Chained Guilt (Hidden Guilt (Detective Series) Book 1) (15 page)

“You told her to be the best, to work hard!” Hilary exclaimed. “She told me you said that all the time! She was the best . . . so good it got her killed.”

She knew better than to blame anyone, but she was angry and lashing out. I understood. I knew I needed to be the fall guy, and I accepted that burden. I deserved it for failing to protect my wife.

“I’ll help with the funeral arrangements, David,” my father-in-law said. “You have these girls to take care of, so you don’t need to worry about that too.”

We hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but his willingness to help seemed genuine. We’d all lost someone special to us. I figured we could put our differences aside, at least for now.

This was a tragedy for our family. A good person had died doing the right thing— exposing a crooked politician, a criminal. She had paid the ultimate price for it. The lives of two young children, now motherless, had been forever changed. For them, this would not simply be a fork in the road to deal with; this was an ocean to cross. I just hoped I would have the right words to say or know the right things to do when they needed me.

I would have new responsibilities as well. I didn’t know if I could handle both roles, being both mother and father to my girls. Hilary had placed the blame for this squarely on my shoulders, and this certainly wouldn’t help our already strained relationship.

I pictured Miranda in my head. I missed her deeply—her laugh, her sense of humor, her beauty. The kind words she always had when I needed them. The kick in the butt when I needed one, too.  The unconditional love she had shown me, in spite of my shortcomings. The mother she was to my children. All gone forever.

23

I dressed slowly. The memorial service for Miranda was scheduled for eleven a.m. It was already ten. Maybe if I took my time and waited long enough, I would wake up and this horrible nightmare would end. I knew it wouldn’t happen, but I played mind games with myself. My heart felt heavy, my breath unsteady, and my hands trembled. I knew I had to hold it together for my kids, but choking back the emotions surging through me was extremely difficult.

After I finished dressing, I looked in on Hilary, already dressed and back on her bed, head down, listening to music. I peeked in on Karen and found her lying on the floor writing in her journal.  I sat down beside her and glanced over her shoulder, my hand on her back, offering wordless comfort.

Dear mommy,

I wantid to wayt until I new for sure – but now I am sure daddy says that u are gone. I wish you wood not have left me. I am going to miss you so much. We are having ur fuunerule tuday – I will give u sum flowers. I now u like those red ones. Hilary is mad at daddy – im not tho I don’t think it was his fallt. It was the bad man u were doing the story on. I hope he goes to jail daddy said he wood. Pleeze watch over me and Hilary and daddy and keep us safe. I will  right to u everee day. I hope u right back. Pleeze pray for Hilary she needs to be nicer to daddy I know he luved u and he misses u. I thing granne is mad at him two so pleeze pray for her two. U r the best mommy a girl culd ever have had. Pleeze help daddy lern how to cook we will need to be abil to eat. I don’t want a new mommy ether. I will always think about u and dreem about u everee nite.Luv Karen.

**

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and looked up to find my mother standing in the doorway. She wore a black dress, and her makeup did little to mask her red, swollen eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Good morning, son. How are you holding up?”

“About as well as possible with what we have to do today, I imagine.”

              “The girls ready?” She held out her arms, and Karen went to her, tears flowing anew. “Where’s Hilary?”

“In her room. We’re all moving pretty slow this morning.”

I scrambled to my feet and brushed the wrinkles from my pants.

“The limo will be here in about five minutes,” my mother said.

I stopped by Hilary’s room to get her, and in a matter of moments, we all stood downstairs, silent.

The limo arrived and we stepped outside. It was a beautiful day; the weather was perfect. The contrast between the beauty of the day and the fact that I was soon to bid my wife farewell hit me hard. How could such an awful day be so beautiful? If Miranda was alive, we’d probably go biking with the girls or take a hike together, enjoying each other’s company.

I had already asked the preacher to keep the service short and sweet. This would be hard enough on me and the girls as it was. No need to drag it out.

I looked around the church and saw many familiar faces.  Miranda’s coworkers from the station had shown up, as had a large contingent from the police department. They wore their dress blues and stood in a long row at the back of the church. As my gaze passed over the mourners, my heart gave a jolt. There, in the far back corner, I made out the almost totally shielded face of Carter’s wife. She wore a floppy hat and sunglasses, but I recognized her. My heart froze, though I applauded her bravery for showing up. The few choice words I had for her would have to wait.

We sat in the front pew of the church our family had attended for years. As the organist played “Amazing Grace,” people walked by, shaking my hand, patting the girls on the head, and murmuring words of condolence. I tried to understand how I had gotten here. My family was in shambles, my wife gone. It was surreal, and it had all happened so quickly. This wasn’t the vision I had for my life.

I stopped feeling sorry for myself for a moment and realized it was not the way Miranda had planned it either. All she wanted was to be a good mother and wife. She’d wanted to be a good reporter, too. She’d been ambitious. It had cost her—and us—dearly.

The service began, but it seemed a blur to me. While the preacher spoke, photos of Miranda scrolled on a projection screen behind him. I had gone through all the steps of grieving once. I was now back to the point of being angry. I was angry with God for allowing this to happen. I was angry at myself, angry at Carter and his men, and on some level, even angry at Miranda for doing this investigation. Why couldn’t it have been me? I remembered having the conversation with Miranda the day she disappeared, when I wondered how I’d gotten so lucky. Now it seemed my luck had run out.

After the ceremony, I played the role of a good host and reminded the friends and family in attendance that food would be served and everyone was welcome. I faked it well. My mother had finally convinced me I needed to eat.

