But if my parents aren’t dead, if Stephen is correct and my parents are right in front of me—Collette and Alex Bird—and he’s my brother—
Then this family is mine.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
I can’t stop shaking.
“I know this is a lot to process,” Stephen says.
The weight of his eyes is heavy upon me—Collette’s too. She turns to Mr. Bird, but there’s no response.
Then she faces me slowly, her voice cracking on the word, “Patty?”
“No.” I back away.
She moves toward me. Tremulous. Uncertain. With every step, Collette looks torn between wanting to believe it’s true and terrified to find out it’s not.
I glance warily at Mr. Bird and note the shock written across his face. I’m the ghost of a daughter past and he has no clue about what to do.
Collette tries touching my hair. “But I don’t understand…how have you gotten so big?”
I slam my back hard against the wall and drop to one side. “Get away from me!” I eye my only exit from the dining room, but my feet are clumsy. I’m stumbling and forcing myself to slide against the wall until I’m moving only inches. “You’re all crazy.”
Once again, Collette looks at Mr. Bird. “Is it really her?”
Mr. Bird speaks up, but he focuses on Stephen. “I don’t understand how this could happen. How Ms. Fontaine could get away with something like this. Sneaking our child out of this house and raising her five states away? How would we not know about this?”
“The doctor helped,” Stephen says. “He must have been in love with her.”
“But she was sick!” Mr. Bird avoids looking at me as he says, “She was so ill. Removing her from this house would have caused her to get worse. She could have died…”
“She wasn’t as sick as we thought.”
Mr. Bird’s eyes fly open. “What do you mean?”
“I think Ms. Fontaine faked it all. She faked how sick Patty was—I mean, remember how much access she had to Patty in her room? All those long days and nights by her side as her nanny. I think she made us think Patty was sick, convinced that doctor to tell us she was dying. Then he helped carry her out of the house. He told us to have a closed casket. We never got to see them putting her in there because there was never a body.” It’s Mr. Bird’s turn to cover his mouth with his hands, the blood draining from his face. “We had a funeral for no one. We buried an empty casket.”
Mr. Bird steps back. He reaches for a chair, finds nothing but air, grapples for Collette’s arm and holds on to her instead.
“This can’t be real. It can’t be true.” He’s sweating. “How?”
“Ms. Fontaine was much cleverer than we realized,” Stephen says. “Incredibly clever. She loved Patty so much she wanted her for her own. She wanted to take her away from us and raise her—”
“Ms. Fontaine took her?” Pauline says. Her eyes dart around the room. “She did this?”
“Yes, she took Patty from our family.”
Pauline searches my eyes next, the puzzle pieces clicking in her head. “You’re Patty?”
I shrink again. I don’t think so, I want to tell her…God, I surely hope not…
Then comes a chortled laugh. So odd, so strange.
It stops me cold, the eerie sound. The laugh that’s coming from Pauline.
Stephen’s eyes wrench up. Mine do too.
Pauline laughs again. “You think Ms. Fontaine is the clever one?” Her face cracks into an uncomfortable smile. “Are you kidding me? That woman was an idiot.” She breaks away and moves closer to the window. “She might have taken Patty, but that’s about the only thing she was capable of.”
Stephen gives her a startled look.
Mr. Bird stares at her strangely too. “Pauline, what are you talking about?”
“You give that woman too much credit, is all I’m saying.” Pauline lets out another chuckle. “You’ve done well, Stephen,” she tells him. “Figured out so much on your own. Good job.” She raises her eyebrows. “But I hate to tell you, you’re wrong about a few things.”
Stephen’s face turns white and he looks cautiously at Pauline, the woman he thought he could trust, his right-hand woman in this household—me too. My heart hammers hard.
“Yes, Ms. Fontaine loved Patty and I’m sure she wanted to raise Patty on her own. But please don’t insult me by thinking she did this by herself.”
