The Bad Daughter

by Joy Fielding

  “Blake Upton,” Cassidy repeated. “That’s a really cool name.”

  “Thank you.” Blake smiled. “I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

  “Are you related to Kate?” Cassidy asked.

  “Who?”

  “Kate Upton. She’s a famous model.”

  “Pretty sure we’re not related.”

  “That’s too bad. I’d really like to meet her. I want to be a model one day.”

  “I don’t think that Daddy would be too happy about that,” Melanie said.

  Robin recalled Melanie’s early dreams of being a model, how their father had dismissed those dreams with a few terse words. “Fat chance of that,” he’d said.

  “I think you’d be a great model,” Blake told Cassidy.

  “Really? That’s what Kenny says.”

  “Kenny Stapleton?” Melanie’s eyes narrowed, her head tilting to one side.

  “He was here earlier,” Robin said.

  “Really.” The word was no longer a question.

  “And Kara Richardson and Skylar Marshall, from my school,” Cassidy said. “They’re juniors. I didn’t think they even knew who I was. It was so cool they came to see me. Don’t you think?”

  “So cool,” Robin repeated with a smile. One minute Cassidy seemed mature far beyond her years, and the next she reverted to the child she was. It was hard to keep up without getting dizzy.

  “My mother could have been a famous model,” Cassidy told Blake. “She was really beautiful.”

  “Yes, she was,” Robin agreed, trying not to imagine that beautiful face torn apart by bullets.

  “But she didn’t care about that stuff. She just wanted to be a good wife and mother. That’s what she always said. That Daddy and I were plenty for her. Didn’t she, Daddy?” Cassidy leaned in toward her father. “She loved you so much. You know that, don’t you, Daddy?”

  “I’m sure he knows,” Blake said, and Cassidy fell back against his chest, sobbing quietly.

  “Maybe we should go,” Melanie said after several minutes had passed. “There’s no point just standing around waiting for something to happen. What is it they say—‘a watched pot never boils’?”

  “What does that mean?” Cassidy asked.

  “It means that it could be days, weeks…”

  Their father groaned.

  “Oh, my God,” Cassidy cried. “Is he…?”

  “He’s just making noises…”

  The groan became louder, more insistent.

  “I’ll get the nurse,” Blake said, hurrying out of the room.

  “Daddy?” Cassidy said.

  “Dad? Can you hear me?” Melanie said, approaching.

  Robin hung back, holding her breath.

  “Dad?” Melanie said again. “It’s me, Melanie.”

  A low wail emanated from deep inside their father’s throat, gurgling toward the surface of his lips. After a few seconds, the gurgle became a name.

  “Cassidy.”

  Melanie fell back, as if she’d been physically struck.

  “Daddy!” Cassidy cried, grabbing his hand. “I’m here, Daddy. I’m right here.”

  “Cassidy,” he said again.

  Cassidy tried to throw herself over the handrail of the bed, crying out as the rail dug into her side. “Daddy! Daddy!”

  “Cassidy,” he repeated, his eyes opening even as his voice grew fainter.

  “Daddy! He’s awake! He’s awake!”

  Robin inched toward the bed. “Dad?”

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her father’s eyes gravitated toward her. “Robin?”

  Melanie pushed herself in front of Robin. “Dad, it’s me—Melanie.” She leaned in close, her lips brushing the side of his cheek. “Dad?”

  “Melanie? No…” His eyes rolled back in his head and he began to shake.

  “What’s happening?” Cassidy shouted as a series of loud beeps sounded and the room filled with medical personnel.

  “Okay, everybody who doesn’t need to be here, leave now,” a male voice directed. “Mr. Davis…Mr. Davis…It’s Dr. Barber. Can you hear me?” He turned toward the others. “He’s seizing.”

  “What did you say to him?” Cassidy asked Melanie, panic lacing her voice.

  “Get everybody out now,” the doctor said.

  “I’m not leaving,” Cassidy said.

