“You can’t even feed our daughter,” he growled at her before he kneed her in the ribs.
Mia was crying but Darby was afraid to stand until Sean stormed off. As soon as he was out of the house, Darby comforted her daughter. She had worked hard at keeping up a pretext of indifference when it came to the baby. She did it around everyone. It was only when they were alone that she was able to cuddle and coo with Mia. And that was only because she had scoured the house, and found and destroyed all of Sean’s micro-cameras. She had paid a price for destroying Sean’s cameras, but it had been worth it. She treasured every second she had alone with her daughter. She assumed the phone was still tapped, but so far he hadn’t said a word about the missing cameras. But what could he do? Call the police and ask for their help?
She fed Mia, then put her down for her morning nap. She went into her bedroom and lifted her T-shirt and saw the beginnings of a decent-sized bruise where Sean had kneed her. What if Mia had been in her arms? As much as she didn’t want this, she had to do what was safe for the baby.
All of her appointments with Dr. Pointer since the birth had been low-key, and Darby had made a special effort to seem as disinterested in the baby as possible. She’d taken Mia to her clinic and behaved the same way while the staff passed the baby around. It gave her a chance to say hello to Carl and to give Peggy Jack Kavanaugh’s business card. “If you need anything, cash or anything, call him.”
“Who’s he?”
“Don’t ask and please don’t tell anyone about him. Okay?”
Peggy agreed. Then Darby went to the bank to make another withdrawal so Sean could keep his restaurant afloat for another month. Finally she ended up at her doctor’s office.
“She’s precious,” Dr. Moser said.
Darby shrugged and offered a weak smile. What she really wanted to say was that Mia was a wonderful baby who was sleeping through the night and only cried if she needed food or a diaper change. That Darby was hoping for a miracle, and Sean would get struck by lightning or something equally lethal.
It was killing her to continually pretend that she wasn’t all that interested in her precious baby. She was having fantasies at night, too: being quite the marksman, she would lie in her bed and shoot him right between the eyes. But then her conscience would get the better of her. How would she ever be able to explain to Mia that she’d killed her father? More than that, Darby worried that she’d be no better than Sean if she acted on her fantasies.
No, this was the best option. She’d made certain that her gynecologist and her therapist thought she was suffering from postpartum depression, and hopefully their eventual testimony would mitigate any punishment she might get from the court. Still, the thought of missing so many of Mia’s firsts…
She knew Lyssa, and knew her friend would send her updates, but that wouldn’t be the same as experiencing them.
Darby’s exam was unremarkable, other than that she was cleared to resume sexual activity. Like that was going to happen. It wasn’t until she went to sit up and her paper gown slipped that the latest bruise showed. Dr. Moser’s brows arched.
“What happened?”
“I fell over the ottoman. Luckily I wasn’t holding the baby at the time.”
The doctor didn’t seem to be convinced. “Darby, are you in trouble?”
She shook her head. “Just clumsy,” she said as she fought back tears.
“Stay here,” the doctor said as she left the room. She was back in less than a minute with a business card. “This is the name and address of a shelter. It’s got 24-hour security.”
Darby sniffed. “I’m fine, really.”
“This kind of thing doesn’t usually end well.”
“I can protect myself,” she insisted. “I was ROTC in college and did two tours in the Middle East. I was at the top of my class at the range. I’m a crack shot.”
“Do you really want to kill your husband?”
She scoffed. “No. The courts don’t look kindly on women who shoot their husbands. Can we change the subject?” Mia started to get fussy.
“Are you still seeing Fran?”
Darby nodded. “She’s a good shrink. I like her.”
“Use her as a resource, Darby.”
* * *
She hadn’t seen Jack Kavanaugh since the day of Mia’s birth and now she was crossing the street to his office. He was even more handsome than she remembered. Not preppy handsome, but rugged handsome—like Matthew McConaughey if he went back to shaving, and if he had black hair and chocolate-colored eyes. Chinos and a rumpled dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows seemed to compliment his laid-back style. Darby’s stomach clenched when his eyes met and held hers. “Well?” he prompted.
“Well what?”
“Are you going to introduce me to your baby?”
Darby had all but forgotten that the handle of the baby carrier was in the crook of her arm. “Sorry, yes. This is Mia Grace.” She went to place the carrier on top of his desk but winced when her injured side complained. “My mother’s name was Grace, so I went with it.”
“I?”
“Yes.”
“Your husband didn’t care?”
“It just wasn’t important to him, so he left it up to me.” Which earned me a slap on the back of the head in my hospital room.
Darby undid the maze of clips and clasps that kept the baby safely in the carrier. She was about to get her when Jack went right in and lifted her out of the carrier. “She smiles,” he said, clearly enchanted.
“You must have children,” she said with an unexpected twang of disappointment.
“Nope. But I’ve got a big family and I’m the second oldest, so I’ve had more than my fair share of baby duty. Now I have some nieces and nephews, so I keep my skills sharp.”
