The Bad Daughter

by Joy Fielding

  “What’s the point? You’re leaving soon.”

  Robin said nothing. Where are you, Blake? Please pick up my message.

  “What about you?” Kenny asked.

  “Me?”

  “What are your deep, dark secrets?”

  Robin shrugged. “I’m pretty much an open book.”

  Kenny sneered. “What you are is full of shit.”

  “Kenny!” Cassidy gasped. “You can’t talk to Robin that way.”

  “Why can’t I? You think that just because she’s a therapist, she’s the only one who gets to ask questions?”

  “You want to ask me something?” Robin stole another glance at her watch. “Go ahead.”

  Kenny paused for a moment, as if considering his options. “Why do you want to take Cassidy back to L.A. with you? What’s in it for you?”

  “There’s nothing in it for me. I just think it’s for the best.”

  “How do you know what’s best for Cassidy? You hardly know her.”

  “I knew her mother. I think it’s what she would want.”

  “Her mother was a fucking bitch. Who cares what she wanted?”

  “Kenny!” Cassidy cried.

  “Okay,” Robin said, feeling the situation beginning to slip from her control. “I think that’s quite enough.”

  “Oh, you think it’s quite enough?”

  “Stop it, Kenny,” Cassidy said. “Why are you being so mean?”

  “I’m being mean?”

  “You shouldn’t talk about my mother like that.”

  “Like what? You hated the bitch!”

  “Did not.”

  “How many times did you tell me she was ruining your life?”

  “Maybe, when I was mad at her. I didn’t mean it!”

  “The hell you didn’t.”

  “Okay. Let’s drop this, shall we?” Robin said.

  “Shall we?” Kenny repeated.

  “You’re obviously very angry.” She had to calm things down before they went totally sideways.

  “Fuckin’ right I’m angry,” Kenny said. “Cassidy belongs here. This is her home.”

  “It was my home,” Cassidy said.

  “It still is.”

  “Melanie doesn’t want me here.”

  “So, you’ll come live with me. I’ll take care of you.”

  “That’s impossible,” Robin said.

  “Why? Because you think I’m a drug dealer?”

  “No. Well, yes, that’s certainly part of it, but…” The conversation was becoming surreal.

  “What’s the rest?”

  “You’re what, Kenny…eighteen?”

  “Nineteen,” he said, correcting her.

  “Cassidy’s twelve.” Robin glanced at her watch again, praying that Blake and the sheriff were on their way.

  “So? She’ll be thirteen in July,” Kenny said. “Six years isn’t such a big difference.”

  “It is when you’re thirteen.”

  “My dad used to talk about this country singer who married his cousin when she was thirteen.”

  Robin felt her knees wobble and she leaned back against the wall for support. “Are you saying that you want to marry Cassidy?”

  “Well, not now, of course,” Kenny said. “But in a few years, maybe, when the State says she’s legal.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Kenny.”

  “Not if you take her to L.A. with you, it isn’t.” He looked at Cassidy, the agitation returning to his voice. “It’s because of him, isn’t it? That’s why you want to go to L.A. so bad all of a sudden.”

  “You’re talking crazy again, Kenny,” Cassidy said.

  “You’re not going anywhere without me, Cassidy. We had plans.”

  “Plans?” Robin asked. What kind of plans?

  “Plans change.”

  “This is so fucked up,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “You said you loved me. You said you wanted us to be together. ‘Oh, Kenny, that feels so good. I love it when you touch me like that,’ ” he said, mimicking Cassidy’s girlish voice. “ ‘I want us to be together for always and forever.’ ”

  “He’s lying. I never said that.”

  “You told me there was only one way that was ever gonna happen.”

  Cassidy pushed herself slowly out of her chair, her eyes wide with horror. “What are you saying? That you shot Daddy Greg? That you murdered Mommy?”

  Kenny’s eyes darted around the room, like splinters of plastic in a child’s kaleidoscope. He shook his head, as if desperately trying to get the pieces to fall into place, to form a cohesive pattern. “Wait,” he said. “What’s happening? What are you doing?”

