“Did you take care of your big emergency?” Kate asked.
He raised his eyebrows. “Things are under control, yes. I’m sorry I had to leave. I’m going to go shower before dinner.”
After he’d gone upstairs, Kate went into the kitchen to arrange the serving platters on the kitchen counter. Her cook, Claude, had prepared the Christmas Eve meal earlier that morning. The pancetta-wrapped beef tenderloin and mashed potatoes were in a low oven, warming back up, and Kate would transfer everything to the platters once they were ready to eat. She uncorked a bottle of Silver Oak cabernet sauvignon and set it on the dining room table.
The doorbell sounded, and as Kate went to see who it was, Annabelle came bounding down the stairs with Simon close behind her. She was dressed in a little white sweater dress with red trim and red tights. Kate’s eyes filled when she realized it was one of the outfits Lily had bought her a month before. Annabelle’s blond hair was pulled into two curly pigtails tied with bright red ribbon, and her big brown eyes were shining with excitement. “Is that Santa Claus?” She danced around Kate as she neared the front door.
“I don’t think so, sweetie. It’s probably Granddaddy. Santa will come when we’re all asleep. And he’ll come down the chimney.” Brian opened the door and let her father in.
She managed a smile that felt somewhat natural. “Dad.” She put her arms out to hug him as he came in. He looked weary, she thought.
“My favorite girls,” he said, kissing Kate and stooping down to hug Annabelle. “Look at you. What a perfect Christmas girl you are.”
“Granddaddy. Santa Claus is coming tonight.”
“Is he?”
“Yes. And he’s bringing toys for me.”
“Shall we go into the living room?” Kate said. She was still upset with her father but had decided to put it out of her mind until after Christmas. She just wanted to get through the next few days for Annabelle’s sake. After they sat, the phone in her pocket vibrated, and she pulled it out and swiped.
Food allergy related deaths spike during the holidays
All those home baked treats with the potential to kill
It would be a shame for you to die before Christmas
Especially with so many packages under your beautiful tree
Is there one for me?
It felt like an elephant was standing on her chest.
“Kate, are you okay?”
She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Breathe, Kate. Where’s your Valium prescription?”
“Kitchen.”
He was back moments later with a glass of water and a pill.
She downed it. “How did he know . . . ? Every window in this house is covered.”
As she held out the phone for her father to see, it rang, startling her. It was Anderson. “I know it’s Christmas Eve, but you can come over?” Kate said by way of greeting.
“I was calling to let you know I’m on my way.”
She sat still, as if in a trance. Harrison pulled Simon aside and whispered something to him. Simon’s eyes widened, and he looked over at Kate, and then at Hilda.
“Hilda, would you please give Annabelle her bath before dinner?” Simon asked.
“But you haven’t read The Night before Christmas yet,” Annabelle complained.
“I promise when you come back down, we’ll read it.”
When they’d left the room, Harrison showed the text message to Simon and Blaire. Kate felt as if she was floating above the room, seeing all of them through a misty lens. She watched grim faces having hushed conversations, unable to focus clearly.
Anderson arrived in what seemed like minutes, but when Kate looked, she saw it had been almost a half hour. She blinked, beginning to feel more in control, concentrating on his mouth as he spoke. “The text came from another VPN, so we haven’t been able to track it. We’re going to add protective custody. There’ll be a police car outside your house.” He looked at Simon. “I know you declined protection and have your own security, but now I insist.”
“Of course,” Simon said.
Kate was pacing. “I don’t understand. . . . After that last text, we’ve made sure no one can see in. How does he know about the presents under the tree? And the food allergy . . . we made cookies today. It must be someone who has access to our house,” Kate said.
Anderson shook his head. “It’s Christmas. Everyone has presents under the tree. There’s nothing specific in this text to indicate someone has access to your house. In fact, I’d say if this person did, the text would have included more details.”
“But how does he know about Kate’s nut allergy?” Simon asked.
Anderson cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t say this was someone you don’t know.”
“Everyone in our circle knows,” Kate said. “I always have to make sure before eating anything that I check the ingredients with them.”
“What about the security detail?” Blaire asked. “Any chance one of them is compromised?”
Simon gave her a withering look. “We’re not in one of your murder mysteries, Blaire. I hired them after this started. I seriously doubt one of them is a mole.”
“Okay, okay. No need to be sarcastic with each other,” Anderson said.
“What about Hilda?” Blaire asked. “Could she have anything to do with it?”
Simon shook his head. “No, she’s been with us since Annabelle was a baby. She was here when Lily was killed. There’s no way she’s involved. And Annabelle’s already upset enough with everything. I don’t want to take Hilda from her.”
“I realize this isn’t a mystery novel”—Blaire cocked her head at Simon— “but maybe you should have your security detail sweep for bugs anyway, because this person is getting their info somehow. We’re only assuming that someone looked in the window when that last text came in. Maybe there’s a camera or recording device in the house.”
Anderson looked at Simon. “I assumed they’d already done that.”
