The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

  When she brought the girls to look at the house, she had held her breath, waiting for their reaction. They had immediately run up the stairs to see where their rooms would be.

  “Oh, can this be mine, Mommy? I love the pink walls!” Bella had asked after checking them all out.

  Daphne had looked at Tallulah. “Fine with me. I like the one with the built-in bookcases,” Tallulah said.

  “It’s settled, then.” She’d smiled. “You like it?” They’d both nodded.

  “Mommy, will this be your room?” Bella had taken her hand and pulled her to the master bedroom.

  “Yes, this will be mine, and Grandmom will have the third floor to herself.”

  “Yay! You’ll be so close to me.”

  “That makes you happy?” she’d asked.

  Bella had nodded. “I used to get scared in that big house, with you and Daddy so far from me. This is so nice.”

  Daphne had hugged her. “Yes, it is.” And she’d said a silent thanks that she would never have to lock her bedroom door again.

  The refrigerator was filled with their favorite foods; there was ice cream in the freezer and candy in the pantry. Daphne had left her scale in Connecticut and felt healthier and more beautiful than she ever had. Sometimes she would still reach for her food journal, and she’d have to remind herself that she didn’t have to write things down anymore. She’d brought it with her as a reminder never to let anyone control her again. She was delighted to keep those extra ten pounds she’d put on, which gave her a feminine and shapely form. Walking into the family room and hearing SpongeBob’s braying laughter, watching her daughters revel in the silliness, overjoyed her. She relished the freedom to make her own choices without fear of reprisal. It was like letting out a sigh of relief that had been pent up for years.

  School would let out in another three weeks, and they were all looking forward to a lazy summer collecting seashells and learning how to surf. She loved the simplicity of their life here. No more packed schedules and regimented days. When she drove them to school on their first day, Bella had looked at her with surprise.

  “Aren’t we going to have a nanny that will drive us?”

  “No, darling. I’m happy to take you.”

  “But don’t you need to get to the gym?”

  “Why do I need the gym? I can ride my bike to the beach and take a walk. Lots of things to do. It’s too beautiful here to be stuck inside.”

  “But what if you get fat?”

  It had been like a knife to the heart. Clearly Jackson’s imprint wasn’t going to be as easy to wash away as she’d hoped.

  “We’re not going to worry about fat or thin anymore—only healthy. God made our bodies very smart, and if we put good things in them and do fun things for exercise, it will all be okay.”

  Both girls had looked at her a bit dubiously, but she’d work on it over time.

  Daphne’s mother had arrived last week, and had been as enchanted with the house and the area as Daphne. It felt so good to have her mother back in her life for real.

  Now the cab was pulling to a stop, and Daphne paid the driver. When she walked into the office building, the familiar feeling of dread engulfed her. She squared her shoulders, took a long breath, and reminded herself that now she had nothing to fear. She didn’t belong to him anymore. She sent a text and waited. Five minutes later, Douglas, Jackson’s assistant, came down on the elevator and walked over. He gave Daphne a hug.

  “I’m glad you made it. I just got the call. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Does he have any idea?”

  Douglas shook his head.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Bad. I’ve been giving them the spreadsheets for months now. I was finally able to get some of the account numbers two weeks ago. Pretty sure that’s what clinched it.”

  “Shall we go up?” Daphne asked.

  “Yes, let me sign you in.” He turned around and looked behind her. “They’re here,” he whispered.

  There were four men clad in shiny blue raid jackets, the gold letters “FBI” embossed across the left breast, entering the building. They approached the security desk, flashing their credentials.

  “Come on, let’s get upstairs before they do,” Douglas said.

  As the elevator ascended, she felt a throbbing pulse in her wrists and a tingling all the way to her fingertips. Her face was hot, and she felt a sudden wave of nausea overwhelm her.

  “Are you okay?” Douglas asked.

  She swallowed, put her hand on her stomach, and nodded. “I’ll be fine. Just felt a little woozy there for a minute.” She tried to smile. “Don’t worry. I’m all right.”

  “You sure? You don’t have to be here, you know.”

  “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Daphne followed Douglas into the suite of offices and went with him to his, directly outside Jackson’s.

  She had a thought and quickly turned to Douglas. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have something to say to him before they go in.”

  “You’d better hurry.”

  She flung open the door without bothering to knock, and after a confused second, Jackson looked at her in surprise. He rose from his chair, looking impeccable in his custom suit, an angry scowl on his face.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to give you a little going-away present,” Daphne answered sweetly, pulling a small package out of her handbag.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Get out of my building before I have you thrown out.” Jackson picked up the phone on his desk.

  “Don’t you want to see what I have, Jackson? The gift I’ve brought for you.”

  “I don’t know what your little game is, Daphne, but I’m not interested. You’re boring me. You always bored me. Get the hell out of here.”

  “Well, guess what. Your life is about to get really interesting. No more boredom.” She tossed the package onto his desk. “Here you go. Enjoy your time away.”