  “How could you?”

  “You throwing me under the bus?” He looked from Cassidy to Robin, then back to Cassidy. “No. No way. If I go down, you go down.”

  “You’re crazy,” Cassidy said. “He’s crazy,” she said to Robin.

  “I’m crazy?” Kenny shouted, jumping up and slamming his beer bottle against the table with such force that it broke in his hand. Beer and blood dripped from his open palm. “I’m not the one who shot her mother’s face off!”

  “Oh, God!” Robin cried.

  “He’s lying,” Cassidy cried. “You’re a damn liar, Kenny Stapleton!”

  “The whole thing was her idea.”

  “No!”

  “You want to know how it went down?” Kenny asked Robin. “I’ll tell you exactly how it went down.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Robin. He’s drunk and high on coke.”

  “Her mother didn’t like me always hanging around,” Kenny said, ignoring her. “She was getting suspicious that something was going on. And she was right. We were going at it like rabbits. Have been for months.”

  “He’s making all this up,” Cassidy said, crying now. “I swear—”

  “Her mother told Cassidy she couldn’t see me anymore, and Cassidy got real pissed off, said her mother had no right to tell her anything, that she was ruining her life. Said her mother was cheating on her dad and planning to run off with some old boyfriend, which would’ve meant no more big house, no more money for nice clothes, no more nothin’. She said her mother was gonna spoil everything and that we had to stop her.”

  “I told him that Mommy was cheating on Daddy and I was afraid he’d find out and divorce her and that would ruin everything, yes, that’s true,” Cassidy explained, choking back tears. “I was upset and I needed someone to talk to. I thought Kenny was my friend. I thought I could confide in him.”

  “Cassidy heard her mother talking on the phone that night, making plans to meet up with your brother,” Kenny continued, ignoring Cassidy. “She and her mom had this big fight and she called me, said we couldn’t wait any longer, that they were coming to install the security cameras that week, so we had to take care of things right away, and to bring my gun. I went to the house. Cassidy let me in. Her mother saw me and right away started yelling. Her dad ordered me to leave. I pulled out my gun, and told them both to shut up. Cassidy already had the gun your dad kept in his bedroom. Shit, you should have seen her. The damn thing was bigger than she is. She held it on her mom while I made your dad open the safe. Cassidy knew your dad kept a lot of cash in there and we were gonna need it to start our life together once things calmed down. Her mom was crying and begging her to think about what she was doing, telling her that she loved her and stuff. And that’s when Cassidy shot her.” He laughed. “Shot her right in the fucking face. And then just kept on shooting her. I didn’t have a whole lot of choice but to finish off Mr. Davis. Then we messed up the place to make it look like a home invasion.”

  Cassidy was sobbing. “That’s not what happened. Please, Robin. Can I tell you what really happened?”

  Robin nodded, unable to find her voice.

  “It’s true I was angry with Mommy. I knew about her and Alec. I recognized him the minute I saw him in San Francisco, even though he said his name was Tom Richards. I knew they didn’t just run into each
other by accident. I figured out that they were having an affair, and that she was planning to leave Daddy. And make me go with her. Make me leave the only father I’ve ever known. And I love him, Robin. I love him so much. He’s been so good to me.

  “I heard Mommy talking to Alec on the phone that night, making plans to meet him, and I was so upset, we had a big fight, and I called Kenny to come over. I just wanted somebody to talk to. But then when Mommy saw him, she went ballistic. Daddy told Kenny to get out, and that’s when Kenny pulled out his gun. I didn’t even know he had a gun. Guns scare me. I begged him to put it away, to leave before anything really bad happened. But Kenny wouldn’t listen. He made Daddy open the safe and Mommy started screaming, and…and…that’s when he shot her. And then he shot Daddy. And I tried to get away, to call nine-one-one, but he came after me. I screamed at him to stop, but he just smiled and pulled the trigger. I almost died, Robin. Did I plan that, too?”

