by Lin, Harper
“Kendra.”
“Kendra?” I gasped. “Why?”
“I wasn’t sure if it was her at first, but nothing else explains it.”
“Start at the beginning,” Sterling demanded.
“I remember seeing Kendra that day at the cafe. She was just leaning in to chat, said something about cooking dinner the next day. It happened so fast that I didn’t think of it.”
Kate blew her nose.
“So you didn’t see her poison the drink,” I said.
“No, but when the woman died, I got suspicious. I went to Kendra house immediately after to ask her about it.”
“Why did you immediately jump to the conclusion that your own cousin did it?” Sterling asked.
“Yeah,” I added. “I thought you were close.”
“We are,” said Kate. “Which was why I suspected her. You see, I know how much Kendra hates you Emma.”
That stung. “Why does she hate me so much?”
“She blames you for her husband’s death.”
“What?”
“She has to blame someone and you were easy. The thing is, her husband killed himself. He was depressed for a long time and he used to listen to your music all the time. He said you had a voice like velvet. Kendra hated that even when he was alive. They used to get into fights when he listened to your music in front of her. She was so jealous. He said that you were the only one who understood him. Then finally, he poisoned himself and left a note, which Kendra destroyed.”
“Wow.” I leaned back in my chair. “What did the note say?”
“I don’t know,” Kate continued. “She only told me about it, but not what was it said. She didn’t want anyone to know that he had committed suicide, which was why she didn’t even hold a funeral. Since that day, a bitter seed was planted in her heart and it grew bigger and more powerful every day. Every time I saw her she mentioned how much she hated you and wanted to kill you. I thought she was just venting. I really didn’t think she was serious. I know that deep down she blamed herself, but it felt good for her to blame you.”
“So when you talked to her, what did she say about it?” asked Sterling. “Did she admit to it at all?”
“Kendra was totally defensive about it. She played dumb and said she didn’t know what I was talking about. But I knew her husband had poisoned himself with cyanide and she still had the bottle. I just didn’t know that she would turn around and frame me. All I’d ever done was try to protect her.”
Sterling shook his head.
“You wanted to protect her so much that you were willing to put Emma’s life and the lives of other people in town in danger? You should’ve come forward with this information sooner.”
Kate sobbed.
“I know how much she’d been through. I was her maid of honor. I thought we were close. I can’t believe she’d frame me like this. Why?”
Sterling and I looked at each other.
“We’ll have to ask her, won’t we?” I said.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When they brought Kendra in, I decided to bring her a cup of hot chocolate from the station’s lunch room.
She looked up, surprised to see me. I gave her a smile that she didn’t return.
“What’s the matter?” I said. “You don’t like hot chocolate?”
Kendra stared at me with that chilling dead look of hers.
“Not your drink then.” I took a sip of it. “But you know it’s mine.”
This was the first time I drank hot chocolate since Emma Chobsky was poisoned. I had to say, it was delicious, but of course it wasn’t nearly as good as Mirabelle’s.
“How long have we known each other?” I asked.
Kendra shrugged. She looked lifeless sitting in that chair. She acted as cool as a cucumber, but I knew she was scared.
“Since we were eight,” I answered for her. “I remember the first time I met you. You had your own little clique, your band of followers even then. You almost tore my hair out for sitting at your lunch table.”
“It was an exclusive table,” she replied. “And I never gave you permission to sit there.”
“Little Kendra. Always a control freak. When did Blake die?”
“It will be seven months this Saturday,” she said. “Can I go home? I’m getting tired.”
“Tired from what? You don’t do anything all day. Blake’s insurance gave you a good chunk of money.”
“Well money doesn’t buy happiness,” she snarled.
“Why did he die?” I asked.
I could see the steam rising to her face. She turned red, seething.
“He was sick,” she finally said.
“What was he so sick of?”
She composed herself. “I’m not going to talk about this.”
“It was poison, wasn’t it? Cyanide?”
Her face was beet red, but she still wasn’t talking.
“You came home one day and your husband was found dead by his own hand in the bedroom. My first album was playing when you got there. How did that make you feel?”
Kendra shot me a hateful look. “How would you feel if the love of your life died?”
“It would be excruciating. Is that why you tried to kill me? Did you hate me that much?”
“No. I didn’t try to kill you.”
I locked eyes with her.
