After She's Gone (12 page)

“He’s my husband.”

“And he wants to fuck me.”

Cassie’s guts clenched. “And that’s what you live for, isn’t it? Making men,
any
man, want you. Even the married ones. What does that say about you?”

“What does it say about them?” she countered. “Or their wives? So who’s really to blame?”

“Not you, obviously.” Cassie’s voice had been low and menacing. She’d felt her eyes narrow as her temper took over. “Never you, right?”

“Don’t turn this around. Don’t blame me. Okay, finally, we’ve hit what you’re good at: blaming me.”

“Untrue.”

“Ask Mom.”

“Leave her out of it.” So now they were down to the bones of it. Their mother. No, make that their beautiful, successful mother who was at the heart of all their disputes. Not that Jenna hadn’t been fair to each of them, loving both of her daughters equally, if differently. And truth to tell, Cassie had been a lot more difficult a daughter to raise. She knew that.

“I wish to hell that you weren’t my sister!” Allie suddenly shouted, her voice rising.

Cassie had wanted to strike out, to knock her down, to wipe that superior attitude off her face and grind it into the ground. She would have loved to let loose and get into one of the fights they’d had as children. When she’d been bigger than her younger sister, when she’d always prevailed, when she could make Allie with one look go running to their mother.

“Maybe I’d just better go,” Cassie said woodenly. “I wanted you to understand why I made the suggestions I did to the script, but you’re not interested. It’s just making things worse, so forget it.”

“You made those changes to prove a point. Because you hate me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You’ve always hated me. Been jealous as hell and regretted the day you suggested, no,
begged
me to come down here. But then I took you up on the dare, started auditioning for parts against you and blew you out of the water! Dad saw it the minute I took my first screen test and he dropped all of his interest in you because of me.
I
was his chance to revive his own career as a producer.” Her smile was almost evil. “Until I ditched him. Just like he dumped us.”

Cassie’s heart was pounding in her ears. “This is ridiculous,” she whispered, all the while knowing Allie wasn’t completely off the mark as far as her original intentions of getting Allie to come to California. Cassie had begged her to come, then regretted it when Allie’s celebrity had skyrocketed. But over time Cassie had mellowed, accepted that Allie was the better actress, the true star in the family. She didn’t want the argument to escalate, so she tried to back down. As rain pummeled the windows, Cassie used every device she’d learned from years in therapy to walk away before things got worse. She backed up a step, mentally counted to ten, then said, “I’m outta here,” and headed for the entry hall and her jacket.

“Sure,” Allie mocked. “Run away. That’s what you’re good at.”

Cassie fought the urge to bite back. This was childish. Stupid. Like all their dumb sibling stuff. She jammed her arms into the jacket’s sleeves.

“You’re absolutely pathetic,” Allie charged.

“I guess we’re even,” she stated flatly. “Because I wish you weren’t my sister, either.”

At that last salvo, Allie hurried after her, standing only inches from her as Cassie cinched the jacket’s belt tightly around her waist. “Get out and don’t come back.”

“You’ve been a pain in the ass forever, Allie.” Reaching for the door handle, she made the colossal mistake of adding, “I wish you’d never been born!”

Slap!
Allie’s palm struck.

Pain exploded in Cassie’s head as it spun.

She stumbled back a step, recoiling in shock.

“Bitch!” Allie cried, her features twisted.

Anger pulsed red inside Cassie’s head. Every muscle in her body bunched. Without thinking she struck back, pushing her sister so hard Allie stumbled backward into the living room, her calves colliding with the edge of the coffee table, her feet coming out from under her. She’d landed on the floor, her head glancing off the arm of the sofa, her legs sprawled.

“Shit!” Allie cried. “You’re a freak. A fucking freak!” Frantically she scooted into a sitting position and rubbed the knot that was forming on the side of her head. “Something’s seriously wrong with you!”

The words rang far too true and they’d stung.

That instant Cassie’s rage ebbed.

Allie caught the change and realized she’d hit her mark, deep into the soft center of Cassie’s insecurities. “You need help. Serious help,” Allie charged. “I mean it. You should see a shrink. I mean a real psychiatrist, not Dr. Feel Good or whatever her name is. She’s not helping. In fact, I think you’re worse from seeing her!”

Pulling herself to her feet, Allie held on to the back of the couch for support, keeping the piece of furniture between them. “Do yourself and Mom and
Trent
and the whole damned world a favor, Cassie. Commit yourself! Or have the state do it! You’ve never been right since that creep nearly killed you!”

Allie’s anger had dissipated and she was shaking. Pleading. She’d wounded Cassie, yes, intended to hurt her, but she’d also made a painfully true point.

Cassie had backed away and wondered at her sister’s deep-seated hatred of her. Somehow she’d left. Cassie didn’t remember much about the drive home. Had she gone straight back to her hotel room? Or had she driven aimlessly around the rain-washed streets of Portland before returning to her suite and flinging herself onto her bed? Had she returned to Allie’s apartment? Lost track of time? Done something unthinkable, something she’d regret for the rest of her life? No! She couldn’t have. Yet, she shuddered. All she really recalled was that she’d woken up hours later with a serious migraine that had nearly kept her from the shoot.