“Pauline,” Mr. Bird says steadily. “You’d better tell us what you know right now.”
“Ms. Fontaine didn’t do all of it!” Pauline shouts, a darkness striking her eyes. “She doesn’t get the credit!”
I jump.
“Ms. Fontaine found out what I was up to. She was suspicious and I couldn’t have that.” She takes turns looking at each of us, how we’re fixated on her words.
She takes it slow, a strange but excited smile on her face.
“I couldn’t stand how obsessed you were becoming,” she tells Collette, and Collette flinches. “Like the only thing that mattered in the world was Patty. She was the only person you wanted to spend time with.” Collette balks but Pauline keeps talking. “It was too much. She was the center of your universe. She was all you could think about, all you could talk about. All day, it was Patty this and Patty that.”
Collette shouts, “Are you insane? She was my daughter!”
“You were obsessed and it wasn’t healthy. Ms. Fontaine didn’t think it was healthy either, the way you were constantly hovering over her. You never had time for me.” Collette gasps. “You stopped wanting to be with me.”
“But she was my daughter,” Collette repeats. “How could I not want to spend time with her?”
“You weren’t with me anymore,” Pauline says, angrily.
“What did you do, Pauline?” Mr. Bird asks. “What did you do to Patty?”
But she only stares at Collette. “I missed being around you, Collette. You used to depend on me for everything. When Patty came along, I was forgotten. Ms. Fontaine became your closest helper. You didn’t need me anymore.” She raises her voice. “So I fixed it. I took care of it on my own.”
“You were in on this with Ms. Fontaine? You hurt Patty?” Stephen asks.
She smirks, the coldness of her smile reaching into the rest of the room, giving me chills.
“I needed to get rid of Patty.” She looks at me, and I instinctively recoil. “Or at least, I thought I did. I thought it worked.” She returns her gaze to Mr. and Mrs. Bird. “I poisoned her. Slowly at first, only a little bit in the beginning and then more and more.” She makes a face. “Ms. Fontaine, that busybody, started noticing things. Questioning things. Talking to the doctor. I guess”—she shrugs at me—“she thought she was saving you by taking you from this house. But she had it all wrong—she thought it was Collette who was making her sick.” She laughs. “She thought Patty’s own mother could do such a thing. Boy, how she got that one wrong. But, Collette”—she looks at her—“you weren’t well. Drinking again. Ms. Fontaine thought maybe you were depressed, or you weren’t thinking clearly and were slipping something into Patty’s food.”
She looks at us all. “But it was me. I did it.” She turns to me with an ice-cold look. “But it seems it didn’t work. I failed to get rid of you permanently. And now you’ve come back.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Mr. Bird hurtles forward like he wants to hit her. Strangle her. Throw her out the window.
But he only shakes. Collette sobs and Pauline laughs. She turns her back to us and moves toward the center of the room.
“I thought it would be my secret forever and no one would find out. That was a shame, really. Because all this time, all these years, I really wanted you to know how smart I can be too.” She gives Stephen a creepy smile. “But the day is here. I just couldn’t si
t here anymore and listen to everything you were saying about Ms. Fontaine, giving her credit, when really, you should have known she was an imbecile.”
My blood boils—she’s talking about Aunt Clara.
“But she managed to get Patty away from you,” Stephen says. “Collette wasn’t the one making her sick. She got that part wrong, but she did save Patty’s life. Ms. Fontaine’s plan worked. I hate how she did it, but she did save Patty.”
“And look how that turned out.” Pauline laughs again. “You brought her back. You did all that work, spent all that time chasing her down—and for what? To return her to this apartment so she could get hurt again?”
“But you didn’t know…how could you know it was her?” Stephen says.
“I didn’t know.” She gives me a wide-eyed look. “Until today, I had no clue. That was a big surprise. I didn’t see that one coming.” Her eyes snake up and down the length of my body and I will her to look away, my breath releasing the moment she turns back to Stephen. “But you brought her into this house and got her tangled up with Collette again, and I didn’t like that either. Once again, Collette was getting too close. Too dependent on another nanny. Just like she did with Therese, just like she did with Anna. I had to get rid of each of them.”
