The Last Time I Saw You

by Liv Constantine

  Kate looked at him, annoyed. “I was looking for you. Where have you been?”

  “Nowhere. Just remembered I left my phone in the car.” He patted his pocket. “What did you need?”

  “Just get the other presents from the table in the hall and take them into the dining room,” she said, not bothering to look at him as she left.

  Kate gathered everyone into the dining room, and as soon as Simon turned off the lights, Fleur brought the cake in, candles blazing, along with Kate’s sterling cake knife. Simon hurried in with the rest of the gifts as they sang “Happy Birthday.” When Annabelle blew out the candles, the room was plunged into darkness.

  “Daddy, turn the lights on,” Annabelle’s frightened voice rang out amid soft laughter.

  The lights came on, and when Kate looked down, she saw that all of the wrapped packages were now on the table. But the cake knife . . . The knife was gone. She was about to cry out when she saw Simon holding it, poised to cut the cake, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Here, sweetheart,” he said, placing Annabelle’s hand over his. “Let’s cut the cake together. The first piece is for you, because you’re the birthday girl.”

  Kate smiled at her daughter. “After everyone’s had their cake, you get to open your presents.”

  “Goodie,” Annabelle said, as the cake was passed around. She took two bites of her own and put her fork down, looking up at Kate. “That’s enough, Mommy. I’m finished. Can I open my presents now?”

  Kate laughed. “Of course.” She slid the packages closer to Annabelle, who chose first a square box wrapped in blue paper and a huge yellow bow. She struggled to remove the bow until Kate came to her rescue, and in a few seconds, Annabelle had torn off the paper, opening the box to reveal a SparkleWorks Design & Drill. It was one of the gifts Kate had bought.

  “Ooh, just what I wanted,” Annabelle said.

  As Annabelle reached the middle of the pile, she picked up a small rectangular box wrapped in plain white paper decorated with red glitter. “Look, Mommy. It’s so pretty.”

  Annabelle unwrapped the box and lifted the top. Kate leaned over the child, tilting her head to get a better look. “Let me see that,” she said, taking the box from Annabelle and looking at it more carefully. “Who gave you this? Where’s the card?” Kate’s voice trembled.

  “What is it?” Simon rose from his chair.

  “Mommy, I want my present!” Annabelle reached out and tried to take it from Kate.

  Kate looked around the room, panicked, and then back at the box she held. Inside was a small wooden coffin, hexagonal and tapered at one end in Wild West style. She inhaled sharply and moved away from the table as she lifted it out of the box.

  “What is it?” Simon asked again.

  Kate stood in front of the sideboard, away from the others, and opened the tiny coffin. As she pushed the top open, movement caught her eye. A feeling of dread washed over her. Suddenly the room began to spin, her stomach heaving. The box was teeming with white slithering blobs. They were moving, wiggling, climbing up the sides of the coffin. Maggots! Squirming, slimy maggots. The hammering in her ears was deafening. A guttural cry came from her as she flung the box to the floor, but now the swarming mass was spread out beneath her, several of them on her right foot and moving.

  A new wave of dizziness overcame her, her stomach pitching up and down like an out-of-control roller coaster. She was going to be sick. She shook the crawling parasites from her foot and backed away, scanning the room, but the sea of faces blended together. Simon was coming toward her, taking the box from her, as she shrank away from him in fear.

  “Stay away from me.” She held her hands out in front of her. “Blaire,” she called, searching the room through eyes blurry with tears. “Get the police in here. Hurry.”

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  24

  The police had told everyone to wait in the dining room, where one of the officers kept watch while they took each guest, one by one, into the study for questioning. The tension in the room was unbearable, with everyone looking at each other, trying to assess who among them might be guilty. It reminded Blaire of that Christie book And Then There Were None.

  She was nearly the last to be summoned. A police officer escorted her in.

  “Please have a seat, Ms. Barrington,” Anderson said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

  Blaire sat and waited for him to speak.

  “Do you have any idea if that box was among the presents that Mr. English brought into the room?”

  “No, I don’t. There was a big pile of presents. I can’t be sure if it was there or not.”

  “Did you see anyone bring it into the house when they arrived?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Did you happen to see anyone leave the dining room before the gifts were opened?”

  “No. It was dark. We had just sung ‘Happy Birthday.’ ”

  “How about right before? Did you notice anyone leave the dining room before the singing began?”

  She thought a moment. “I can’t be sure. I wasn’t really looking around. I was watching Annabelle.”

  “Try to remember,” he prodded.

  She looked up and tried to picture who’d been around the table. Simon and Kate were on each side of their daughter, Carter was across from her with Selby and their three boys, and Harrison and Georgina and the parents of Annabelle’s friend were on the same side of the table. She shrugged. “Everyone was there. I mean, Fleur brought the cake in, Simon turned off the lights, and we sang. It was only dark for a few seconds after Annabelle blew out the candles.”

  “Which present was yours?” he asked.

