The Last Time I Saw You

by Liv Constantine

  When Kate called to tell her that Lily had died, Blaire couldn’t believe it. What a cruel trick for fate to play. Just when she’d found her again, she’d lost her forever. Now she’d never get the chance to know her mother’s love. Never have the chance to make up for all the years they’d lost. She’d wanted to scream at Kate, tell her that it was all her fault. That she was responsible for keeping Lily from her. She was so consumed with hatred and anger, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hide her true feelings from Kate. But she had to make her pay. Someone finally had to make Kate pay. It was easier than she’d thought, with Kate so oblivious to Blaire’s pain. And of course, she wasn’t leaving until she found the person who’d taken Lily from her and made that person pay.

  At first she was unsure who had done it. But it soon became apparent to her that she’d been right about Simon. He was cheating on Kate, and he was only out for himself. Once Carter and Gordon had filled in the picture for her—a man with money problems and a wandering eye—she put it all together. When she discovered that Lily had known about Sabrina, had actually called Simon about Sabrina, she knew he was the one. But she couldn’t prove it. That’s when she modified her plan.

  At first, seeing Kate slowly break down as she received message after message had been gratifying. It had been so easy to make it look like the killer was after Kate as well. But after spending time with her and seeing that their bond was as strong as ever, Blaire realized she wanted Kate back. Blaire might not have a mother, but she had a sister, after all. So she’d made Kate depend on her again. Helped her to see that Simon was guilty. And this time, Kate would choose Blaire over him.

  If Simon hadn’t come on the scene, she’d have never lost Kate and Lily in the first place. Kate was still responsible for taking Blaire’s ability to have children from her, but now that Blaire was back, she’d share Annabelle with Kate. With Simon in jail, it would be like Annabelle belonged to both of them. She’d bet that Kate would even let Blaire take her to New York for some weekends. But now they were all suspicious of her.

  Heavy footsteps stopped outside the curtains, and she heard the familiar voice of Detective Anderson call in.

  “May I come in and talk to you, Ms. Barrington?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  He looked serious as he came in and pulled up a chair, notepad in hand. “Ms. Barrington, I’d like to ask you about the fire.” His eyes were cold as he cleared his throat. “Can you tell me what happened today?”

  “As you know, I’ve been staying with Kate. Harrison and Annabelle were away, and Kate needed me to go to CVS to pick up some Tylenol. When I got back, there was smoke pouring out of the chimney, and all the alarms were going off. I knew Kate was still inside, and I ran in to find her passed out, and pulled her out. Thank God I got back in time.” Blaire studied Anderson’s face, but he remained impassive.

  “I see. Did you pick up any more prepaid Visa cards while you were at CVS?” He sat back and crossed his leg, a slight smile playing on his lips.

  “Why would I need a prepaid Visa? I have excellent credit,” she said calmly.

  “There’s video footage of someone who looks an awful lot like you buying one. Coincidentally, whoever ordered the roses that were sent from Dr. English used a card from that same store.”

  She wasn’t rattled; she’d been too careful. They would never be able to identify her on that video. “Well, that is a coincidence.”

  “You have a very successful career as a writer, don’t you, Ms. Barrington?”

  Blaire eyed him, her antennae up.

  “You’ve sold millions of books.” He stopped, silent for a moment. “You and your husband,” he said at last.

  Blaire continued to stare at him.

  “You did a bit of writing on your own, isn’t that right? Before you began your collaboration with Mr. Barrington,” Anderson went on.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You don’t? Your short story. Very interesting reading, I must say.”

  She wanted to rip that mocking look off his face. She was tired of playing games. “Get to the point, Detective.”

  “The point, Ms. Barrington, is that the taunting nursery rhymes that Dr. English was sent were very similar in tone to those in that story you wrote. A few of them nearly word for word. That doesn’t look very good for you, wouldn’t you say?”

  “You really enjoy asking rhetorical questions, don’t you?”

  He gave her a dry look.

