Sister Dear (20 page)

Emma rushed to Caroline, one arm circling her shoulders, her hand stroking her cheek and wiping away tears. As Caroline's sobs slowed, Emma heard footsteps. She looked up to see her sister standing by the front door. She was leaving.
Thank God.

“I am innocent, no matter what anyone says about that night,” Allie said, her voice husky, as if she'd inhaled smoke from a wildfire.

Caroline jerked her head up, wiping her tears on her sleeve. She sucked air in gulps, her chest rising and falling. Emma started to soothe her, patting and rubbing her back, but her niece pulled away. Caroline studied her mother, unblinking. She seemed shocked at first, then perplexed, as if it were necessary to consider the statement.

“I am. I'm innocent,” Allie repeated, standing still, unwavering.

Caroline drew herself up and lifted her chin. “Then prove it.”

TWENTY-SIX

EMMA

2016

Allie left without saying good-bye. The editorial had disappeared along with her. Emma didn't really care, though it wasn't going to do her sister any good destroying one copy when a thousand were floating around Brunswick.

Emma didn't hurry closing up the house, locking the doors, and shutting off lights. She knew that Caroline was still awake. Every so often she heard her moving. She would check on her in a little while, reassure her that everything would be all right. For now, allowing the evening's drama to settle was best.

It took effort to guide Caroline in the right direction without pushing her too hard. So many decisions. All of the worry. But the sacrifices were necessary. Caroline needed Emma's protection.

Fortunately, tonight her sister had come to the house willingly; she trusted her, no doubt hoping that Emma would help pave the way for a peaceful, civilized reunion.

And as predicted, Caroline's bottled-up outrage and anger spewed into the open within seconds of seeing her mother. Caroline channeled all of the blame and hurt she'd stored and hurled it at
Allie like a grenade. Ten years of worry and wondering had taken a heavy toll.

Emma placed both hands on the counter, took a deep breath, and glanced at the clock. She needed to talk with Caroline, make sure she was holding up as best as she could.

There was one thing gnawing at the back of Emma's mind. Caroline, surprisingly, didn't entirely dismiss Allie. Emma had wanted Caroline to stand up and shout, scream at her mother for being a liar and a fake, and accuse her of awful things.

But she hadn't.

Somehow, a sliver of doubt about Allie's guilt had pierced Caroline's heart.

Prove it.

The words didn't come with a dose of hatred or disdain. In fact, the opposite seemed true. Had she imagined it, or had Caroline really inched away from her? Nudged her away, moved apart, while she listened to Allie plead for mercy?

Caroline had been surprised, or shocked, and had involuntarily twitched as a response. There could be no other explanation. Emma would have to double her efforts to widen the divide between them. Prove to Caroline what a terrible choice it would be to believe in Allie, even for a moment.

With a soft knock on the bedroom door, Emma peeked inside Caroline's room.

“I wanted to say good night.”

Emma made out the outline of a shape in the dim light. When her eyes adjusted, she saw Caroline's face. Anxious, a little terrified, confused. Emma made her way over to the bed and knelt down. “Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry. I know you're hurting.”

Caroline shook her head.

“Can I talk to you about it? Just a little?”

Another nod.

“Whoever put up copies of that article—that editorial—was cruel. It was hurtful and deliberate. There's no reason for anyone to bring up the past. It's done.” Emma sighed. “Just so you know, I'm going to call the principal and the superintendent and get to the bottom of this mess.”

“All right,” Caroline murmured.

“And since someone shoved this back into our lives, at the very least I can tell you what I know about it, okay?”

Caroline's shoulders tensed, like she wasn't sure she wanted to know any more. Finally, she nodded.

“So, one thing you have to understand about Allie is that she has always been very driven. She's never been shy about sharing her opinion,” Emma said. “It got her into trouble with teachers when she'd try to correct them, and it upset Grandma, because she doesn't like any type of controversy. But Allie would get an idea into her head sometimes, and she wouldn't let it go.”

“So what made her write it?”

Emma shifted her eyes. “There was this really talented player, a big guy who wasn't getting along very well with his teammates.”

Wide-eyed, Caroline tucked the pillow closer.

“So, during one of the games, near the end of the season, this same kid punched the other team's quarterback—a cheap shot, no question. Really hurt the guy; took him out of the game. The referees gave our guy a penalty, of course. Everyone was talking about it.”