  “Annabelle hasn’t opened it yet. It’s big. A life-size mechanical dog.” She stared at him. “She never got to it, unfortunately.”

  “I see. Have you been here all day?”

  “No. I had some errands to run, and then went back my hotel for a manicure and to pick up some things.”

  “And which hotel was that?”

  “The Four Seasons. Downtown.”

  He wrote in his notepad, stopped, and looked at her again. “Was anyone acting strangely? Nervous?”

  “No. It was a party. Everyone was happy . . . well, as happy as could be expected, given the recent circumstances. Kate was on edge, but who could blame her?”

  His brow creased. “More on edge than the past few days? Was she wary of anyone in particular?”

  Blaire hesitated only a moment. “Simon. She’s afraid of him. Thinks he’s doing things to make her doubt herself.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Moving things around where they shouldn’t be, making her think she doesn’t remember she’s done something, that sort of thing.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Do you think that’s possible? Or could she be imagining it? How do you think her state of mind is?”

  She hesitated, thinking about Kate’s hysterical laughter earlier in the evening, and the candles in the bathroom. If she told Anderson about it, he’d definitely discredit Kate’s judgement. But since Kate wasn’t a suspect, she saw no reason to tell him any of that. She needed him to take Kate’s suspicions of Simon seriously.

  “I think Simon could definitely be doing these things. I’ve never trusted him. Maybe you already know this, but that night I was at Gordon’s, I found out that Simon’s lost some big clients lately. He also told me that almost all of Kate’s money is in the foundation, and I know he signed a prenup. Did you? Kate inherited a lot of money when Lily died. According to Carter Haywood, his business partner, they need a cash infusion for their business.”

  He stared at her. “I see. Do you know any more specifics about Mr. English’s financial difficulties?”

  “I really don’t know any more than that. Only that Gordon Barton thinks Simon’s in big trouble. Can’t you look into his company’s finan
cial records?”

  “We can. It will take some time.”

  This man was exasperating. “Why? How much time?”

  “There’s a little thing called the Fourth Amendment, Ms. Barrington. We can’t just access people’s financial records without their permission or a warrant.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” she said coolly. “I write about crime.”

  “I know that you do. And I work at it in real life. I appreciate the information. We’ll look into it. Is there anything else?”

  “The only other thing is that I think you should look further into the relationship between Simon and Sabrina Mitchell. Earlier in the evening of the night I found the pictures at Gordon’s, I saw the two of them out together at a restaurant downtown. He told Kate he had a business dinner.”

  “We’re aware of that. Anything else?”

  That was interesting. “Are you having Simon followed?”

  He gave her an impatient look. “Again, Ms. Barrington, is there anything else?”

  “One more thing.”

  He raised his eyebrows and waited.

  “Carter Haywood told me that just last month, Simon received a call from Lily at the office, and that immediately afterward, he changed his mind about taking Sabrina on a business trip. It sounds to me like Lily had known something was going on with them, and told him he had to stop.”

  He looked up at her. “Thank you for this. We’ll follow up on it. Don’t hesitate to call me if you think of anything else.”

  He turned to the officer standing by the door. “Please escort Ms. Barrington out, and bring Mr. English back in.”

  She rose and went back to the dining room, where Harrison was sitting alone.

  “Where’s Kate?” she asked.

  He looked up. “She and Annabelle are sleeping in her room. I’m glad you’re staying. Kate needs you. I told her I’d stay as well, and I promised her I’d get Simon to leave.”

  How was he going to do that, Blaire wondered? The door chime sounded. “I guess Anderson’s heading out.”

  Simon came into the room, looking exhausted, his shirttail half out, his hair a mess. He slumped into a seat. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this. How the hell did that present get in here? Who could be doing this?”

  “Maybe it’s someone on your staff,” Blaire said. “I know Anderson’s looked into them, but it’s the only explanation. It’s certainly unlikely that it was Annabelle’s friend’s parents. That just leaves Selby, Carter, and Georgina. And us.”

  Harrison was quiet a moment and then looked at Simon. “Why is Kate so suspicious of you? I took your word at Christmas that nothing was going on with that woman who showed up. But now . . .”

  Simon stood, his face red. “You can’t be serious.”

  Harrison’s voice rose. “I’m completely serious. Someone has killed my wife and is now threatening my daughter. Someone very close, apparently. If she’s afraid of you, then you need to leave.”

  Simon looked pained. “You can’t honestly think it’s me? Harrison, come on!”

  “I don’t know what to think. All I know is that my daughter is scared out of her mind, and if you care so much for her, you’ll give her space. If for no other reason than her peace of mind.”

  “But she’s not safe. I can’t leave her alone here.”

  “She’s not alone,” Blaire said. “I’m here, and so is Harrison. And there are plenty of guards and the police.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes. “Fine. I’ll stay on the couch in my office, but just temporarily. Until we find the person doing all this. Then you’ll both be sorry for accusing me.”

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  25

  Kate felt better with Simon out of the house. As she got dressed the next morning, she felt slightly lighter for the first time in days. There was one more thing she had to do, though. Opening the door to Annabelle’s room, she smiled at her daughter.

