The Bad Daughter

by Joy Fielding

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “I’ll give you some privacy,” the sheriff said, walking to the door. “I’ll come by to get those statements in a few hours, if that’s all right.”

  “The sooner, the better,” Melanie said. “Never thought I’d hear myself say that,” she said after he was gone.

  Robin allowed Blake to help her off the bed, out of her hospital gown, and into the loose-fitting sundress Melanie had brought from home.

  “I’ll get a wheelchair,” Cassidy offered, running into the hall.

  “Sweet kid,” Blake said.

  Was she? Robin found herself thinking. Or was it possible that everything Kenny had said was true?

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Blake asked as Cassidy returned with the wheelchair. “Your face is a little…”

  “Scrunched up?” Robin said, resigned.

  Blake laughed. “Still cute, though.”

  Robin sank into the wheelchair’s black leather seat, and Blake pushed the chair through the door, wheeling her out of the emergency room and down the corridor to the next wing, Melanie and Cassidy beside them.

  “Well, if it isn’t our little miracle girl,” a nurse said, approaching Cassidy with open arms. “How are you, angel?”

  “Fine,” Cassidy said, returning the embrace.

  Our little miracle girl, Robin repeated silently. What am I missing?

  Cassidy had been shot and almost killed. It had been a miracle that she’d survived, a miracle that the bullet had missed both her heart and her lungs.

  There was no way anyone could have planned that. No one was that good a shot.

  Unless Kenny wasn’t a good shot at all.

  “Turns out it’s not as easy to hit your target as it looks on TV.”

  “Good thing that boy’s aim wasn’t better.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “What is it?” Melanie asked.

  “Robin,” Blake said. “Are you okay?”

  “I assume you’re here to see your father,” the nurse said, cutting short her conjecture.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s very low,” the nurse replied. “It won’t be much longer.”

  Cassidy grabbed Robin’s hand.

  “You don’t have to go in there,” Robin told her.

  “Yes, I do. I need to see him. To say goodbye.”

  “Then let’s get this show on the road.” Melanie marched into their father’s room.

  Blake pushed Robin’s wheelchair through the door. Robin saw immediately that her father’s once hardy complexion was the color of ash. His lips were partly open and his cheeks caved in, as if he were sucking on a lemon.

  “Looks like this is really it,” Melanie said.

  Cassidy approached the bed. The side rails were down, allowing her to lay her head against his chest. “Oh, poor Daddy.”

  What’s wrong with this picture?

  Robin watched her father’s face, half-expecting him to open his eyes and call out Cassidy’s name, as he had the last time they’d been here together.

  “Cassidy,” he’d cried.

  So glad to see her. So relieved she was alive and well.

  Unless he hadn’t been glad at all, Robin thought as Cassidy stretched to kiss his cheek. Unless relief had been the last thing he was feeling.

  Instead of being relieved and happy to see his stepdaughter, had he been trying to identify her as the person who shot him?

  “We should go,” Melanie said.

  They filed out of the room.

  “Do you think he’s going to a better place?” Cassidy asked.

  “Better than Red Bluff?” Melanie asked. “Hard to imagine.”

  They drove home in silence, Robin lost in a swirling labyrinth of conflicting thoughts. By the time Blake pulled his car into Melanie’s driveway, Robin had almost managed to convince herself that her suspicions were both ridiculous and unfounded. Once the drugs were out of her system, she’d start thinking clearly again.

  Blake turned off the car’s engine and came around to open the passenger door for Robin as Melanie and Cassidy exited the backseat.

  Cassidy immediately got between Robin and Blake, throwing her arms around their waists. “Can we have pizza tonight for dinner?” she asked.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The sheriff and a deputy arrived as they were finishing their pizza. “This is Deputy Reinhardt,” Prescott announced, introducing the younger man, the two officers joining Robin, Blake, Melanie, and Cassidy at the dining room table. The sheriff removed his hat and put it on the chair beside him, pulling a small recording device from his pocket while Deputy Reinhardt produced a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen. “Before we start, I have some good news,” the sheriff said. “We arrested Kenny Stapleton an hour ago.”