  “It’s just for a little while,” Blake said, gently taking hold of Cassidy’s shoulders. Immediately Robin was at her other side.

  Together they led the sobbing child out of the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Well, that was fun,” Melanie exclaimed as they left the hospital two hours later.

  “You have a strange definition of fun,” Blake said, walking ahead of Robin and her sister through the parking lot, using his fob to unlock the car doors and open the windows.

  Melanie shrugged. “Come on. You have to admit it was rather exciting there for a few minutes. Even though the outcome was something of a letdown.”

  “Our father didn’t die,” Robin reminded her sister.

  “Precisely my point. All that drama, then nothing. Back to where we started.”

  “I can’t believe he’s still alive,” Robin said.

  “Are you kidding?” Melanie said. “He’s not going anywhere. Not till you and I are dead. Then he can die happy.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say,” Robin said.

  “Oh, please. You hated the man. And now, just because he suddenly remembers your existence and whispers your name, you’re going to go all biblical and forgive him his transgressions?”

  “It’s trespasses, not transgressions, and I’m not forgiving anything.” Threads of anxiety began weaving through Robin’s insides. Now? I’m going to have a panic attack now? After everything that just went down?

  Robin reached Blake’s car, the disparate threads of anxiety now uniting to wind their way around her throat, digging deep into her flesh like barbed wire and cutting off her air supply. She grabbed the door handle, clinging to it despite the heat of the steel that seared the palm of her hand, certain that if she let go, she would crumple to the ground. “What did you say to him?” she managed to spit out.

  “What do you mean—what did I say to him?” Melanie asked. “When?”

  “You whispered something.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Robin pictured Melanie leaning over their father, her lips moving toward his ear.

  “I didn’t get the chance to say anything,” Melanie insisted.

  Robin pulled open the car door and climbed into the front seat as Blake got behind the wheel and started the engine. A noisy blast of air shot toward her head, scattering the threads of panic still clinging to her neck, although it did little to break through the oppressive heat surrounding her.

  Melanie climbed into the backseat, slamming the car door after her. “What—you think I threatened him? Or better yet, confessed the whole thing was my idea? Is that what you think? Damn it, can we get some of that cold air back here? I’m suffocating.”

  “It’ll take a minute,” Blake said.

  “You have a hell of a nerve, you know that?” Melanie said to Robin.

  “I just asked you what you said to him.”

  “You implied I caused his seizure.”

  “I did no such thing,” Robin said.

  “Ladies…ladies,” Blake interrupted, pulling out of the parking lot. “Can we not do this now?”

  There was a welcome moment of silence.

  “Just so we’re clear…,” Melanie started up again.

  “I think we’re pretty clear,” Blake said.

  “I think you should stay out of this,” said Melanie.

  “Please don’t talk to him that way,” Robin said.

  “What way?”

  “The way you talk to everyone.”

  “I would think you’d be pleased. I’m treating him like family.”

  “Which is exactly the problem.”

 
; “In which case, he might want to reconsider marrying into this family.”

  “Oh, shut up,” said Robin.

  “You shut up,” said Melanie.

  “Okay, then,” said Blake, clearly at a loss.

  “I had nothing to do with the shootings,” Melanie said. “And neither did Landon.”

  “Fine,” said Robin.

  “You are so full of shit.”

  “I’m full of shit?”

  “Look,” Blake said. “This bickering isn’t doing anybody any good. Cassidy is going to need all the love and support we can give her, which at the very least means we have to get along.”

  Robin nodded. The doctors had had to give Cassidy a sedative to calm her down after their father’s seizure. She was still asleep when they’d left the hospital.

  “Speaking of Cassidy,” Melanie said, “what the hell was Kenny Stapleton doing in her room this morning?”

  “I assume he was checking in to see how she’s doing.”

  “You don’t find his concern a little…troubling?”

  “Should I?”

  “You’re the therapist. You tell me.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “Then let me ask you, Blake,” Melanie said. “As a man, what do you think of a boy Kenny’s age being this concerned about a twelve-year-old girl? I know the sheriff finds it odd.”