It had been nearly a week since the night of Miranda’s murder. I had lost a lot of weight and knew I looked frail and sickly. I would be no good to anyone if I allowed myself to fall apart. Still, as I went through the serving line, nothing looked good to me. I forced myself to put a few things on my plate and moved to the table where my daughters were nibbling on fried chicken legs. I sat down and stared at my plate.

“Dad, you gotta eat something,” Karen said.

“Normally I’m fussing at you about eating,” I said, forcing a smile.

As we picked at our food, I noticed a short-haired blonde woman about my age walking our way. She had full, pouty lips, almond-shaped eyes, and delicate features. I couldn’t help but notice her well-toned arms and shapely legs. I tried not to pay attention to the fact that the woman was gorgeous, considering I had just endured my wife’s memorial service. Her choice of clothing didn’t help. A skin-tight, low-cut black dress showed off her ample breasts and every curve, which may have been her goal. I’d seen her type before.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Hilary looked at the woman and rolled her eyes as she approached the table. Hilary muttered something, but I only caught the word
slut
.

“Excuse me,” the woman said. “You probably don’t know me, but I went to school with Miranda.” She held out her hand. “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Do you mind if I sit down?”

I gave her hand a polite shake and glanced at Hilary and Karen.  “No, go right ahead. Have we met before?”

“Miranda actually called me a few weeks ago, and we caught up a little,” she said. “She told me she had a wonderful husband and two beautiful girls. But no, we never met.”

“Hilary and Karen, right?” She extended a hand to each of them as she introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Stacy. Stacy Demornay.”

Hilary faked a smile, but I caught the roll of her eyes again. I’m sure Stacy also noticed, but she graciously ignored it. 

“She left out the part about her husband being so handsome, though,” Stacy said, flashing a mouthful of perfect, cosmetically whitened teeth at me.

I didn’t respond and quickly changed the subject.

“So how did you know Miranda again?”              “Can I be excused?” Hilary rudely interrupted.

“Sure Hilary.” I nodded. “Don’t stray too far.”

“College. We went to school together,” Stacy said as Hilary gave her one more piercing glare and stomped away in a huff. “I just graduated from nursing school. I’ll be working at the new hospital in town.”

I began to feel a little uneasy, so I also excused myself from the table, making the excuse that Karen needed to see her grandmother. Stacy merely nodded, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. The woman had made herself a little too comfortable with me. Real over-the-top flirty. In another setting it might have been okay, but not here and not now.

“Well, it was nice meeting you . . .” 

I paused as I rose, momentarily forgetting her name.

“Stacy.”

“Stacy. That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me; I’m terrible with names.”

Remembering details was my job, remembering names was second nature. Maybe this would let her know just how uninterested I was.

“No problem. I understand. You’ve been through a lot the last few days. I understand—firsthand, actually. I lost a longtime boyfriend last year. He died in a motorcycle wreck. It’s hard to let go. I’ll leave you my number. Perhaps we can talk again soon. Feel free to call if you need something. Is that okay with you?”

I hesitated.

“Sure.” I had to be polite but had no intention of calling her. “Thanks again for coming by, and I’m sorry about your loss, too.”

Stacy handed me a card with her number on it. I slipped it into my coat pocket as I walked away. 

She seemed like a nice enough lady. I could see how she and Miranda had been friends. As I walked away from the table, I saw Jill Carter heading my way. I knew trouble was brewing when Miranda’s mother leapt from her chair and stalked toward her.

“What are you doing here?” Grace demanded.

“I’ve come to offer my condolences,” Jill said.

“Well, you can keep your damn condolences!”

I placed my hand on my mother-in-law’s back. The anguish on her face stunned me. 

“Please,” I said, urging her to return to her husband. “Now’s not the time.”

“David, can I talk to you for a moment in private?” Jill asked.

I hesitated and then whispered to Miranda’s mother, “It’s okay. Let me talk to her.”

Jill and I walked to a room down the hall from the main room.

“Look, I don’t know why I came here,” she said in a rush. “I’m just so sorry about what happened, and I feel guilty, in a way. I’ve heard most of the story. Enough to know John was no doubt the catalyst here, and I’m sorry. We may not have the same background or friends, but none of that matters. What he did was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for him. I’m sorry for what your family is going through.  I love John and I always will, but what he did to you and your family was wrong.”

I said nothing for several moments. “It took a lot of guts for you to show up here. I’m sorry for what I did a few days ago as well. I was angry, and I wanted to get even. I should have remembered my roots, though. Vengeance is for the Lord.”

“No need for you to apologize. I can imagine how much pain you and yours girls are in. I know you probably think I’m a rich, spoiled little bitch, but I don’t condone what my husband did. Maybe one day you’ll be able to forgive him.”

“You coming here showed me a lot more about your character than I would have given you credit for. And honestly, on different levels, we’ve both lost a spouse. He took mine and I took yours.” 

Jill turned to leave. “You take care of those girls. They will need you more than ever now.”

After she left, I looked around for Hilary.

People continued to stop me to offer their condolences as they left. I felt a calming sense that everything would eventually be okay. It would be a long process, but it would be okay.

I finally spotted her near the doors that led outside. She stood in the corner, gazing out the window.  She heard me as I approached and turned around.

“There were times when I was so mean to her,” she said, her voice soft and filled with pain. Tears pooled in her eyes. “All she ever did was try to love me and help me grow up. Even the day she died, when she dropped us off at school, it’s like I was always trying to one-up her, to prove her wrong, make her mad.”