She watched in awe as he made silly raspberries and funny faces to a delighted Mia. It made Darby’s heavy heart that much heavier. Sean’s only interest in Mia was her Trust, and he’d been haunting Darby for weeks to have it updated. He would on occasion comment on how pretty she was, but only in the context of Mia having his good looks. He wanted not just to include Mia by name to the Trust, but to add him as a trustee so Darby wouldn’t have to go to the bank every time he needed cash. Right; like he gave a flying fig about whether Darby would be inconvenienced.
“What’s wrong with your side?” Jack asked without taking his attention off the baby.
“Tripped and fell. Nothing major.”
Jack cradled the baby in one arm. “Do people actually buy that bullshit from you?”
“It’s not—”
“Let me guess. Your husband was cleaning his fist and it accidentally went off.”
Darby ignored the comment and reached into her tote. “Here’s the changes I want made to the Trust. All signed and notarized, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make this public. Okay? I need your word that no matter what, you’ll keep this information confidential.”
He handed the baby to Darby and she pressed little kisses against her nearly bald head while Jack went into his desk drawer. He held the paper straight while she signed.
“So what’s the plan?” Jack asked.
“I never said I had a plan,” Darby replied.
“Do I look stupid to you?”
“No. Are we done now?”
“Something tells me we aren’t.”
* * *
Darby got back home around three, relieved when she didn’t see Sean’s car in the garage. She fed Mia, then put her down for a nap and called the restaurant. Sean was there and he came on the line, so she calmly asked, “Will you be home for dinner?”
“Yes. Eight o’clock. Did the doctor clear you for sex?”
“Yes,” she answered, knowing full well it wouldn’t happen. “Any preference for dinner?”
“Snapper. I brought some home last night. It’s in the refrigerator. A salad and a baked potato.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Good-bye.”
Darby didn’t have much time. Which was both good and bad. Getting everything ready kept her mind off what she was about to do. She couldn’t go there and keep her sanity at the same time. Just the mere concept of handing over Mia had her hands shaking and her stomach in knots. No matter how hard she concentrated, her mind was whirling with potential alternatives, but none of them worked through to the desired end. If she left Sean would retaliate, and he’d retaliate by hurting the baby. Darby couldn’t risk that. She had set up the postpartum depression issue and hopefully that would be enough to get her a life sentence with the possibility of parole.
Using one of the disposable cell phones she’d picked up at a convenience store, she called Lyssa and told her where to meet her, then she was all about setting the scene. It was the last thing she wanted to do.
As much as it pained her, she took a thin needle and pricked Mia’s tiny foot. She fussed a bit, then went back to sleep. Darby pressed the pillow from the rocking chair against the droplets of blood, then left it at the end of the crib.
Then she went into the garage and pulled down the stairs to the attic. Inside was a cache of baby clothes, bottles and formula she’d been stockpiling since coming home from the hospital. The two suitcases fit in the back of her SUV. She went back into the attic and got a conversion stroller so Lyssa would have a car seat and a stroller.
The whole time, Darby was crying. No, sobbing. The idea of giving up her baby was harder than she had imagined. She kept telling herself it was important to keep the baby safe. Sean was getting nastier by the day and he came home less and less frequently. Darby didn’t give a damn if he was with Roxanne, but she knew he wouldn’t leave her until he got his hands on her money.
She’d had more than two months of planning and Jack Kavanaugh on her side. She stopped for a minute, wondering why she was thinking about her lawyer. No, not thinking about him, more like feeling fascinated by him. Like she didn’t have enough going on in her life—a life that would soon put her behind bars, possibly forever.
But there was something about her attorney that made her weak in the knees. It was totally inappropriate, save for the fact that he seemed like such a nice guy. For a nanosecond, Darby even considered calling him and asking for his advice. Then she remembered that he was an officer of the court and would have to turn her in for “killing” her daughter. Still, she felt as if he might understand her plight. Just as she felt a return in affection. No, she continued her internal discussion, she couldn’t get Jack involved. The fewer the people who knew the truth, the better.
The car was packed; all she had to do was drive to the assigned meeting place at Jonathan Dickinson State Park. The location was perfect. They exchanged everything in plain sight since it was a tourist destination. Two women handing off suitcases didn’t draw attention.
But when it came time to hand Mia over to Lyssa, Darby began to cry. She kissed her baby’s forehead, smelled her skin, rubbed the soft fuzz growing on her head. All she had to do was let go. It literally felt like she was ripping her heart out of her chest.
“You don’t have to do this,” Lyssa insisted. “I’ll help you.”
“No one can help me,” Darby said through her tears. “When I told the police that Sean had killed my parents, they laughed at me and called me hormonal. You know Sean; he’s so charming on the outside, no one believes he’s a total prick on the inside. I’d rather die in prison knowing my daughter is safe than live with the fear that he’ll hurt her.”
Darby handed over the untraceable cell phone and then the baby, and said, “Just go. Please?”
“Darby, I—”
“Go!”
Darby sobbed as she left the park, looking back in her rearview mirror to watch Lyssa putting Mia in the back of her Toyota.
“Stop,” she said aloud as she wiped her tears and fought to regain control. If her plan was going to work, she needed to be as calm as possible.