  “That’s a relief.” Blake reached over to squeeze Robin’s hand.

  “Where did you find him?” Cassidy asked.

  “At his father’s. It was actually his dad who turned him in. Wanted to know if there was any reward money.”

  “Families,” Melanie muttered, clearing the dinner dishes off the table and carrying them into the kitchen.

  “How are you feeling?” Prescott asked Robin.

  “Tired, sore.”

  “We’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”

  “Did Kenny say anything about…you know?” Cassidy asked.

  “Let’s not worry about Kenny right now. At the moment, I’m much more interested in what you have to tell me. And this time, young lady, I need the truth.”

  “The whole truth and nothing but,” Cassidy said with a shy smile.

  The smile sent an unpleasant shiver up Robin’s spine. Cassidy had told so many stories about that night. Would they ever know the whole truth about what had happened? Or would it die with her father?

  “Good,” Prescott pronounced. “You might as well get the ball rolling, Cassidy.” He glanced across the table at Robin. “I’ll need you to wait in another room, if you don’t mind. To ensure that her statement doesn’t influence yours.”

  “I understand.” Robin pushed herself away from the table, and Blake helped her to her feet.

  “Can’t Blake stay?” Cassidy asked. “Please? For support. I’d feel so much better.”

  Blake looked toward Robin.

  “As long as it’s okay with the sheriff.” The shiver in Robin’s spine twisted its way through her rib cage, like a snake trapped in a maze.

  “As long as you don’t interrupt or interfere in any way,” Prescott told Blake, “then I don’t have a problem with you being here.”

  “So you’ll stay?”

  “You’ll be all right?” Blake asked Robin.

  “I’ll be fine.” She moved slowly toward the kitchen, looking back briefly to see Cassidy reach for Blake’s hand.

  “What’s going on in there?” her sister asked as Robin entered the kitchen.

  “The sheriff is taking Cassidy’s statement.”

  “Wonder what it’ll be this time.” Melanie put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on.

  “Do you think—” Robin began, then stopped. “No, it’s too crazy.”

  “ ‘Crazy’ is a relative term around here. Do I think what?”

  Robin glanced guiltily toward the dining room. “Do you think there’s any possibility that Kenny could be telling the truth about Cassidy?”

  The two sisters stared at each other for several long seconds, their eyes measuring the chasm of distrust between them.

  “Do you?” Melanie asked.

  The sound of water from the dishwasher filled the room. “I need you to do something for me,” Robin told her sister. “And I need you to not ask questions.” She held her breath, waiting for Melanie to object.

  “What is it you need?” Melanie said.

  * * *

  —

  “There you are,” Blake said, entering the living room approximately forty minutes later, Cassidy on his heels. “How a
re you feeling?”

  Robin was sitting on the living room sofa, the TV turned to some inane reality show, her heart pounding so hard she was afraid it might burst the fresh stitches in her abdomen. Could they see how nervous she was?

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  “You look really tired,” Cassidy said.

  “It’s been a long day. How’d it go in there?”

  “Good.”

  “She did great,” Blake said, and Cassidy beamed. “Where’s Melanie?”

  “Upstairs. Said she’d had enough of all the drama and was going to bed.”

  “That’s our girl.” Blake sat down beside Robin, taking her hand in his.

  “The sheriff said you should go in now,” Cassidy said, squeezing in beside Blake.

  A phone rang in the other room. Robin heard the sheriff talking softly. Seconds later, he stood in the doorway to the living room, a vaguely stunned look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Robin asked.

  “That was the hospital,” Prescott said. “Your father…”

  “Daddy’s dead?” Cassidy cried.

  “No.” The sheriff lifted his hands into the air, the gesture mirroring the disbelief in his eyes. “That’s just it. He’s awake.”