  “Hi, sweetie. Granddaddy and Aunt Blaire are in the kitchen. Why don’t you go down and see them? I need to talk to Miss Hilda.”

  Hilda gave Kate a questioning look as Annabelle ran past her and down the stairs.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Kate raised her eyebrows. “Does it look like everything’s okay? Are you in on it with him?”

  Hilda took a step back. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

  Kate scoffed. “The candles, the EpiPens, the cough medicine, the sweater—you’re working with Simon. I almost believed I was losing my mind. Now I see, you’re trying to get rid of me, so you can be the only woman taking care of Annabelle.”

  Kate had done some research that morning. She’d gone back and reviewed Hilda’s employment application and found her daughter’s number, listed as the emergency contact. But it was an old number, from before she’d moved away, and Kate couldn’t find a new one. Kate had found her right away on Facebook, though she’d only been able to scroll through a handful of pictures due to the privacy settings. She’d been right. Hilda’s daughter, Beth, had a little girl Annabelle’s age. She even looked like Annabelle—long blond hair and big brown eyes. Then she’d googled Beth and found a blog about mothering. No mention of Hilda anywhere, but there was a post about getting toxic people out of your life. That was proof enough to Kate that Hilda was bad news.

  “Kate . . .”

  Kate put a hand up. “Don’t bother. I’m sick of your lies. Pack your things and get out. You’re fired.”

  Tears sprang to Hilda’s eyes, and her face paled. “Kate, you’re wrong—”

  “Wrong?” Kate’s voice rose. “I’m not wrong. You’re wrong if you think you can trick me anymore.” She turned and walked away before Hilda could say anything else. Marching down the stairs to the kitchen, she walked in and called over to Harrison and Blaire sitting at the table. “Now we’re safe.”

  Annabelle looked up. “What, Mommy?”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. Everything’s fine.”

  Harrison rose and walked over to Kate. “Kate, are you okay?”

  She gave him a triumphant smile. “I am now. I just fired Hilda. Another traitor gone.” Why did he look so upset?

  He put his hands on her arms. “Katie, Katie. Hilda’s not a traitor. Where is she?”

  Kate narrowed her eyes at him. “She’s packing. I want her gone.”

  He started to say something, and then stopped. “Okay. I’ll just go and make sure she leaves.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  Harrison walked back to the table and whispered something to Blaire.

  “Hey, no secrets!” Kate called over.

  Blaire smiled over at her. “Of course not. Why don’t you come sit down, and I’ll make you some breakfast?”

  “I can make my own breakfast. Anyway, I’m not hungry.” Kate made herself a cup of coffee and walked over to the table. “Why don’t we go do something fun today? How about the zoo?”

  Annabelle’s face lit up. “I love the zoo! Can we go see the monkeys?”

  “Um, it’s maybe a little cold for the zoo,” Blaire said. “There’s snow on the ground.”

  Kate looked out the window. “I guess you’re right. Well, how about the aquarium?”

  “Okay, if you feel like going out.”

  “I’d love to join, but I need to go to the hospital,” Harrison said. “I’ll be back early afternoon.” He turned to Blaire. “You’ll be here all day?”

  Blaire nodded.

  “Great.” Kate exhaled. Now that Simon was gone, it was as if a weight had been lifted. “I’m going to go check my work email, and then we can go.”

  She ran upstairs to her office and clicked the mouse. She breathed a sigh of relief when she scanned her emails and saw nothing out of the ordinary. She read through the new ones and was about to get up when she heard the ping of an incoming message. The subject line screamed at her: T
IME IS RUNNING OUT. She held her breath as she clicked on the email.

  You really loved Jake, didn’t you?

  Well, not enough to save him

  But don’t worry, you’ll be joining him soon

  You can sleep with ten guards outside your room

  It won’t save you

  This is the last message you’ll get

  Because it’s the last day you’re going to live

  She tried to yell, but nothing came out. She dialed Blaire’s number on her cell.

  “Kate?”

  “I’m in my office. Come here,” she panted.

  Kate took a picture of the screen while she waited, and then Blaire was next to her.

  Blaire leaned toward her and got closer to the screen. She took the mouse. “Um, Kate . . .”

  “What?” Kate was staring off into the distance, numb.

  “This is from you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Blaire pointed to the From field. “Look. It’s your personal email address. K English thirty-four at gmail dot com.”

  Kate shook her head. “I didn’t send this!”

  Blaire was quiet, staring at Kate with a look she had never seen before.

  “Why would I send this?”

  Blaire leaned down farther, to be eye level with her. “You’re under a tremendous amount of stress. You know as well as I do—”

  “No!” Kate pushed her away and stood up. “I’m not crazy,” she insisted. But she was starting to wonder.

  Just then her cell phone rang. It was Detective Anderson.

  Kate answered the phone. “Did you see it?”

  “Dr. English. We traced the IP address. That email came from your Wi-Fi.”

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