“Eyes don’t lie, Kendra. There’s hate in your eyes and it’s directed all me. Now isn’t it funny how someone tried to poison my drink with cyanide? The cyanide that remained from your husband’s suicide?”
“It wasn’t. You already got your perp. Kate.”
“Your own cousin? Really Kendra?”
“Kate’s a liar! She belongs in a psychiatric ward!”
“For what?” I spat out. “For trying to protect you? I agree. She is crazy for trying to cover up a murder in your family. Can you imagine how Emma Chobsky’s family feels?”
“That was an accident!” She blurted it out.
It was too late for her to take that back. The jig was up.
“Come on Kendra. You framed your own cousin. You tried to poison and kill me in public—how did you ever think you were going to get away with that?”
Kendra stood up. I was wearing my flats and she loomed over me.
“It was all your fault,” she spewed out. “The moment you stepped into town I wanted to rip you apart. It wasn’t planned. In fact, I would’ve tried to kill myself if I didn’t have Blake, Jr. to take of. I hated you so much for what you’ve done to my family. So I followed you. The cafe was so crowded that nobody saw a thing when I poured the poison, especially when people were distracted by your screaming admirer.”
“Whom you killed,” I retorted. “You killed an innocent young woman.”
“Like I said, it was an accident!”
Kendra lunged toward me and Sterling burst in and stood between us.
“Sit down, Kendra,” he said.
“My husband is going to hell because of you!” Kendra continued. “Suicide! Nobody gets into heaven with suicide. And you did it! You made him do it with your depressing songs! He kept replaying that one song, ‘Die For You’, over and over. And the other one, ‘The Killer in Me’. I thought I was going to go mad too. Are you proud of that? Are you proud of what you’ve done?”
The blood drained from my face. To be accused of being responsible for someone’s death was so vicious. Kendra could see that it affected me and that encouraged her.
“I was doing the world a favor! How many more people are going to kill themselves because of you! Shame! Shame!”
Sterling pushed her to the wall. Two policemen came in and cuffed her again.
Sterling saw how shaken up I was and he embraced me.
“I was doing God’s work!” Kendra railed. “Blake and I loved each other. We were supposed to grow old together. My son is fatherless because of you! All thanks to you and your devil’s music. Go to hell, you murderous bitch! I still have another plan to kill you. To bu
ry you! Go to hell!”
Sterling took me outside, but I could still hear her screaming in that room.
I sobbed in his arms.
“Don’t listen to her,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is partly my fault. My music triggered something in him that—”
“Shhh, Emma. Your music brings joy to so much people. Blake was mentally ill. I’m sure Kendra blames herself more. She’s just taking it out on you. I’m sure she felt as if she failed as a wife. If they were so in love, why would he kill himself? There was nothing she could do. She was helpless. She just needed someone to blame.”
I nodded. It knew that he was right, but I still couldn’t shake off the guilt.
“What you have to offer the world is amazing,” Sterling said. “You’re amazing.”
It did feel better to be in his arms. I felt protected. I always felt warm and safe in Sterling’s arms. God, how I’d missed him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kendra was locked up and awaiting trial. The paparazzi stuck around and was all over the scoop while I holed up at home and ordered Christmas presents online. It had been a crazy December. Emma Chobsky’s funeral took place last weekend. I was invited and I decided to go out of respect to pay tribute. I even sang a song. The family weeped as I did. I was pretty glum for a few days, but things cheered up when we got closer to Christmas.
I tried to focus on the positive. I had a lot to be grateful for. The killer was behind bars, I was safe, and I had my lovely family to celebrate with.
On Christmas Eve, most of the paparazzi had left. Hopefully they had family of their own to spend time with.
Mirabelle and her husband Sam was over at my parent’s house. After our traditional Christmas meal where we stuffed our faces with all sorts of comfort food and desserts, we carried the party into the living room to drink eggnog and open presents.
“This one’s for you mom.” I passed my present to Mom and watched her open the pink box.
“A new knitting set! Is this real silver?” Mom exclaimed.
“Yes.”
My mom was in a knitting circle, and I figured this would score points with her ladies. Who didn’t envy someone with the hottest knitting needles?
“You’re next,” Mirabelle gave me a red box.
I shook it first, then I sniffed it.
“It doesn’t smell like chocolate,” I said with disappointment.
“It’s better,” she said.
I opened it. “The Super Kid’s Detective Kit!”