She’d arrived on set to find out that Allie’s assistant, Cherise, had called Little Bea and claimed illness. Lucinda Rinaldi had stepped into Allie’s costume for the reshooting of that final, fateful scene. It appeared that Cassie had been the last person to see her sister before Allie had fallen off the face of the earth.

“Where are you?” Cassie whispered now, leaning against the slick tiles of the tiny shower stall. Not for the first time she wondered if she were somehow at fault, at least partially. The fight. Allie hitting her head. Emotional and physical trauma that she, Cassie, had inflicted. The black hole of missing hours.

And now this. The not knowing.

She started to cry, tears mingling with the drizzle running from the showerhead over her body. Just like the guilt. Always the guilt. The truth was that she loved her sister and yes, there was envy and pain involved, even jealousy and anger, but she still remembered the scared little girl Allie had once been, the nerdy kid who’d been so shy. The girl Cassie had felt an intense need to protect. Before everything had gone so far downhill. God, what had happened to them? Angrily she swiped the salty drops away and pulled herself together. She was no use to herself or Allie or anyone by falling into a billion pieces.

Drawing a breath, she washed her hair and lathered and rinsed her body, scrubbing hard as if the very act could scour away any remaining bits of self-loathing and doubts. Once she was finished, she stepped out of the tile and glass enclosure and realized she hadn’t brought a towel with her.

Dripping, she padded to the hall closet, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her. She found a bath sheet and wrapped herself in the thick terry cloth before returning to the bathroom and swiping at the fogged-over mirror.

Her phone rang as she was staring at her reflection, and she quickly made her way to the kitchen, where her cell lay charging on the counter. She’d missed the call and saw that no number registered on the screen. All that was listed was:
Private call.
She felt a moment’s fear, the old worries returning, but told herself it was no big deal. Probably just a wrong number. Or a telemarketer. Whoever it was, if they wanted something, they would call back.

She checked the screen again. Another call had come in, a number she recognized as belonging to Trent. This time he didn’t leave a message and she was surprised that she felt a prick of disappointment, but there it was, a tiny new rip in her already fragile heart. “Fool,” she whispered, and then noticed the face-down picture on a side table in the living room. She and Trent noticed. So much in love. She picked it up. The glass was cracked, a scar from a fight she’d had with Trent when she’d hurled the wedding photo across the living room they’d shared. Her temper had always run white-hot and the fact that she’d caught him having drinks with her sister had sent her over the edge. When he’d tried to explain, she hadn’t listened. Instead she’d thrown the wedding photo across the room, aiming for his face. After he left she’d tossed the picture into the trash only to retrieve it the next day.

She looked at it now. In the photograph, she was wearing a short white dress. Trent was in jeans and an open-throated shirt. It was night, they stood near the street, the lights of Las Vegas blurring behind them. They were so happy, Trent’s crooked, irreverent grin in place, her smile as bright as the future stretching before them. She’d been certain at that moment their life together would be worry-free and guaranteed to have a happy ending. She’d been so naive. Such an idiot to start dating him again after their breakup in Oregon. Granted, they’d separated mainly because of distance and family pressures: She was leaving for LA, and he was staying in Oregon. Her mother had been worried, Cassie had endured so much, she was concerned about the relationship. And though Trent hadn’t given a rip about Jenna’s feelings at the time, Cassie had been confused.

Well, wasn’t she always?

Nothing had changed much there. Maybe her fury at Trent on the night of the fight had been misdirected. She knew now that Allie had targeted her husband, not the other way around. How sick was that, her own sister actually wanting to sleep with him? It was really messed up, but, of course, Cassie’s relationship with Allie had always been difficult and weird.

She hefted the only photograph of Trent she’d kept and considered throwing it away. Permanently. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. She wasn’t as rash as she once had been, at least she hoped that was the case. She set the picture face down on the table. He was just another bastard who’d crossed her path. One of a handful. Her taste in men had always been less than stellar, probably due to “daddy issues.” After all, Robert was always leaving his current wife for the next best thing. Not exactly a candidate for Father of the Year.

“Get over it,” she told herself.

Allie, as it turned out, had been right: Cassie was a screw up and a mental case.

Still, she wasn’t going to let paranoia stop her. Nor would she allow Allie’s questionable morals where Trent was concerned veer Cassie from her course.

Maybe she should start looking now. She wasn’t tired. In fact she was antsy, needed to do something to calm herself down and think clearly. Maybe she needed a drink? Or a walk? Even a drive? Risky, but then what in life wasn’t?

She dropped her towel.

Somehow, some way, she was going to find Allie.

Then the little princess could eat her words.

 

J
enna felt a sudden chill, as if a ghost had just walked over her soul.