  Robin’s head was spinning, her whole body tingling. “But why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “I couldn’t. At first I was in shock. I didn’t remember anything. It was like what you see on TV. What do they call it? Am— am—”

  “Amnesia?”

  “Yes. That’s it. From the trauma and everything. And then when things did start coming back to me, Kenny was always there. And he said if I told anyone what had happened, he’d tell the police it was all my idea. Just like he’s doing now. So I didn’t say anything, and I pleaded with you to take me back to L.A. Please, Robin. That’s the honest-to-God truth. You have to believe me. I would never shoot Mommy. I would never hurt Daddy Greg. Please, please believe me.”

  Robin closed her eyes. What Kenny was suggesting was impossible. Cassidy was twelve years old. She was a child, for God’s sake.

  “Well, you can believe whatever the hell you want,” Kenny said, brandishing the piece of broken glass in his hand, “but I’m getting out of here and Cassidy’s coming with me.”

  “No,” Cassidy said. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “The hell you aren’t.” He grabbed for her hand.

  Instinctively Robin threw herself in front of Cassidy. The child screamed as the jagged piece of brown glass in Kenny’s hand swooped through the air. A sudden sharp pain sliced across Robin’s abdomen, a thin line of blood slowly seeping through the white cotton of her blouse and expanding like a sponge.

  There was a loud banging on the front door. Kenny disappeared through the mudroom seconds before Blake and Sheriff Prescott came rushing into the kitchen.

  “Robin, my God!”

  Robin collapsed in Blake’s arms. The last thing she heard before she gave in to unconsciousness was Cassidy screaming her name.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  In her dream, Robin was lying in a narrow bed in an all-white room when a doctor with red hair and an upturned nose covered in bright orange freckles approached, her stethoscope pointed toward Robin’s chest, like a gun. “How are we doing?”

  What’s wrong with this picture?

  “You’re looking pretty good for a woman who almost got herself killed,” the doctor continued, morphing into Brenda, the woman she’d met in the waiting room at the Tehama jail. “Good thing that boy’s aim wasn’t better. Turns out it’s not as easy to hit your target as it looks on TV.”

  What am I missing?

  In the next second, she was in the lobby of the Tremont Hotel, crouching next to Tara behind a large potted plant.

  “Here comes your father,” Tara said. “That shit’s been cheating on me with his office manager.”

  Robin rose to confront him. “Cassidy,” he said as Robin approached.

  “No, Dad. It’s me, Robin.”

  “Cassidy,” her father insisted as Kenny Stapleton burst onto the scene, a broken beer bottle in his hand, blood dripping from his closed fist.

  Robin groaned.

  “I think she’s waking up,” Blake said from somewhere above her head.

  “Robin?” Cassidy said. “Robin, can you hear us?”

  Robin opened her eyes to find her sister, the sheriff, Blake, and Cassidy gathered around her bed, staring down at her expectantly.

  “You’re in Emergency,” Blake told her before she could say anything.

  “What happened?”

  “You’ve been stabbed. But you’re going to be fine. Luckily, the wound was more horizontal than vertical. No vital organs were pierced. The doctors stitched you up. Twenty-six stitches. They’ve given you some pretty powerful painkillers, so you might be a bit woozy for a while.”

  “You’ve been drifting in and out for the past hour,” Melanie said.

  The afternoon’s events flashed through Robin’s consciousness like a strobe light, creating a series of frozen, hyper-bright images. She gasped as Kenny broke free from one such image and lunged toward her.

  “What is it?” Blake asked.

  “Kenny Stapleton,” Robin said. “Did he get away?”

  “We have every available officer out looking for him,” Sheriff Prescott said. “And we’ll have deputies guarding the house until he’s caught.”

  “This is all my fault,” Cassidy cried. “I should have told you about Kenny.”

  “Yes, you should have,” Melanie said. “Landon and Alec are in jail because of you. Donny Warren was almost in there with them. You caused a lot of people a lot of grief.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just so scared.”

  “The important thing is that we know everything now,” the sheriff said.

  “Everything?” Robin asked, Kenny’s more outlandish accusations echoing in her ears.

