Aftermath (42 page)

She couldn’t keep a scoff from slipping past her lips. “I think you’re forgetting your losses.”

He shook his head.

Lilly faced all three sets of eyes, her brother’s holding the biggest dose of concern she’d seen since waking from her coma. As if she’d crumble and he’d be left picking up the pieces, again.

“Oh, I get it. She felt beholden to me. Gave me a big, giant thank you via intravenous coma. Sure. Makes perfect sense. I can now live a long and prosperous life. Raise my daughter without issue. Get another job. Maybe fall in love again. Have more kids.”

“Lilly...” Her brother moved toward her.

She shook her head. “I’m really sorry a child she had to give up is missing. And if I’m supposed to feel something—anguish, sorrow—anything on Beth’s behalf, you’ll have to excuse me. I don’t. And I don’t plan to understand how she would think, even for half a second, that I’d want to stay in a coma. Even if my husband was dead.”

Jonas held her gaze. Didn’t speak. Then it flicked over to Amanda and Baker Jackson, his lips a thin line. “There’s another missing girl, isn’t there?”

Her brother rocked back on his heels. “Yup. From right here in Charlotte. That’d make two if Paige Jurik counts. Been missing since yesterday. Goes to school with Ariana.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE DAYROOM HELD an eerie kind of quiet.

The kind that smashed Beth’s stomach into a tight-coiled knot. Had her moving against the wrist restraints and the chain leading to the shackles, on her ankles, as if a combination of maneuvers would break the iron confinement.

At least they’d undone the leg restraints, which afforded better mobility. Not much, but enough to scratch an itch, if needed. Keep the edge of tight anxiety from spreading through her system.

The cuffs could only mean something big awaited her. Or the prison wasn’t taking chances with any of their death row inmates after the foiled coup.

Could be a combination of both.

Dexter had escorted her, along with the two guards, now stationed on either side of the exit. When she might have asked for information about this sudden visitor, she’d remained silent. As if a large hand had swooped down and clamped her jaw shut. Cut out her tongue. Robbed her of breath.

When they’d reached the dayroom, he’d stopped. Signaled she should enter, but not proceeded any further himself.

Why bother with the short walk? Surely the guards could have handled it. She might have inquired about it, but the look on his face had stopped her. Gone was the blank canvas. The almost comforting lack of expression.

Instead, heavy contemplation resided over chiseled features. An introspect she might dissect given enough time and opportunity.

Then again, being prepared for every eventuality had carried her through life. It had chosen today for a vacation. And yesterday. The day before that.

Amanda’s eyes connected with her as one of the guards let her into the day room. A Manila packet of papers was in one hand. Her steady gaze revealed nothing as she escorted Lilly Gabriel into the room. As if Beth were another criminal behind bars, who meant nothing.

The idea wasn’t surprising. Lilly’s presence was, however, and a bit of excitement danced down Beth’s spine. There was so much Robinson’s sister didn’t know. Enlightening her would be a highlight to a bleak future.

Not that it would do much good. Not now.

Excitement dodged out of reach. She sat up straighter. Had learned to roll with the punches a long time ago, too.

“Hello, Amanda.”

“Bethany.” She and Lilly sat on the fixed, metal seats. “I assume you know why we’re here.”

“You pick a side, Amanda?” Beth didn’t know if anybody outside of these walls received her letters. They were few. But she’d made them count. Wrote a heck of a lot more than she actually sent.

She’d meant what she’d said about Amanda not visiting. It was as much self-preservation as warning. But now that the other woman was sitting in front of her, she wanted to know more than if her sister would view her death from the family side.

Or the victimized one.

The woman who shared all of her features except eye color shook her head as if she’d been offered a glass of water. Her hair was shorter than ever before. Still shiny and thick. No need for a flat iron. A speck of makeup graced her eyelashes and cheeks.

She’d always been able to pull off the natural look. People would notice her in a paper sack. And she’d befriend almost anyone with little effort. Kick butt with the best of them. Always come out the victor.

All things Beth hadn’t taken into consideration.

“Not worth my time,” Amanda said.

The terse words met their mark. Fortunately, the area was battle ready. Had been for years. “Come on.” As if they were chummy friends, Beth leaned toward them, resting on her cuffed hands. “You don’t want to watch the end? Get a little thrill over justice?”

Lilly moved a fraction, disgust clear in her eyes, but Amanda didn’t. Stared at her as if she’d really like the opportunity to prove she wouldn’t miss her mark with a gun, if necessary.

The prison hadn’t let her bring her Glock inside. Too risky. Even with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb hanging near the edge of the dayroom.

And Dexter beyond the window. Watching her every move with crossed arms. Still expecting something she had no clue how to offer, because she didn’t know what it was. Wasn’t even sure he gave two squats and she hadn’t conjured the whole notion.

The last dregs of a challenging excitement was fading to something darker. Adding to the coiled snake in her stomach. A tug-of-war between knowing what lie beyond a figurative door and choosing to fall into the pit before it.

The one with the swirling tornado reaching toward the missing floorboards. Every round widened the gap.

And if she swept it under the rug, like she’d been taught, it couldn’t hurt her. She’d simply cross the chasm and go on her merry way as if a knight in shining armor had laid his coat across the muddy puddle.

Beth swallowed back a healthy dose of bile. “Heard about Jonas. What’d you do to get him killed, Mandy? You seem to have a knack for that.”

A tick appeared in her jaw, but she didn’t flinch. So typical. Strong. Fearless. The perfect daughter. “I’m not playing your game.”

“Pity, I don’t have one.” Hadn’t expected to see Amanda ever again. Had actually counted on it, which showed how far out of her element she was.