Kate sat there trying hard to follow the back-and-forth conversation. Blaire was right. There must be cameras somewhere. Her skin began to itch, as if there were things crawling all over her body. She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes moving along the molding from corner to corner, looking for the device that could be watching her every move. She was being spied on. The most intimate details of her life were known to some maniac who had killed her mother and now wanted her dead too. She lifted a hand to her throat and looked at Simon with suspicion. “You told me this security team was top-notch. Why haven’t they checked the house for things like that? There were so many people here the day of the funeral. Anyone could have planted cameras. They could be anywhere.”
“We had no reason to have them search for cameras until now,” Simon said. He looked at Anderson. “Why would you assume they would check that? If you thought it was necessary, shouldn’t you have done so yourself?”
Why weren’t they doing something about this instead of just talking about it? It was maddening. Kate stood up. “Do it now! I can’t stay here without knowing I’m not being watched.”
Anderson picked up his phone and punched in a number. “I’ll have a tech team dispatched. They’ll check the house.” He spoke into the phone, hung up, and then turned to Simon. “As you’ve pointed out, we had no reason to do so until now.”
Kate studied Anderson’s face as he spoke to Simon. He was pissed off. And there was something else in his expression—suspicion? Or just irritation? Did he know something she didn’t?
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollinsPublishers
....................................
20
When Blaire woke up early on Christmas morning, the house was still quiet. Not wanting to wake anyone, she tiptoed down the stairs and went to the kitchen. They’d all been up so late. The police had come over with all their equipment and scanned the house, even checking Kate and Simon’s router to see if someone had tagged on to their Wi-Fi
. Nothing was detected. Kate was still convinced that hidden cameras lurked somewhere, but the police had assured her that if that were the case, the camera had to be transmitting somewhere, and that was just not happening. Kate was devastated. Blaire didn’t blame her, it would have explained everything. But now it was clear to them that whoever was doing this was someone very close.
Something else was nagging at her. Right after Simon finally got home from his so-called “structural” emergency the day before, an enormous box had been delivered. The two guards approached it, but Simon rushed over to them. “It’s okay,” he’d said, looking at the return label. “I ordered this. It’s a Christmas present for Annabelle.”
They backed away as Kate moved in closer. “What is this?” she’d asked, the unease in her voice obvious to Blaire.
Simon smiled and patted the top of the box. “It’s that motorized mini Range Rover I’ve been looking at. She’s going to love it.”
“What? Have you lost your mind? How much was it?”
“It was only fifteen thousand. We can afford it.”
“Who can afford it? You? Or me? Did you use your own money, or did you use mine?”
Blaire had watched Simon stiffen and his face go red. “I thought it was all our money.”
“Do you realize we’re hemorrhaging money with all this security? How can you be so cavalier?” She had pointed her finger at him, shaking. “We’ve talked about this before. Large purchases are to be discussed ahead of time. And I won’t have Annabelle turned into a spoiled child.”
“Fine. I’ll return it,” he said, his voice low.
“See that you do!” Kate stormed from the hallway, and Blaire looked at Simon before following her. He’d given Blaire an angry scowl and turned away.
Now Blaire put some coffee on and wondered if yesterday’s argument would carry over into this Christmas morning. She walked to the French doors in the breakfast room, opening the long blinds and peering out. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, with big flakes still falling. It would be a white Christmas.
It had snowed like this that first Christmas after her mother left. Blaire had still believed in Santa Claus and had written him a letter, asking him to bring her mother back to her. Her mother could be so much fun, but she could also be moody and angry. In her darker moods, she’d yell at Blaire to leave her alone, her face contorted in anger. Something as simple as a request for an after-school snack could elicit her rage. But then she’d be sorry, apologizing and trying to make up to Blaire. When Blaire would come home from school, she could sometimes tell how her mother was going to act. If she was playing fast music and dancing around, things would be good. She’d grab Blaire by the hand, and they’d laugh and dance, and she would tell Blaire how one day Blaire would go to the movies and see her mother on the big screen. Her eyes would be all bright and her smile big as she told Blaire about her plans. She was going to go to Hollywood and get discovered. Then, if Blaire was a very good girl, her mother would send for her and they’d live in a big mansion in Beverly Hills. Blaire didn’t want to think of her mother going away, but when she said so, her mother became cold and told Blaire she was being selfish, so she’d pretend to be excited for her.
If her mother was playing sad music when she came home, Blaire knew that she had to be quiet. Otherwise her mother would yell and tell her how Blaire’s father had ruined her life. That if she hadn’t married him, she’d already be a famous movie star. Blaire never pointed out that if her mother hadn’t married him, Blaire wouldn’t have been born—but she thought it.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five thirty. It was too early to call Daniel and wish him a merry Christmas. They still hadn’t connected, and she was getting frustrated. His flight from London had got in to Chicago the night before. She should be with him and his family today, not a guest in Kate’s home. She knew it was important for her to be here, with Kate, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to picture him with his parents and his sister, enjoying each other, laughing and exchanging gifts, while she was here. She poured herself a cup of coffee and rooted around in the cabinets until she found the sugar.
“Good morning.” Hilda’s voice startled Blaire, and she turned around.
“Good morning, Hilda. Merry Christmas.”