She made one stop at a small grocery store, balling up a chicken inside one of Mia’s blankets, so it looked kind of like she was carrying a newborn. Then she got in her car, drove around the block several times, then, careful to make sure the store’s video surveillance caught her on tape, she went behind the building to the canal and tossed the blanket-encased chicken, hearing it splash into the murky water. She stood there for a few minutes, then watched as the inevitable happened. Several alligators arrived, ripping and tearing at the blanket until they dislodged the chicken and began spinning to claim their prey. Darby had seen enough.
She got home with plenty of time to set up the house. She took all of Mia’s things and placed them in her room, including bottles and anything that reminded her of her beautiful daughter. Once everything was in place, she picked up the receiver and dialed 911.
“I need to report a murder,” she said.
“Ma’am?” The dispatcher questioned her as if she’d heard wrong. “Did you say a murder?”
“Yes. I just killed my baby.”
Lights and sirens started arriving within minutes. The first to arrive was a Martin County patrol car. A very muscular officer got out of the car and Darby stood at the door and watched him approach, praying she could pull this off.
“I’m Deputy Benson.” He took a small notebook out of his breast pocket. “You called in a murder?” he asked, rather casually, she thought.
“Yes.”
“And the victim is?”
“My daughter. I killed my baby.”
His head whipped up and he regarded her in a totally different light. For her part, Darby was struggling to keep her tone and expression as blank as possible.
“Can I come in and look around?” the officer said, then he reached for the radio clipped to his shoulder and called for backup and forensics.
“Yes. But she isn’t here.”
“Where is she?”
“I smothered her, then threw her in the canal off A-1-A.”
“Ma’am,” the officer began, “for my personal safety, I’m going to have to handcuff you.”
Darby turned around and grimaced when she felt the cold metal close against her skin. Leading her by the elbow, he steered her to the sofa and gave her a gentle tug so she’d sit down.
“Don’t move,” he cautioned.
She was trying her best not to move but that was difficult, given the fact that her heart was pounding. What if the police didn’t buy her story? What then? Darby grimaced. She hadn’t thought about that contingency until just now.
More sirens sounded and in a matter of minutes a half dozen deputies had swarmed on her house. Darby kept her eyes fixed on the clock. It was ten minutes before eight. Sean would be here momentarily. And with all the officers present, for once she didn’t have to be afraid of her husband’s cruel retribution. That knowledge cloaked her in a sense of calm, bordering on feeling meditative. For the first time in months she didn’t have that sinking sense of foreboding in the pit of her stomach. For the first time she knew he couldn’t hurt her or Mia. She fought back the tears that threatened when she thought of her little girl. A female deputy came and stood over her. “Are there any weapons in the house?” she asked.
Darby nodded. “There’s a nine millimeter in the master closet in a lock box and an M80 rifle in the closet of my office. First door on the right. Ammunition for both guns are in the garage on the top shelf behind the paint cans.”
The deputy stepped away and was soon replaced by a plainclothes detective. Darby’s hands were beginning to tingle from the handcuffs.
Suddenly there was a loud commotion out front. Darby recognized Sean’s voice. He was none too pleased to learn the police would not let him in the house. Darby relaxed a little. Even though her heart was in tatters, she felt safe for the first time in a very long time.
“Mrs. Grisom, I need to read you your rights.”
“No, you don’t,” she said. “I killed my daughter.”
“Where is she?” he asked.
“You threw your newborn in a canal?”
Darby blinked. “She was already gone,” Darby explained. “I smothered her with the pillow in her crib.”
“Can you tell me why?”
She hung her head. “I’m a bad mother. So I sent her to God.”
The officer looked like he wasn’t buying her story.
“I can take you to where I threw her body into the canal,” she offered.
“Mrs. Grisom, I need you to understand your rights before we go further.” He read the list she had heard on television shows her whole life. “Do you understand these rights?”
“Yes.”
“And do you wish to talk to me?”
“Yes. I am talking to you. I killed my baby.” She spoke in a monotone, not wanting to betray any of the paralyzing emotions coursing through her body.
Yet a third officer was left to stand guard over her while the detective went down the hallway. When he returned, his expression was stone cold. He was followed by an officer carrying her gun in its lock box in an evidence bag.
The detective returned. “Your husband is outside,” he said. “I need to go speak to him. Deputy Renna will take you down to the homicide office and I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay.”
Darby kept her head down as she was marched out of her house in cuffs. Her neighbors were out in force. Sean and the detective were at the side of the house, and when Darby glanced in his direction, she was stunned to see—well, not see—the anger she’d expected. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was relieved to hear his child was dead. How was that possible?
Darby was placed in the back of a squad car and driven to the local police station. The place smelled like stale coffee and cherry air freshener. There was a worn linoleum floor and gray walls genuinely in need of some paint. The deputy who had her by the elbow unlocked the door to a tiny room and then put Darby in a chair. Only then did she unlock the handcuffs. Darby rubbed her sore wrists but her freedom didn’t last long. She was told to extend her left arm, which she did, and then a cuff was reattached to that wrist and the other end was attached to an iron loop bolted to the table.
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