  “Under the circumstances, it doesn’t seem that unreasonable.”

  “Well, Tara wasn’t too happy about his always hanging around,” Melanie said. “I can tell you that.”

  “I thought he came to see Landon,” Robin said.

  “So did I,” Melanie agreed. “Now I wonder.”

  “Is he a suspect?” Blake asked.

  “The sheriff doesn’t think so. It’s not like he had anything to gain. And he doesn’t match the description Cassidy gave of the men she saw in the house that night.” Melanie shrugged, as if she was already bored with the topic. “I’m hungry. Anybody feel like Chinese food?”

  “Seriously?” Blake asked.

  “Actually, yes,” Robin said, surprising herself. “Chinese food is exactly what I feel like.”

  “Turn right at the next corner,” Melanie directed Blake. “We’ll go to the Golden Dragon over at Main and Union.” She checked her watch. “It’s after two. The lunch crowd should be gone. I don’t think we’ll be bothered.”

  “Should we call Landon?” Blake asked. “See if he wants to join us?”

  “Landon hates Chinese food. Turn here.”

  “What exactly does he do all day?” Blake asked.

  “He keeps busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “He likes to draw,” Robin offered.

  “How would you know that?” Melanie asked.

  “I came across some of his pictures in a box in the mudroom.”

  “Why would you be going through the boxes in the mudroom?”

  Robin’s eyes appealed silently to Blake for help.

  “Where to now?” he obliged by asking as they crossed Highway 647A.

  “Go straight till we hit Union,” Melanie said. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding a parking space.”

  They didn’t. Blake found a spot about half a block from the restaurant and they exited the car, walking briskly down the tree-lined street.

  Melanie was right—the lunch crowd had pretty much cleared out, although a few stragglers remained. They glanced up when the front door opened. Robin saw a woman at one table immediately reach for her cell phone.

  Don’t be paranoid. Just because she’s reaching for her phone doesn’t mean it has anything to do with you.

  A smiling hostess with shiny black hair and a handful of menus approached and directed them to a booth at the back. They passed the table with the woman whispering into her phone. She turned away and covered her mouth as they walked by. Her male companion was studiously rearranging his cutlery and didn’t look up.

  Robin slid into the seat beside Blake. Everything about the restaurant was exactly as she remembered—the deep red walls, the red leather booths, the middle of the room crowded with small square tables for two, a mirrored bar opposite the front door, colorful Chinese lanterns and green plastic vines laden with white plastic flowers scattered among unframed pictures of frolicking panda bears.

  “The decor may be a cliché, but the food’s great,” Melanie said, taking a seat opposite them. “Not fancy, mind you.” She waved away the hostess’s offer of a menu. “I’ll have the wonton soup and the beef chow mein.” Melanie nodded at Robin. “She’ll have the lemon chicken with extra sauce. Right?”

  “I’m surprised you remember.”

  “Hard to forget. It’s all you ever ordered.”

  “Lemon chicken sounds good,” Blake said. “Anybody for an egg roll?”

  Both sisters raised their hands.

  Blake’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket. “Sorry about this. I’ll be right back.” He stood up and headed for the door.

  “Good-looking man,” Melanie said, watching him leave. “Kind of reminds me of Dad.”

  “He’s nothing like Dad,” said Robin, fresh stirrings of anxiety circling her heart.

  “You sure about that?”

  Robin leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, keeping them closed until she felt Blake returning to his seat.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” Robin said. “What about you? Problems?”

  “Good news for a change. Looks like the deal I’ve been working on is finally wrapping up.”

  “What kind of law do you practice?” Melanie asked.

  “Corporate and commercial.”

  “Sounds complicated. And by ‘complicated,’ I mean boring.”

  He laughed. “I guess it can be both.”

  Why can’t I do that? Robin wondered. Just shrug and laugh off Melanie’s more caustic remarks. Why do I always react?