It was a set for young sleuths in the making. It came with a spyglass, a notebook, finger print powder, and a book of codes.
“Thanks! I love it. I’ll put it to good use. Didn’t I have one of these as a child?”
“You did,” said Mirabelle. “That’s why I got you an updated version. You used to drive everyone crazy trying to dust fingerprints all over the furniture with all that white powder.”
I laughed at the memory.
“I always wanted one of those Sherlock Holmes hats,” I said. “And the cape to match.”
“Well that’s a present for next year,” said Dad. “Come on, let’s sing some songs.”
He began to play the piano rendition of Wham!’s “Last Christmas”. It made us all cringe at first, but we sang along anyway. When Dad transitioned into Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You”, the doorbell rang.
I stood up to get it. When I opened the door, boy did I get a nice surprise.
Sterling.
“Hi,” I said.
Those old butterflies came fluttering back into my belly.
“Hi.” He grinned.
“I hope you’re here to give me my present.”
“I am.”
“Come on in.”
He pulled at my arms. “I can’t stay long. I just came to see you.”
“Oh?”
I stepped out and closed the door behind me.
It was snowing lightly and the street looked so peaceful and gorgeous.
Sterling looked very handsome in his dark coat. His bright grey eyes shone under the lights.
“So where is it?” I asked. “Where’s my present?”
“It’s here.”
He pulled me in. His lips softly touched mine. One hand lightly touched the small of my back as the other rubbed below my neck. It was the kiss that used to make my head spin as a teenaged girl.
When he pulled away, my legs felt like jelly.
“Emma, I know that after Christmas you might be going back to New York, so I have to tell you.”
I looked at him expectantly. “Tell me what?”
“I know that I’ve been an idiot. It’s hard for me to express myself. I know that. It’s the reason that I got divorced, well one of them anyway. It’s also one of the reasons I lost you to begin with. I know I need to learn how to tell people how I feel, and now I’m telling you.”
I gulp and waited. The smell of him was intoxicating. My heart pounded like crazy.
“You know why I broke up with you?” he asked.
I frowned, not wanting to think about it. “Because you didn’t love me and wanted to date other girls.”
“No. That wasn’t the reason.”
“So what was it?”
“I did love you,” he said softly. “I was crazy about you. I knew that you did whatever you set your mind to, and I knew that you’d stay in this town for me. Except that I also knew that you had more to offer the world. So I had to let you go.”
“That’s ridiculous. So that was why you were so cold? So I would think that you didn’t love me?”
Sterling nodded. “And I was right to. You know? You had all that success, success that I knew was in you. You’d always been so passionate about music and you couldn’t sing at birthday parties for the rest of your life. I’m glad I didn’t have that in my conscience—the guilt that I had held you back.”
I took a breath. “Sterling, that is just so cruel. How could you? You broke my heart. All these years I thought you didn’t love me. And I wrote all those songs about it.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted the best for you and I just thought this town was too small for you. I wasn’t enough for you.”
“How could you say that?” I exclaimed.
“I thought that you would get over me and be with someone else, someone on your level. And you did.”
“But I spent years trying to get over you. You don’t know how much I cried and suffered over you!”
Now it was his turn to look surprised. “Really?”
“Yes! I wrote so many songs about our breakup.”
“I didn’t know that you felt so strongly. When you came back, I was unsure at first, but being around you again…I knew that I didn’t want to let you go again.
I laughed. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I really thought that you didn’t care. I avoided this town because of you! You really are cruel. All those years of torture. You know that you’re going to make up for all the heartache you’ve caused me, right?”
“I’ll be glad to,” he said.
Then he kissed me again. Hard. In his arms, I simply disappeared. Gone was the street, the houses, the earth. It was just me and Sterling. This could possibly be the best Christmas ever, despite all that had happened.
When we broke apart, I saw a man down the street out of the corner of my eye. Sterling and I both turned to him.
“Emma?” The voice sounded awfully familiar.
He came closer and a face emerged.
It was Nick Doyle. My ex.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Nick? What are you doing here?”
Nick’s face was contorted in shock. And hurt. His dirty blonde hair was combed neatly to one side. He wore a black designer winter coat, and he looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine spread.
“I came to see you,” he said. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
I noticed Sterling’s jaw tense.
“This
is Sterling,” I said slowly. “Sterling, this is Nick.”
Sterling put out a hand, but Nick didn’t take it.
“You’ve moved on already? With him?”