issue on a building downtown, something to do with the base building steel frames. He had to go meet with an engineer on-site.” She would bet that the big emergency call he’d gotten that morning was from Sabrina. Probably pretending to need some comfort on her first Christmas without her father. Kate was convinced that Sabrina had a hidden agenda. She’d be more sympathetic, but she believed a good portion of Sabrina’s grieving was simply an act to get attention from Simon.

  “Claims?” Blaire prodded.

  “Come on. It’s Christmas Eve. Doesn’t matter anymore. Besides, I have more important things to think about. When we find this killer, Simon’s moving back out. The marriage is over.”<
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  “Excuse me, ma’am.” It was Joshua, one of the security team.

  “Yes?”

  “Some flowers arrived for Ms. Barrington. We opened the box just to check everything was legit. Is it okay to bring them in?”

  “Yes, please,” Kate answered.

  He came in with a box filled with two dozen red roses.

  When Kate looked at the flowers, the image of last night’s white roses—the ones she’d never ordered—came back to her. She turned away from the box.

  Blaire took the card from him. “They’re from Daniel. I told him you’d invited me to stay here tonight and tomorrow.”

  “He must be really missing you.” When was the last time Simon had sent her flowers? She couldn’t remember. But what difference did it make? She couldn’t trust him anymore. An awful sense of fear and loneliness swept over her. Blaire had become her rock again, but of course, Blaire couldn’t stay forever—she had her own life, her own husband, who sent her flowers, her own career to get back to. Doing her best to shake it off, she asked, “Want to help me finish wrapping Annabelle’s presents?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Everything’s upstairs in one of the guest rooms. I put the last of it there this morning.” She glanced at Blaire as they climbed the stairs. “Everything makes it sound like a lot. I really only bought for Annabelle. Ordered some things online. I wanted to keep it happy for her, but my heart isn’t in it.”

  “I’m sure it’s not. Completely understandable,” Blaire said as they reached the landing.

  Together they made quick work of the wrapping, carried the presents downstairs, and arranged them underneath the nine-foot Christmas tree that filled the corner of the room.

  They sat down together on one of the sofas facing the fireplace.

  “Would you like a drink? Some wine? Or an eggnog?” Kate asked.

  Blaire shook her head. “Nothing right now. I think I’ll go up and get ready for dinner. I also want to give Daniel a call.”

  “Sure thing.”

  A few minutes after Blaire left the room, Simon walked in, still in his overcoat.