  “Do you understand any of it?” Melanie was asking her.

  “Not really,” Robin admitted, determined to try harder, to not let her sister get to her.

  “I try not to bring my work home with me,” Blake said.

  “Probably wise. Our dad had much the same philosophy. Didn’t he, Robin?”

  “Fuck off,” Robin said. So much for shrugging and laughing it off.

  “What’d I do now?” Melanie asked. “Honestly, Blake, is this how she is with you?”

  Blake smiled. “Fuck off,” he said.

  Robin burst into tears of gratitude as the waitress appeared with their egg rolls.

  “It’s okay. She’s just really hungry,” Melanie told the startled young woman. The waitress deposited the food on the table, then backed quickly away. “Well,” Melanie said, smiling as she dipped her egg roll into the accompanying plum sauce and lifted it into the air. “Cheers, everyone.”

  A phone rang.

  “Again?” Melanie asked.

  “Not mine,” Blake said as it rang a second time.

  “Oh, what do you know? It’s mine.” Melanie laughed as she extricated her cell phone from her purse and raised it to her ear. “Hello?” A brief pause and a roll of her eyes. “Yes. What can I do for you?”

  A longer pause. Melanie pressed the button to disconnect the call.

  “Well?” Robin asked.

  Melanie took a big bite of her egg roll. “That was our illustrious sheriff. Apparently the San Francisco police have located Alec and they’re escorting him to Red Bluff as we speak. They should be here in about an hour. Looks like we’re going to have to eat fast.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Tehama County Sheriff’s Office is located on Antelope Boulevard near the intersection of Highways 99 and 36, far from the center of town. According to its website, it exists to protect the lives and property of the more than 63,000 permanent residents of Tehama County, which includes the city of Red Bluff, as well as the thous
ands of visitors who enjoy hunting, fishing, and vacationing in the area’s vast wilderness. It is staffed by the sheriff, the assistant sheriff, one captain, three lieutenants, nine sergeants, seven detectives, and twenty-nine deputy sheriffs, all of whom proudly sport the seven-pointed badge on the front of their uniforms. The department’s motto, prominently displayed throughout the uninteresting brown-brick low-rise building, is Serving Our Community with P.R.I.D.E., the initials standing for Professionalism, Respect, Integrity, Dedication, and Equality.

  “As if,” Melanie said, pushing open the heavy glass front door.

  Sheriff Prescott was waiting for them in the lobby, in front of a high reception counter, behind which a series of glassed-in offices ran down a wide corridor in both directions.

  “Where is he?” Robin said instead of “Hello.”

  “Why don’t we sit down for a minute?” The sheriff motioned toward a group of brown leather chairs. “Relax, catch your breath…”

  “Why don’t you just skip the bullshit and let us see our brother?” Melanie said.

  The deputy behind the counter looked up at the word “bullshit,” his hand moving instinctively toward the gun in his holster. The sheriff smiled and turned toward Blake. “I’m Sheriff Alan Prescott. And you are?”

  “Blake Upton.” Blake shook the sheriff’s hand, his own hand disappearing inside the larger man’s palm.

  “My fiancé,” Robin explained. “He drove up yesterday from L.A.”

  “Nice to meet you, although I wish it were under…”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Melanie said dismissively. “Better circumstances and all that. Isn’t that what people tell each other at funerals?”

  “And always a pleasure seeing you, Melanie.” Again Sheriff Prescott motioned toward the nearby chairs. “Please, everyone, have a seat. You’ll be able to see your brother shortly.”

  Robin looked nervously down the hallway, its off-white walls lined with diplomas, citations, and photographs of men and women in and out of uniform, along with the department’s ubiquitous P.R.I.D.E. motto. She saw doors, all of them closed, with labels such as Civil Division, Operation Division, and Jail Division, even though the jail itself was housed in a separate building at the corner of Oak and Madison, in the center of town. At least they haven’t taken Alec there, she was thinking as she and Blake sat down. “Is my brother under arrest?”