  “Anyone could have read that story and picked up the nursery rhymes to pin this on me. You know that as well as I do, don’t you?” She smiled widely at him. “How’s that for rhetorical?”

  Anderson clicked his pen a few times and started to say something else. Then, seeming to think better of it, he stood up. “That’s all for now. We’ll probably have some follow-up questions.”

  Yeah, right. This would be the last she saw of Detective Behemoth. “I’m being discharged soon, then heading back to New York.”

  He moved to the curtain surrounding the emergency room cubicle and then stopped and turned around to look at her. “By the way, Dr. English is going to be fine. Just thought you might want to know.”

  “I know she is. It was the first thing I asked the nurse.”

  Once he’d gone, Blaire lay back against the pillow. Good riddance, smart-ass. He thought he was such an ace detective.

  While she waited for her discharge papers, she took the small mirror out of her purse, applied lip gloss, and ran a hand through her hair to smooth it. She got off the bed and sat in the cubicle’s plastic chair, waiting until, finally, twenty minutes later, she’d signed her papers and was ready to go. She pushed the curtain back and began walking toward the double doors that led out of emergency. None of this had transpired as she’d planned, but as soon as she was back in New York, she’d figure a way to get Daniel back.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

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  31

  Kate didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when someone gently shook her arm.

  “Dr. English.” It was Detective Anderson.

  She blinked, her eyes still dry from the smoke. “What are you doing here?” she asked Anderson as she sat up in the bed.

  “I wanted to see how you were and update you on a few things.”

  He pulled up a chair and sat. “There was something about all those nursery rhymes that kept niggling at me. No one that we were looking at as a suspect struck me as someone who would take the time to make all those twisted poems up. I had picked up one of Ms. Barrington’s books and did some research on her, looked into her background. I found a short story that she wrote under her maiden name—Blaire Norris. It was published more than ten years ago in the Strand Magazine. I got a copy of it, and guess what? The killer sends nursery rhymes to his victim.”

  Kate felt conflicting emotions flood through her. “I guess we have proof now.”

  “I’ve spoken to her. She denies everything. And anyone could have read the story. We also tracked the prepaid credit card used to send those roses to a CVS on York Road. We’ve looked through hours of video. We have someone on tape that could be Ms. Barrington, but we can’t definitively identify her. But it was enough to convince me you were in danger, so I sent a unit over to check on you, and that’s when they saw the fire.”

  “You saved my life.” She reached out for his hand, and he squeezed it. For the first time, his eyes looked warm to her. “Thank you. Do you think Blaire killed my mother? She denied it, but . . .”

  He released her hand as he continued. “No. She was definitely in New York the night your mother died.”

  “She claims she bought another bracelet like my mother’s. But I don’t know.”

  “The bracelet we found in your husband’s study was different from your mother’s. Not the same carat weight.”

  Kate digested this news. It was
relief to know that Blaire really hadn’t been the one to take her mother’s life. But if it wasn’t Blaire, and it wasn’t Simon, then who was it? “Are we ever going to find who did this?”

  Anderson’s phone rang, and he looked at the screen. He stood. “Excuse me a minute. Have to take this.”

  Kate leaned back and closed her eyes again as he left the curtained area and went into the hallway. A few minutes later she heard him walk back in the room. She opened her eyes.

  “We’ve had a break in the case! Another witness has come forward.”

  Kate pushed herself up in bed. “Who?’

  “Randolph Sterling, Georgina Hathaway’s driver. He drove her to your mother’s house the night she was killed.”

  “What? Georgina was there?” She was suddenly alert. “What else did he say?”

  “He claims she was concerned about being implicated, so she asked him not to tell anyone she was there that night.”

  “Why would she lie about it? Unless she had something to do with it.” All of a sudden, panic seized Kate. Georgina had Annabelle.

  “Don’t worry, I’m on my way over to question her now.”

  Her voice rose in alarm. “She has Annabelle. She has my daughter! You’ve got to get over there before she can hurt her.”

  As soon as Anderson had left, Kate had jumped from the bed, almost colliding with her father as he came back into the room.