It was silly really, but as she stepped into the attic and snapped on the light, she went cold inside. It was night, Shane was working in the den downstairs and she needed time alone. To think. To consider her life. To silently pray that her daughters were safe. She’d used the excuse of looking for her grandmother’s recipe box, lost when it had been packed away during the kitchen remodel.

The attic was cold, its sloped ceiling uninsulated, the sharp tips of roofing nails visible between the rafters. One of the light bulbs had burned out, leaving just one small bulb to illuminate the vast space with its dormers and peek-a-boo windows. She pulled her sweater around her body a little more tightly. Here, she thought, was the detritus of her life, the pieces and things that no longer fit into her daily routine.

Boxes, broken tables, a broken lamp, pictures and frames stacked in a corner. The wind was blowing hard outside, whistling through the rafters in this section of the rambling old house, one of the few places she hadn’t renovated over the years. She ran a finger across the edge of a box, felt the dust collect on her skin and saw a bookcase filled with old electronic equipment and wires connected to nothing. Here were stashed the remnants of her life, boxes of possessions from her school days, college, and her marriage to Robert, things she’d never had the heart nor time to dispose of. Each of her children, too, had a collection of papers, trophies, clothes, books, and toys that had settled in the attic for years.

The scratch of tiny claws suggested she wasn’t alone and she scanned the ceiling for bats, then avoided the darkest corners that could be home for mice or rats or squirrels, even raccoons.

Not exactly the most peaceful or comfortable place to think. She dusted off an old rocker wedged between two stacks of plastic cartons and sat, letting the chair sway of its own accord. She’d rocked her babies in this very rocker, now forgotten and stained. She thought of her children and worried about them. Tears burned the back of her eyes as she saw a picture of Allie, distorted slightly in the dim light, her image just visible through the side of the plastic bin. She’d been around eight, her adult front teeth just showing through her gums, her smile wide and still innocent. Jenna moved some of the boxes, then opened the tub to extract Allie’s second grade school picture. Allie had been such an awkward girl at the time, an innocent if introverted kid who had no idea the beauty she’d become.

“Oh, baby,” Jenna whispered, her throat thick, the frigid air in the room burrowing deep into her bones. “Where are you?” Sniffling, she looked up to this attic where Allie had played as a child, where she’d hidden or built a fort or spent hours reading. Alone.

What had happened to change things so?

A divorce, yes, to Allie’s ultimate bewilderment.

A move that she didn’t comprehend. Both she and Cassie had loved LA and hadn’t understood Jenna’s reasons for taking her children to a place she thought safer, a ranch in Oregon out of the fast-paced life, the glitter of Hollywood.

Then in Oregon came a monster. A deranged fan who had terrorized them all.

Also a stepfather she’d accepted if not embraced.

And a sister. Older. More rebellious. One who required most of Jenna’s attention. Cassie and Allie’s relationship had always been strained and it had only gotten worse, much worse, after the attack ten years ago.

She shuddered at the thought of the madman who had killed senselessly and brutally, then set his sights on Jenna and her girls. Cassie had not only lost her boyfriend, but nearly her own life and had been traumatized, nearly committed at that time. Jenna had focused on getting her daughter mentally well and in the process, she now assumed, ignored her younger, more serious and stable daughter. Had the rift begun then? At the time Allie’s relationship with her father was nearly nonexistent and Jenna had been wrapped in guilt about inadvertently putting Cassie’s life in danger. Looking back, she had probably ignored Allie’s wants and needs, or at least put them beneath Cassie’s. And then there was the fact that Cassie had been much more popular with the boys. Probably her irreverent attitude had attracted them like flies, while bookish, “I’m bored” Allie hadn’t gotten a second glance. She’d matured late and always, Jenna had sensed, envied her sister’s appeal to the opposite sex. Being Cassie Kramer’s younger sister in school had resulted in a grudge that hadn’t eased with time, not even when the tables had turned as adults and Allie had been lavished with all of the attention once she’d been “discovered” in Hollywood.

But childhood despairs ran deep. Never completely evaporated. She knew it herself.

Deeper in the plastic tub she found the stuffed elephant that had been Allie’s “go to” cuddle toy as a toddler and into school. Jenna smiled and stroked the once-blue trunk, while noticing one of the eyes was missing and there was a rip in the seam of the elephant’s belly.

She remembered telling her girls to clean out their rooms and haul all their things up to the attic during the remodel of the bedroom wing. Apparently this box was never retrieved and returned to Allie’s room. Like so many things, she thought.

Footsteps heralded Shane’s approach.

“Jenna?” he called up the stairs. The first step creaked with his weight. “You up here?”

“Coming,” she said, and reluctantly left the old rocker with its memories behind. She hesitated for a moment beneath the single burning bulb and cast one final look around, all the while thinking of her daughters.

“Please,” she prayed under her breath as she clicked off the light, “wherever they are, keep them safe.”