  Robin swung her feet off the sofa. She was so light-headed, she feared she might faint. “I don’t understand. How can he be awake? We just saw him. The doctors were certain he wouldn’t make it through the night.”

  “The doctors can’t explain it. One minute the man was at death’s door, the next minute he was awake and talking.”

  “He’s talking?” Cassidy asked.

  “Apparently they can’t get him to shut up. Obviously I have to get over there right away.”

  “We’ll go with you.” Robin reached for Blake’s hand to steady her as she stood. “Melanie,” she yelled as they approached the stairway. “Melanie, get down here. It’s Dad! He’s awake!”

  They followed the sheriff to the front door.

  Only Cassidy held back. “Wait!” she cried as Prescott was reaching for the doorknob. “You can’t go.”

  Everyone stopped.

  “You can’t go,” she repeated, looking from the sheriff to Blake to Robin, to the top of the stairs where Melanie stood, then back finally to Robin.

  “I don’t understand,” Robin said.

  “Please,” Cassidy said. “You can’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have to tell you something.”

  The sheriff closed the front door.

  “We’re listening,” Robin said.

  “I lied.” Cassidy looked toward the floor.

  “You lied,” Prescott repeated.

  Dear God.

  “Yes. Before. And in my statement. I lied.”

  “About what?” Prescott asked.

  “About what happened that night.”

  “Okay, Cassidy,” the sheriff said. “Before you say another word, I have to advise you of your rights.”

  “I know my rights. I waive them. I don’t need an attorney. I need to tell you the truth before you talk to Daddy.”

  “All right,” the sheriff said.

  “It’s true what Kenny said,” Cassidy began.

  Robin collapsed against Blake’s side as Melanie joined them at the bottom of the stairs.

  “You’re telling us that you killed your mother?”

  “It’s not like you think.”

  “You didn’t shoot her?”

  “Yes, I did. I shot her.” She looked directly at Robin. “But there was a reason.”

  “The reason being that she was about to ruin your cushy little lifestyle by running off with my brother?” Melanie interjected.

  “No. That’s not why I did it.”

  “Why, then?” Robin asked.

  “Because…”

  “Because what?”

  Cassidy’s gaze shifted toward Blake, her voice a whisper. “Because…because she knew about Daddy.”

  “You mean she knew about his affairs?” Robin said.

  “No. I mean…I mean she knew about Daddy and me…what he was doing to me, what he’d been doing to me since I was six years old.”

  What?

  “Are you saying that your father molested you?” the sheriff asked.

  “You lying little bitch,” Melanie said.

  “I’m not lying. It’s the truth. He’s been molesting me ever since he married Mommy. And she knew all about it and didn’t do anything to stop him.”

  Why does this sound so familiar? Robin wondered.

  “He was molesting me,” Cassidy insisted. “And Mommy knew about it and she let it happen. She didn’t care.”

  “It’s my favorite show, Bleeding Hearts,” Robin heard Cassidy say. “That’s Penny. She just told her twin sister, Emily, that their father has been molesting her for years, and now poor Emily doesn’t know what to believe.”

  She recalled that Cassidy had overheard her conversation with Melanie at their mother’s gravesite, regarding their father’s multiple affairs. “She knew all along,” Robin had told her sister. Cassidy had been standing just feet away.

  The child was indiscriminate in her borrowing, Robin realized. A little bit of this, a little bit of that. She would use whatever her instincts told her would work. She’s been playing me all along.

  “She was gonna run off with Alec and leave me with him. So I called Kenny and told him everything. And that’s when we decided what had to be done.”

  “You decided to kill your mother and stepfather,” the sheriff said.

  “I had to do it. Don’t you understand?”

  “Tell us what happened.”

  Cassidy shrugged. “It went down pretty much the way Kenny said. My mom and I had been fighting all night. I called Kenny. He came over. We did what had to be done,” she said again.

  “Just like you had to set up Alec and Landon?” Melanie asked.