  “Kate, what’s going on? You need to be in bed.”

  “Georgina! She was there that night. We have to get Annabelle!” Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she began to cough.

  “What are you talking about? Georgina was where?”

  She pulled the hospital gown more tightly around her, and then grabbed the blanket from the bed to put over it. “She was there the night Mother died. Randolph lied for her, but he just came clean.”

  Harrison’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t understand.”

  She grabbed his hand. “Come on, we need to get over there. Now!”

  “But you haven’t been released.”

  “Dad! What if she had something to do with Mother’s death? What if she hurts Annabelle? We need to go!”

  It finally seemed to register in his brain, and they both hurried from the room, Harrison helping her as she favored her good ankle. When they got downstairs to the hospital entrance, he turned to her. “Wait here. I’ll get the car. It’s too cold for you to come outside, dressed like that.”

  She couldn’t stop rubbing her arms up and down as she waited for him to pull the car around. It was taking forever. Why had Georgina hidden the fact that she was there? Had she been a part of it? It made no sense, but Kate worried that Georgina could be crazy. Jealous of Lily. What if she decided to use Annabelle as a hostage when the police arrived at her house?

  Harrison finally pulled up, and she ran and jumped into the passenger seat of his Infiniti, shivering from the cold. “Hurry, Dad.”

  “This makes no sense. There has to be a reasonable explanation for why Georgina lied.”

  Kate tapped her foot nervously. “I can’t think of any.”

  They were quiet the rest of the way, both lost in their own thoughts. He drove just above the speed limit, reaching Georgina’s house in under fifteen minutes.

  When they stopped in front of the imposing Roland Park colonial, she saw that Anderson’s car was already there. Kate bolted out and walked as fast as she could up the steps to the front porch, wincing as a pain shot through her ankle. She pressed the doorbell over and over, until a uniformed servant opened the door, just as Harrison reached her side. “Mrs. Hathaway is waiting for you in the living room,” the young woman said, escorting them in.

  “You poor thing,” Georgina said, holding out her arms and pulling Kate into a hug. “You must be just devastated.” She turned away from Kate and gave a haughty look to Detective Anderson. “I still don’t understand why you’re here. I’ve already told you everything I know.”

  “Where is Annabelle? I need to see Annabelle,” Kate blurted out.

  “She’s fine, Kate,” Georgina said. “She’s in the playroom. My maid is with her. She’s having a lovely time playing with Selby’s old dollhouses. Don’t you worry. You just sit yourself down on that sofa and warm up by the fire.” She pointed to the sofa nearest the fireplace.

  Kate shook her head. “No, I want to see her.”

  Georgina pressed an intercom button and spoke. “Bring Annabelle downstairs.”

  A few moments later, Annabelle stood at the top landing. “Mommy!” Relief flooded Kate as Annabelle came running down the steps to her. “Mommy, Miss Lucy and I are playing dollhouse. Come see.”

  Kate gave Annabelle a tight hug before smoothing her daughter’s hair while she stared at her face for a moment. “You go back and play, sweetheart. Mommy will be up in a little while.”

  Georgina smiled at her. “See? Everything is fine. Now sit down.”

  Kate remained standing. “Why did you—”

  Anderson cut her off, giving her a warning look. “Please, Dr. English. Let me ask the questions.”

  Anderson stood by the fireplace, his elbow on the mantel. “Some clarification, really. Did you go to the Michaels house the night Lily Michaels was murdered?”

  Georgina raised her chin, her eyes steely. “Of course not. Why would you ask me that?”

  “Your driver has come forward and told us he took you there.”

  “Th-there m-must be some mistake,” she stammered. “He must have the day wrong.”

  “There’s no mistake, Mrs. Hathaway.”

  “I most certainly did not see her that night.” Georgina looked at Kate. “The detective just told me that Blaire is the one who started a fire at your home this morning. I never liked her. That girl was trouble from the very beginning, Kate. She came between you and Selby. Selby and I lamented that fact. She was never the sort who would fit in with us. She was jealous of Selby, jealous of your friendship. As I said, I never liked her.” Georgina’s voice dripped with disdain.