Expecting the unexpected—that was the challenge. “Seems like you’ve made the first move. Bringing Saint Lilly here.” Beth turned to face the woman who had the same dark hair as her brother. Same penetrating eyes. “Enjoy that nap doll-face?”

“As much as you’ll enjoy yours.”

The tornado still raged, promising to claim a little more of Beth’s foothold. “Feisty. Kind of mean, too. I like it. A nice brother-sister duo. One’s charming the other is spit and vinegar. Good cop. Bad cop.”

Lilly’s gaze flicked to Amanda, who shook her head, silent message received. Once upon a time, Beth would have been the one on that side of the table.

But that was a faraway dream. And like tossing a stone into a still body of water, the ripples of time distorted the image.

“Where is our tall, dark and handsome dream man these days? Surely you could keep him satisfied long enough to—”

The packet of papers landed in front of her. Amanda stood. Crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your interest in these girls?”

The coil in her stomach slithered upward. Beth flicked the pages away from her. They fanned across the surface. Young faces filled with hope. Probably dead. Maybe tortured. She blocked the images from her mind.

Didn’t replace them with another.

Under the rug. Couldn’t hurt her.

She pasted a smile on her face and moved her hands under the table. Knew better than to put the unsteady appendages anywhere in Amanda’s line of sight. “As you can tell, I don’t have a lot to do around here. Figured I’d yank some chains. One last hurrah and all that.”

Both Lilly and Amanda watched her. Identical looks of skepticism on their faces. And Dexter was still beyond the glass. His frown as intense as ever. Baker Jackson had appeared at his side, sometime in the last five minutes. He said something to the Chaplin. Shook his head as if Dexter had said or done something only an idiot could manage.

He did work here...

“I’m checking your Internet log, Beth.” Amanda tapped one foot against the concrete floor. “If you’ve been talking to anyone, I’ll know about it.”

A scoff slipped past Beth’s lips. “So they can inject the drugs twice? Not a great deterrent. Hard to do much with ten minutes a week. And access to news sites.”

“Half that time would suffice.”

For Amanda, maybe. Computers weren’t second language to Beth. She’d learned what she needed to know. Was pretty good at faking the rest. Wasn’t interested in a takeover, here.

Or anywhere.

Would Amanda believe she’d stumbled upon the knowledge?

Judging from the severe frown and skepticism plastered over her face, Beth doubted it. “I find it interesting that you know about the information at all. I didn’t send
you
a letter about it.”

Amanda’s lips pressed into a firm line. “No. You sent my
husband
one. Sort of passive aggressive. Just like the letter you actually sent
me.
”

If the other woman only knew of the four page one she’d shredded and flushed down the toilet. The words had been a purging she couldn’t complete with face-to-face confrontation. An uncensored and unmodified letter to everyone and no one. And addressed to the detective.

And if she didn’t examine why, the wound might scab over. It wouldn’t heal, because the damage had been done, but it might resume some semblance of function.

The faces beckoned to her. Dates they’d gone missing and other pertinent information visible. She moved a brunette in front of a blonde. Found a freckled-faced girl with fiery red hair that went before those two.

Scattered the pictures like puzzle pieces. Avoided the bigger details and zeroed in estimated dates of disappearances, birth dates and geography.

Her hand stilled a moment. Amanda would have done this too, so why bother with this visit? The ages caught her eye.

They were all fourteen.

It wasn’t happening again. It wasn’t the same.

Another floorboard whipped from beneath her feet. Not many remained. She could still jump across.

“I’d say having your lawyer oust the information on national TV was a smooth move. The mission to drag the past in the open, again, is working. To some extent.”

What? Her eyes locked with Amanda’s. Beth had never... Her lawyer had asked what she planned to do. And she’d responded instead of keeping her thoughts to herself. Had she actually orchestrated the events, she might find a little satisfaction right about now.

Instead, she went back to the youth in front of her. Placed a few more faces. And then she stumbled over one she knew too well. Brown hair. Brown eyes. The most beautiful smile she’d ever seen.

Her hands stilled. The stomach coil cut off her air. The tornado stole her last foothold. Left her hanging from the edge, her grip slipping.

She shook her head. Couldn’t stop herself from the action. Not Paige.

When every part of her wanted to snatch the picture and hold it to herself, she used her pointer finger to scoot it toward the edge of the table. As if, by avoiding contact, she could forget the smiling face. The sparkling eyes.

Six months. No way she was still alive. No. Way.

Somebody else’s problem.

A sharp prick met the back of her nose and flared to life behind her eyes. “Doesn’t fit.” The words floated around her, in a bare whisper.

She went back to the faces. The ones with hope. Could feel Amanda’s gaze on her as if it were a heat-seeking missile. Good thing everything inside of her was bone-cold.

Amanda sat. “You’re sure?”

Don’t make eye contact. Don’t go there.

She was better off here. Didn’t have to fake her way through. Or contemplate actions she would take to ensure the safety of one little girl, given enough freedom.

___

SHE DIDN’T KNOW.

The thought echoed through Amanda like a scream down a mile-long well. Beth had no idea that Paige was missing. And, although, the ride up had contained a discussion on every scenario about today’s venture, Amanda had prepared for this one the least.

Not the quiet countenance. Nor the dejected forward roll to shoulders hunched over faces they’d likely never find alive. Beth moved one picture behind Denise and in front of Nancy, separating two of three known victims.

They’d talked quite a bit about manipulation. Games. Complete lack of regard. Instead of the burning anger she’d expected to blast through her veins, she felt overwhelming sadness ripple across her skin.

She straightened. It didn’t change what the other woman had done. Was probably still doing, in a different form.