  She opened the door and held her breath when she saw the men from the lobby advance toward the offices. Their faces were unsmiling and ominous.

  Jackson and Daphne turned to look as Douglas escorted the suited quartet into Jackson’s office.

  Daphne stepped aside as one of the men held out his credentials. “Jackson Parrish?”

  Jackson nodded. “Yes.”

  “FBI,” the older agent said, as the others fanned out around Jackson.

  “What is this all about?” Jackson’s voice cracked as he raised it. The office was now deathly quiet. Chairs pivoted toward the commotion, all eyes on Jackson.

  “Sir, I have a warrant for your arrest.”

  “This is bullshit. For what?” Jackson said, his voice having returned.

  “For thirty-six counts of wire fraud, money laundering, and tax evasion. And I assure you it is not bullshit.”

  “Get the hell out of here! I haven’t done anything. Do you know who I am?”

  “I most definitely do. Now if you would kindly turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  “I’ll sue your asses. You’ll be lucky to be writing parking tickets when I’m through with you.”

  “Sir, I am going to ask you one more time to turn around and put your hands behind your back,” the agent said as he firmly pivoted Jackson, leaning him against the wall.

  With his cheek against the wall, he sputtered, “You! This is your doing, isn’t it?”

  Daphne smiled. “I wanted to see the justice system in action. You know, it’s educational. You taught me that I should always be improving my mind.”

  He lunged for her, but the men stopped him and cuffed him. “You bitch! No matter how long it takes, I’ll get even with you.” He struggled against the agent holding him. “You’ll be sorry you did this.”

  A rather large agent standing behind Jackson pushed the chain of the
cuffs that were in his hand gently toward the ground. Having no choice, Jackson dropped to his knees, wincing in pain.

  Daphne shook her head. “I’m not sorry. And you can’t hurt me anymore. You have no one to blame but yourself. If you hadn’t gotten greedy and set up those offshore accounts, and if you’d paid taxes on that money like you should have, none of this would be happening. All I did was make sure your new assistant was someone with the integrity to turn you in.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Douglas came and stood next to Daphne. “My sister has CF. Daphne’s foundation saved her life.” He looked at one of the men and nodded.

  “Excuse me, ma’am . . . sir, I need the two of you to step back, please.” The agent sneaked in a wink and a wry smile. “Let’s go, Mr. Parrish,” he said, lifting him off his knees and in the direction of the elevator.

  “Wait,” she said. “Don’t forget your present, Jackson.”

  She grabbed the package from the desk and slipped it into his pocket.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I need to see that.” The tallest of the men put his hand out.

  She took the package from him and unwrapped it, holding up a cheap plastic turtle from the dollar store. “Here you are, sweetie,” she said as she dangled it in front of him. “Something to remember me by. Like you, it has no power over me anymore.”

  Seventy-Three

  Daphne had one more stop to make. She got out of the cab and told the driver to wait for her. It still felt strange, having to ring the bell to her former home. Margarita opened the door and threw her hands up in surprise. “Missus! It’s so good to see you.”

  She gave her a hug. “You too, Margarita.” She lowered her voice. “I hope she’s treating you okay.”

  Margarita’s face became a mask, and she looked around nervously. “Did you come to see Mister?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m here to see Amber.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “I be right back.”

  “What are you doing here?” Amber appeared, looking rail-thin and pale.

  “We need to talk.”

  She looked at Daphne suspiciously. “About what?”

  “Let’s go inside. I don’t think you want your staff overhearing.”

  “This is my house now. I’ll do the inviting.” She pursed her lips and then looked around nervously. “Fine, follow me.”

  Daphne followed her into the living room and took a seat in front of the fireplace. An enormous portrait of Amber and Jackson on their wedding day had replaced the family portrait. Even though Amber had been pregnant and showing at the time, she’d had the artist paint her sylphlike, without the bulging belly.

  Looking at Daphne warily, she spoke. “What gives?”

  “Don’t ever bother my children again.”

  She rolled her eyes. “All I did was send them an invitation to their brother’s baptism. Did you fly all the way from California just to complain about that?”

  Ignoring Amber’s taunting, Daphne leaned toward her. “You listen to me, you little bitch. If you ever send them so much as a postcard, I’ll have your head. Is that clear, Lana?”

  She leaped out of the chair and came close. “What did you call me?”

  “You heard me . . . Lana. Lana Crump.” Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Such an unfortunate last name. It’s no wonder you don’t use it.”

  Amber’s face was red, and her breath came fast. “How did you know?”

  “I hired a detective after Meredith confronted you. I found out everything then.”

  “But you were still my friend. You believed me. I don’t understand.”

  “Did you really think I was that stupid? That I didn’t know exactly what you were up to? Please.” She shook her head. “Oh, Amber, I’m so worried about Jackson cheating. I could never give him a son. You ate it all up, did everything just the way I’d hoped you would, even ordered the perfume I was ‘allergic’ to.” She put air quotes around allergic. “And once you were carrying his son, I knew you had him. The reason I never got pregnant was because I had an IUD.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You planned all of this?”