“What did you do to Therese?” Collette whispers.
“She had to go,” Pauline says. “Fifteen years was a long time for me to sit on the sidelines. So I pushed her.”
Collette shrieks. “You? You’re the one?”
Pauline shrugs. The gesture so cold, so simple. “I pushed her into traffic. It was easy. You didn’t see it—no one did. She died and it was done.”
“Jesus…” Stephen whimpers.
“And Anna?” Mr. Bird asks.
“Well luckily she wasn’t much of a problem. She had her own boyfriend, her own plans. She quit before you got too attached. But then, this one.” She glares at me. “She couldn’t handle you correctly.” She clicks her teeth. “She couldn’t take care of you the way I knew I could. She got in the way.”
Pauline stares at me again and a chill runs down my spine. “And then that Jonathan of hers, asking questions and poking around. I couldn’t have that, especially when he was looking into Therese’s death. He was getting carried away. Too bold. I got rid of him too.” A crack opens inside my chest. But she smirks again. “I made it look like an overdose. He thought I was there to talk to him about you, to make sure you were okay. I convinced him to go for a walk.”
“You killed Jonathan?” I ask, the pain tearing its way from my heart to my head. “How could you? He didn’t do anything. He was only trying to help…”
“He was getting in my way. It had to be done.”
My knees go weak. Blood throbs in my ears.
“And then you,” she says, her eyes remaining locked on mine. “You became a big emotional wreck after he died. Pitiful. And Collette was at your constant beck and call. She devoted all her time and attention to you.”
I think about Pauline’s messages weeks ago when she’d been telling me to arrive late. The excuses she came up with for me to leave early. She hadn’t been trying to help me. She’d wanted me out of the apartment so she could be alone with Collette.
Having me move in had been all Collette’s idea—and Pauline hated it.
“You killed Jonathan,” I say to Pauline. “You put cocaine in Jonathan’s locker.”
“No, Mr. Bird is responsible for what went in his locker,” she tells me.
I swing my eyes wildly to his.
“I did that and I’m so sorry,” Mr. Bird answers quietly, and for this, he sounds remorseful. I glare at him, but it’s way too late for an apology. “I wanted to quiet Jonathan. Keep you here longer. You staying here would keep my wife from hurting herself.” He winces terribly. “I’m so sorry.”
“You see, I’m not the only bad one,” Pauline says, smiling. “But none of it was enough to get rid of you—and, oh, did I want to get rid of you. Have more time with Collette. My true love.” She smiles at Collette before returning a calculated grin at me. “And now look at you. Patty.” She once again looks me up and down until I feel my soul lying bare. The chill returns to my bones as I contemplate everything she’s done to me—for years. “It’s like it all came back full circle,” Pauline says. “You coming back into this house all grown up. And me, here.” She puts a hand over her heart. “Trying to be rid of you again.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
I take off.
I find my feet and run as fast as I can out of the dining room.
Aunt Clara loved me, I know she did. She did what she did to protect me, to keep me safe. But the lies are a lot to handle. She’s not my real aunt. Only my nanny. My parents aren’t dead. She raised me to think I had no other family.
I spin around the corner, fighting my tears while thoughts of Aunt Clara clamor in my heart. But those thoughts are consumed by my driving fear of Pauline—the woman who’s too close right now. The woman who has admitted to poisoning me when I was a young child.
I need to get away.
The woman is obsessed, there’s no doubt. She’s upended our lives so she could be alone with Collette, wanting nothing more than to be with the lady of the house, the one person at the center of her universe.
She tried killing me—an attempt to rid Collette of her own child.
She killed Therese.
She killed Jonathan.
If she had her way, she’d get rid of me again now. Maybe permanently.