  “No. We didn’t plan that. At least not right away. It was supposed to look like a home invasion. But the sheriff kept asking questions. And I remembered seeing a ski mask in Alec’s apartment, and I thought it was kind of a neat detail, so I said the men who shot us were wearing ski masks. And I said that they were big and muscular so no one would suspect Kenny. And then the sheriff found out Alec was in town that night and, I don’t know, everything just kind of fell into place.”

  It was kind of a neat detail? Everything just kind of fell into place?

  “And Landon?” Melanie asked.

  “I like Landon,” Cassidy said. “But, well, it was kind of his own fault.”

  “His own fault,” Robin repeated.

  “He was getting suspicious, sticking to me like glue. Kenny said not to worry, that even if he figured it out and said something, nobody was gonna believe a retard. But just in case, we hid some jewelry in his room.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t personal. It just…”

  “Had to be done,” Robin and Melanie said together.

  “Was almost killing you part of the plan as well?” the sheriff asked.

  “No. Kenny was just supposed to shoot me in the shoulder, but the idiot missed. And now he’s trying to make it look like I’m some sort of psycho when all I was doing was trying to stop Daddy from molesting me.” She brought her hands to her lips, almost as if she were praying. Tears filled her eyes. “Please, Robin. You have to believe me. I loved Daddy Greg. In spite of everything, I loved him. I still do. I didn’t tell you the truth because I didn’t want you to ever have to find out about him.”

  “You did this for me?”

  “I lied to protect you.”

  “You shot my father.”

  “Because of what he was doing to me.”

  “You killed your mother.”

  “Because she knew and didn’t stop him.”

  “Tara would never have let anyone hurt you. She loved you more than anything on earth.”

  “She didn’t know anything about love. Neither of them did. They were alway
s fighting. She was cheating on him. He was cheating on her.”

  Cheating on Tara with a grandmother, for God’s sake. Does that sound like a man who would sexually abuse a child?

  “There are many words to describe my father,” Robin said—bastard, prick, cad, asshole, jerk, scoundrel, son of a bitch—“but ‘pedophile’ isn’t one of them.”

  Tears began streaming down Cassidy’s cheeks. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Here’s what I believe,” Robin said. “I believe you shot your mother and my father because they were in your way. And because you thought you could get away with it. Maybe it was because they tried to stop you from seeing Kenny. Maybe because Tara was planning to leave my father and put a dent in your cozy lifestyle. Maybe you wanted the money so you could take off to L.A. and be a famous model. Or maybe it was a combination of all those things. I don’t know and I don’t really care. Just like you didn’t care about Kenny once you thought you saw a better opportunity. Just like you don’t care about Landon or Melanie or me or anyone but yourself.”

  Cassidy’s tears came to an abrupt halt, freezing like tiny icicles on her cheeks. “Well, then, I guess it’s your father’s word against mine.”

  “Oh, I think your words are going to be all we need,” Robin said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that my father is still in a coma. He isn’t talking to anyone.”

  “I don’t understand.” Cassidy’s eyes shot toward the sheriff. “You said the hospital called…”

  Melanie raised her hand. “Yes, that would have been me. The sheriff was kind enough to play along.”

  “Cassidy Campbell,” the sheriff said as Deputy Reinhardt approached, “I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Tara Davis and—”

  “Wait! Robin, please…”

  “What are you talking to her for?” Melanie asked. “This whole charade was her idea.”

  Deputy Reinhardt pulled Cassidy’s hands behind her back and snapped the handcuffs around her tiny wrists.

  “I want my father,” Cassidy said. “My real father.”

  “Of course you do,” Robin said. “You two deserve each other.”

  The sheriff took Cassidy’s elbow, pushed her toward the front door.

  “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Cassidy said, spinning back around. “Tell me, big shot L.A. therapist, do you really think any jury in the country is going to believe a twelve-year-old girl shot her own mother for no good reason? When I get through testifying, there won’t be a dry eye in the place.”