Blaire had been surprised that Hilda wasn’t spending Christmas with her own family, but Kate told her that Hilda had asked to spend Christmas here with Annabelle.
“Merry Christmas,” Hilda answered.
Annabelle came running into the kitchen, followed by Kate and Simon.
“Merry Christmas! Did Santa come?” Annabelle asked, eyes wide and excited.
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked yet,” Blaire answered, smiling. “I made coffee,” she said to Simon and Kate.
“Bless you,” Kate said.
Kate looked terrible, Blaire realized. The circles under her eyes gave her a hollow look. Her shiny blond hair had lost its luster, and she was thinner than ever.
“Come on, Mommy. I want to see what Santa brought.”
“Okay, little one. I’ll pour a coffee and we can go see.”
Annabelle started to object, and Blaire came to the rescue. “You guys go in. I’ll bring the coffees. Is your father up yet?”
“Yes. He’s in the family room already.”
“Great. I’ll bring one in for him too.”
“Let me help you,” Hilda said, taking some mugs down from the cabinet.
Kate gave Blaire an appreciative look and took Annabelle’s hand. Blaire noticed that Kate barely glanced at Simon. The tension between them felt like an actual presence in the room. She poured the coffees and a glass of orange juice for Annabelle, grabbed a few biscotti she found in a canister in the pantry, and put everything on a tray. When she set it down on the coffee table in the family room, she saw that the Christmas tree lights were on. Kate had told her that Simon insisted they put a tree up for Annabelle’s sake. Blaire was glad to see the multicolored lights. Kate was obviously following her mother’s tradition. Lily had always said that white lights were lovely and considered de rigueur, but she didn’t care—Christmas trees were for children, and sparkling, colorful lights made children happier than plain ones.
Blaire waked closer to the tree, examining the ornaments. There were many from countries they must have visited, and some others that looked as if they might have special meaning. Blaire thought back to the Christmas of their senior year in high school, when Lily had given each of them an ornament––Blaire’s a lion to represent Columbia’s mascot, and Kate’s Handsome Dan, Yale’s bulldog mascot. Once again she was reminded of how much of Kate’s life she had missed.
“Thanks for the coffee.” Kate’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Come and sit next to me.”
Kate sat alone on the sofa, Harrison in a cushiony armchair near the tree. Simon sat cross-legged on the floor with Annabelle, surrounded by the pile of presents, and Hilda sat near them on a round ottoman. Blaire smiled as Annabelle began to tear off the paper, oohing and ahhing at each present. There were dolls, stuffed animals, board games, Legos, and a shiny red bike with training wheels. Then Simon handed Annabelle a stack of presents all wrapped in paper printed with a design of animals wearing Santa caps.
“Books, right?” Blaire whispered to Kate.
Kate nodded. “I ordered them online. I had them wrap them for me, since I ordered so late.” She rose from the sofa and went to sit next to Annabelle as she unwrapped each one. “Look, sweetheart.” Kate took a book in her hand. “Dragons Love Tacos. We’ll read it together later.”
Annabelle laughed. “He’s funny. I like tacos too.”
“Wow. Lots of books. Let’s see what else you there have,” Harrison said as Hilda picked up the discarded wrapping paper and put it in a bag.
Annabelle tore the paper off the next one. “Look, Mommy. Why does this man look so mean?” She handed the book to Kate, and Blaire leaned forward for a closer look.
Alarm
filled Kate’s face. “Um, this book is not for you. Must be a mistake, sweetie.”
Her blood ran cold when she read the title—Watch Mommy Die. It was the true story of a serial killer.
“Let me see it,” Simon said, taking the book from Kate and flipping through the pages. His face paled.
“I didn’t order that,” Kate said in a trembling voice. Blaire could see how difficult it was for her to hold it together.
“You must have,” Simon said.
“Of course I didn’t!” She grabbed the book from Simon and jumped up. The way she was holding it, Blaire thought she was going to rip it apart.
Annabelle sat silently, looking back and forth from Simon to Kate, obviously upset at all the commotion. Hilda took the child onto her lap and tried to distract her.
“Maybe you ordered it by mistake . . . looking for a grieving book, and that came up,” Simon said, his voice soft and calming.
“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t order this,” Kate said. She’d lowered her voice so that Annabelle, now happily playing with her other presents, wouldn’t hear.
No one said anything, and Kate faced them angrily.
“I’ll prove it,” she said, and ran from the room.
“She wouldn’t have ordered that. It must be a mistake, don’t you think?” Blaire said, looking first at Simon and then to Harrison.
“There must be a reasonable explanation,” Harrison said. “Did you order any books?” he asked Simon.
Before Simon could answer, Kate came back in with her laptop and sat down. “I’ll show you my order history. You’ll see.”
They exchanged looks as Kate clicked away. Finally, she looked up at them. “I . . .” She stood up, and the computer slid to the floor.
Blaire picked it up and looked at the screen. The book had been purchased the day after the others, but it was definitely an order that Kate had placed. Blaire swallowed. Kate’s state of mind was clearly deteriorating.
“It’s a mistake,” Kate said, her hand at her throat. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe,” she repeated, her body heaving as she tried to inhale.
The Last Time I Saw You Page 17