I’m racing down the hall, my heart leaping from my throat as I fight to keep down the bile that rises, my choking screams, desperately wanting to get as far away from this hell on earth as fast as I possibly can.
Stephen is calling after me, “Sarah!” Then, “Patty!” But I don’t stop. I’m tearing toward the front of the apartment and he can’t stop me.
“Please don’t go!” he shouts. He’s running too, a raspy breathlessness breaking through his voice as he approaches.
Finally, I reach the front door. But Stephen is behind me.
“You remember me, don’t you?” he says. “Tell me you remember.”
But I don’t—and I don’t want to. I only want to leave.
“You called me Stevie, remember?” I feel a lurch in my chest as I rip my eyes away from him. “That night you were sick, you called me Stevie. You have to remember, Sarah. When you were a little girl, you called me Stevie too. It was the only name you had for me. You remember, I know you do.”
I want to squeeze my hands over my ears and shut out his voice.
“Patty…” he whispers.
I fling the door open and spot the elevator. I can make it there in seconds, I just need to move.
But something makes me stop.
No, no, no!
He’s playing mind games—this whole family is. I don’t have to put up with it anymore.
But there it is again—his name. A sound.
Stevie…
It’s the sound of my own voice. Just a squeak. Me as a little girl calling out as I run toward someone. A boy who’s older than me with reddish blond hair and a playful smile, his arms opening wide and ready to give me a hug. He hugs me close and I know he loves me.
Stevie…
My childlike voice calls out to him again.
But it can’t be…
And yet, I’m reaching for my brother. I’m peering into his face and hugging him close.
I’m three years old, which makes him about twelve. He’s taking my hand and leading me toward the dollhouse—my dollhouse. We’re sitting down and playing and he’s showing me my brand-new doll, something the nanny and housekeeper have gifted me. But I’m coughing. I don’t feel so good and Stevie is handing me a cup of water. But I don’t want to drink it. I don’t like eating or drinking anything anymore—
everything tastes funny and I’m too little to understand why. The soup they feed me tastes funny too.
But it’s not my mother handing me the spoon. And it’s not my nanny, Ms. Fontaine—the woman I will eventually grow up to call Aunt Clara.
It’s Pauline, the housekeeper. She’s telling me my mommy has gone down for a nap. She’s feeding me soup and bringing the spoon to my lips, saying, Patty, one more sip. Your mother will be so pleased.
I’m too young to know what’s happening. Too young to explain how I’m feeling to Stevie because he wouldn’t understand it either. He’s only a kid like me.
And then I hear them—Pauline leaves the room but Ms. Fontaine and the doctor are staying behind. They’re whispering in the corner, smiling at me reassuringly but also trying to hide the looks of concern on their faces. They’re making plans. They’re worried about my mother, and they have no idea it’s Pauline they should be worried about instead.
They tell me I need to leave my home and I don’t understand why. They say I can’t stay here anymore.
I love Ms. Fontaine. She will take care of me, she always has, so I go with her. The doctor covers up for them and we disappear. She tells me to call her Aunt Clara and lets me pick out a new name too. She tells me it’s a fun game and I choose the name Sarah.
I freeze. I no longer want to burst out the door.
Stephen’s voice is coming back to me—he’s older now. I turn to face him. We’re standing in the foyer. The elevator is only a few feet away.
But I remember…
A woman. I’m holding a woman’s hand and she’s beautiful. A radiant blonde.
We’re sitting together and humming. A scent of strawberry bodywash envelops us both as she holds me close.
The dollhouse—that dollhouse. I instinctively dropped to my knees the first time I saw it in Patty’s playroom, and now I know why. I used to sit before that dollhouse and play with it for hours.
I’m clutching the Patty doll to my chest, but something’s different. The doll’s hair was different back then—it was a synthetic, odd color, not the soft blond hair she has now. The hair my mother cut from my head as a keepsake.
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