  Daphne smiled. “You thought you were getting the perfect life, the perfect man. How do you like him now, Lana? Has he shown you his true colors yet?”

  Amber glared at Daphne. “I thought it was just me. That it was because of what he found out. He told me I was nothing better than white trash.” She looked at Daphne with hatred. “You’re the one who gave him the file?”

  She nodded. “I read all about how you framed that poor boy Matthew Lockwood for rape when he wouldn’t marry you. How you let him sit in prison for two years for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “That son of a bitch deserved it. He kept me his dirty secret, slept with me all summer while his rich girlfriend was away. And his mother—you’d think she’d have wanted her grandchild. But she said I should have it aborted, that any child of mine would be nothing but trash. I laughed while they put her precious son away. I loved seeing the Lockwood name tainted with scandal and dirt. They thought they were so wonderful, so high-and-mighty.”

  “You still feel no remorse? Even though because of you, he was beaten in prison and is in a wheelchair for the rest of his life?”

  Amber stood up and began to pace. “So what? If he was too much of a weakling to take care of himself in prison, that’s not my fault. He’s nothing more than a coddled mama’s boy.” She shrugged. “Besides, he has money; he’s well taken care of. And his simpering girlfriend married him.”

  “And what about your son?”

  “What about Jackson Junior?”

  “No, your other son. How could you just abandon him?”

  “What should I have done? My mother found my diary and went to the police. They found that juror I convinced to fight for the conviction, and he agreed to testify against me. They arrested me. What kind of mother turns in her own daughter? She said she felt sorry for Matthew—like that spoiled brat deserved any sympathy. Once I got out on bail, I had to run. No way was I going to prison just for giving Matthew what he deserved.” She took a deep breath. “But I would like to get my son back, punish Matthew and his fat cow wife. She’s raising him like she’s his mother. He’s my kid, not hers. It’s not fair.”

  “Fair?” Daphne laughed. “He’s so much better off without you. Tell me something, who is Amber Patterson? Did you have anything to do with her going missing?”

  She rolled her eyes again. “Of course not. I hitched a ride out of town with a trucker from Missouri to Nebraska. I got a job waitressing there, and one of my regulars was a guy who worked in the records department. He got me the credentials.”

  “How did you get her passport?”

  She smiled then. “Oh, well, you know how small towns are. After a while, I finagled a way to meet her poor mom. She worked at the grocery store in town. Took a few months, but I guess I reminded her of her lost daughter. It helped that I wore my hair the way she had and talked to some of her friends and pretended I liked the same things. Her mom would make me dinner once a week—what a shitty cook. I found out Amber was supposed to have gone to France with her senior class—that’s the only reason the stupid hick had a passport. So I stole it.” She shrugged. “She also had a nice sapphire ring. I took that too. She didn’t need it anymore.”

  Daphne shook her head. “There really is nothing beneath you.”

  “You could never understand. Growing up dirt-poor, with everyone looking down on me, I learned early on that if you want something, you have to get it for yourself. No one’s going to just hand it over.”

  “And do you have what you want now?”

  “I did at first. Until he found out about my past.” Her earlier bravado was waning. She straightened and looked at Daphne. “If you hadn’t given him that file, I could leave him, get child support and alimony. But if I do, he’ll turn me in.” Her demeanor changed suddenly, and Daphne could almost see the transformation taking place. “Daphne, you
know what he’s like. We’re both victims now. You have to help me. You figured out a way to escape. There must be something I could use on him. Is there?” She was the old Amber now; the one Daphne had believed was her friend. She was narcissistic enough to believe that she could still manipulate her.

  Daphne looked at her. “Tell me something, honestly: did you ever consider me a friend?”

  Amber took Daphne’s hand in hers. “Of course I was your friend. I loved you, Daph. It was just too tempting. I had nothing, and you had everything. Please forgive me. I know what I did was wrong, and I’m sorry. Our children are related. It’s like we are sisters now. You’re a good person. Please, help me.”

  “So if I help you, then what? You’ll leave him, and we can go back to being friends again?”

  “Yes. Friends again. For Julie and Charlene.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Amber realized her mistake.

  “Yeah. For Charlene. Who never existed.” Daphne stood up. “Enjoy your bed, Amber. You’ll be spending lots of time in it. Jackson’s a man of strong appetites.”

  Amber scowled at Daphne. “You want to know the truth? I was never your friend. You had all the money, all the power, and you gave me your crumbs. You didn’t even appreciate what you had. All that money he spent on you and your bratty kids. It was obscene. All the while, I was working in his office like a dog.” Her eyes were cold. “I did what I had to do. It was so boring, listening to all your depressing stories. She’s dead! I wanted to scream. No one cares about Julie. She’s been rotting in the ground for twenty years. Let it go.”

  Daphne grabbed her wrist and held it tight. “Don’t you ever speak my sister’s name again—do you hear me? You deserve everything you’re getting.” She let go of her. “Take a look around. Try and commit to memory what it was like living the good life, because it’s over now.”