  “Raking through the past is pointless,” Harrison said. He stared hard at Georgina. “The question now is, were you at the house that night?”

  “I’ve told you I wasn’t.” She turned to Detective Anderson. “It’s Randolph’s word against mine. This is ridiculous.”

  Anderson watched her for a moment before speaking again. “He keeps detailed logs. What possible reason would he have for lying? Especially as it could cost him his job.”

  Kate was watching everything with mounting frustration. Anderson was right. Why would her driver lie? Georgina must have been there that night.

  Anderson gave her a stern look. “Tell us the truth—otherwise the wrong person will go to jail. Simon English has just been charged with the murder.”

  Georgina turned to Detective Anderson. “Why would you charge him? If Blaire tried to kill Kate in the fire, she’s probably the one who killed Lily. You should arrest her.”

  “Ms. Barrington may be guilty of other things, but murder is not one of them. She was in New York the night Mrs. Michaels died. We have incontrovertible proof of that. I have no reason to arrest her.”

  “She admitted to Kate that she was the one who sent all the messages,” Harrison said. “You must be able to prove that and charge her.”

  Anderson shook his head. “We have no proof of any of it. She’s made it look like Simon sent all those messages.”

  “At this point,” Detective Anderson said, “Ms. Barrington denied planting that evidence, so it’s her word against Dr. English’s. Mr. English has no alibi other than his claim that he was at the office working late, and we now believe that Ms. Mitchell is not a reliable alibi witness.”

  “But surely . . . surely, you’ll see your mistake and release him,” Georgina said.

  “Everything points to him.”

  Kate ran her hands through her hair, catching a whiff of the smoke that still clung to her.

  Anderson crossed his arms in front of him.
“You were there that night, weren’t you, Mrs. Hathaway?”

  “I told you, I wasn’t.” Her voice shook.

  At once, all eyes turned to the entrance as a tall figure strode in, clearing his throat. “I can’t let this go on without coming forward,” Randolph said. “I am not mistaken, and I am not lying.” He looked at Georgina. “I’m prepared to testify in court that I drove you to Mrs. Michaels’s house the night she was murdered.”

  Georgina stood up straighter, her eyes flashing. “How dare you. You’ve forgotten your place.”

  “No. My place is here. In this room. Telling the truth.”

  Kate watched Georgina’s face go white, her nostrils flare. “I won’t have this, Randolph. You’re dismissed. Get out at once.”

  He shook his head. “Fire me. I don’t care. You know I’m not lying. I took you there that night. You were in the house for over an hour. I waited for you.” He looked around the room at the others. “I’ll defend Mr. English no matter what. He’s a fine man who’s never done anything but good by me.”

  Anderson spoke quietly. “It will be better if you admit it now, Mrs. Hathaway. The truth will come out. I have a warrant right here.” He pulled a document from his pocket. “For your house and your car. Tell me, are we going to find any of Lily Michaels’s blood on the leather or the floor mats?”

  Georgina’s face turned a mottled red. She walked to the fireplace, put a hand on the mantel, and let her head hang. She stood there for a minute without saying a word. Finally, she heaved a sigh and turned to face them. “I was there.”

  Kate couldn’t follow what Georgina was saying. She opened her mouth to speak, but the older woman went on.

  “But it was all a terrible misunderstanding—”

  “It was you!” Kate’s hand flew to her mouth as she looked at Georgina in shock.

  “Georgina, what are you saying?” Harrison said, and Anderson put a hand up as if to silence him.

  Georgina’s face was red, and she narrowed her eyes. “Lily called me that night. She told me she needed to see me right away. She sounded so upset, so I went right over.” She paused and ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Lily told me about your argument,” she said, looking at Harrison. “Said she’d admitted to getting pregnant while you were engaged. What she hadn’t told you was that the father was my Bishop.”