  “I told the sheriff all the horrible things Kenny said,” Cassidy explained.

  “Just when you think you’ve heard it all.” Prescott shook his head. “I’ll stop by the house later to take formal statements from both of you.”

  “What about my brother and my nephew?” Robin asked.

  “Once we have your statements, we can work on getting them released.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Thank Cassidy,” Prescott said.

  Except it had been Cassidy’s statements that had implicated Alec and Landon in the first place, Robin thought. Her words were what had linked the two men together. She’d deliberately steered suspicion away from Kenny, describing the shooters as big and muscular. Did she do so out of fear, as she claimed, or was there something more sinister at play?

  What am I missing?

  Robin pushed the troubling questions aside. Cassidy was twelve years old, for God’s sake. A child.

  A child who could discuss her mother’s murder in one breath and her revulsion for red licorice in the next. A child who’d more than held her own against an accomplished criminal like Dylan Campbell, a child who’d delighted in cruelly dismissing her hapless grandmother, a child who’d had even more opportunity than Kenny Stapleton to plant incriminating evidence in Landon’s room.

  Was that why Landon had defaced his sketches of her? Had he figured out what had happened that night?

  Robin pictured the snow globe with its twirling little ballerina. Cassidy could have come across the snow globe when she was planting the balaclava. She could have transferred it to her room. And she’d been inside Alec’s San Francisco apartment. She could have spotted the ski mask in his closet and used it when formulating her plan to murder her mother and stepfather.

  Except she’d been shot as well, Robin reminded herself. It was a miracle she hadn’t died.

  What kind of monster shoots a twelve-year-old girl?

  Then, an even more troubling question: what if the monster is a twelve-year-old girl?

  “When can I go home?” Robin asked, once again shutting down such conjecture. The painkillers in her system were affecting her judgment, making her delusional.

  “As soon as the doctor gives you the okay.”

  “Think you’re strong enough to leave the hospital?” Blake asked.

  “I think so.”

  As i
f on cue, Dr. Arla Simpson walked into the room, a stethoscope around her neck. “Well, well. Look who’s conscious.”

  “Hello, Arlene.” Robin dug her nails into the palms of her hands, no longer sure if she was awake or back in one of her strange dreams.

  “It’s Arla now,” the doctor said with a smile “You gave us quite a scare. Luckily, the injury looked much worse than it was. The wound is actually pretty superficial, even though I’m sure it hurts like hell. And will probably hurt for quite some time. At least you’ll have an interesting scar to tell your grandchildren about.”

  “It’s pretty sexy, actually,” Blake said.

  Arla looked from Robin to Blake and back again. “He’s a keeper,” she whispered, unwrapping the stethoscope from her neck and holding it against Robin’s chest. “Nice strong heartbeat.” She reached for the blood pressure unit on the wall beside Robin’s head and wrapped its sleeve around Robin’s upper arm.

  Robin felt the pressure building as the sleeve tightened its grip, as if a hungry boa constrictor had latched onto her arm and was coiling toward her throat, preparing to swallow her whole.

  “Blood pressure’s a little elevated, but that’s to be expected under the circumstances.” Arla removed the apparatus from Robin’s arm. “I’ll write you a prescription for some antibiotics and a few painkillers for when this one wears off. You’ll come back tomorrow, we’ll change the bandages, and have another look. For now, if you feel up to it, you’re good to go.” Arla patted Robin’s knee, then left the room.

  “Thank you. My blouse…?”

  “Evidence,” the sheriff said.

  “I brought some clothes from home,” Melanie said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Can we see Daddy before we leave?” Cassidy asked.

  Robin nodded.

  Cassidy smiled, and Robin saw Tara in her face.

  Someone shot Tara in the face, she thought. Someone had slashed the nude painting of her in half, which suggested the attack had been personal and fueled with rage. Cassidy had admitted to being angry with her mother.

  Angry enough to shoot her?

  “Robin?” Cassidy was asking. “Is something wrong?”

  “What?”

  “You kind of froze up.”

  “You want me to get the doctor back in here?” Blake asked.