Her niece sat up straight, eager to hear the story. “And then what?”

Emma hesitated. She had Caroline's full attention, but she had to tread carefully and choose her words wisely. She wouldn't criticize Allie, not outright. She would be the better sister. The wiser, more caring sister. And from now on, she would make sure to say
Allie's name instead of “your mother.” So Caroline would think of her that way too.

“Somehow, Allie decided it was Coach Thomas's responsibility. She said the coach needed to watch out for the players better, teach them right from wrong. If they were out of control, he had to stop them.”

“So that's when she wrote that article for the newspaper?”

“Yes. She did a little investigation work. Talked to some players,” Emma said. “Her boyfriend at the time had a brother who was playing for the team. I think it must have been him she talked to. One week after practice he showed up to school with cracked ribs and bruises.”

Caroline bit her lip. “The article said she saw something happen.”

“I don't know. Maybe she did. Maybe she didn't,” Emma said. “It's her word against his.”

“What do you think?”

Emma ran her hand along her leg, deciding how to answer. “I didn't agree with what Allie wrote. I didn't
think
he would do those things.”

“But if she did see something, that must have made my mom pretty mad.” Caroline frowned.

“Yes, it did. Grandpa Paul and Grandma Lily were really upset at Allie. Everyone was upset. She'd made such poor choices. Embarrassed the family.” Emma lowered her voice. Here was an opportunity to drive home her point. “Allie proved that she wasn't exactly the golden girl that everyone believed her to be. It broke all of our hearts.” She sat back and looked at her niece, who'd cast her eyes down at the fingers that lay laced in her lap. “About two weeks after that, the coach was murdered and your mom got arrested.”

Caroline rolled over on her stomach, hugged the pillow under her chin. “Did you know him? Coach Thomas?”

“I did.” Emma felt her voice catch. Inside, she was dying, recalling it. She smiled brightly to cover it up. “Everyone liked him. His family owned a pharmacy in town. He was very nice to me. One time when you were sick, he made sure I had the right medicine for you. And he asked about you, remembered your name. I thought he was very caring.”

“Wow. I guess so,” Caroline said, widening her eyes.

Emma reached over and squeezed her hand.

“She did it, though, didn't she?” Caroline's voice was muffled.

After a pause, Emma lowered her voice. “I think there's a lot we don't know about that night. But when the court was presented with all the facts and witnesses . . . well, they agreed that Allie was guilty.”

When Caroline didn't respond, Emma stood up and pushed the chair back under the desk. She had made her point about Allie, planting key questions without insisting she had murdered anyone.

“Emma?” Caroline said.

“What is it, honey?” She leaned on the chair and smiled down at her niece.

“Um, something bad happened to Maddie today. Like, really awful.”

Though she kept her face awash with concern, a shiver of delight coursed through Emma's body. “What happened?”

Flipping on her side, Caroline hugged her pillow. “There's a bad picture going around of her. On SnapdIt.”

“What's SnapdIt?” Emma asked, playing innocent. Caroline, at fifteen, didn't realize the extent of her aunt's tech skills. Emma wasn't simply a web design geek. In her spare time, she honed her knowledge of computer hacking and breaking down cyber security measures.

“A phone app. You share pictures and stuff. Messages,” Caroline
said. She ducked her head. “Someone sent out this photo of Maddie. Without . . . without many clothes on.”

Emma forced her jaw to drop open. “Oh no.”

Caroline flushed. “Maddie left school right after someone sent it out. One of the sheriff's deputies came to the school. I don't know what else happened.”

“They'll take it down, sweetheart. They'll get to the bottom of it.” Emma reached down and patted Caroline's hand.

“Okay.” Caroline frowned and stared off into space. “I still feel . . . well, really bad for her. She doesn't deserve it.” Her niece's eyes filled with tears.

“Even though she's been so awful to you, you're still worried about Maddie?” Emma said, raising her brow. “I know you care about her. I know you'd like to still be friends, but if she really posed for a photo like that . . .”

“I know,” Caroline whispered, wiping at her cheeks.

“Just be careful, honey. Sometimes people get what they deserve.” Emma allowed the words to hang in the space between them. She wanted Caroline to think about that. Digest it and remember it.

Her niece winced and frowned.

“Oh. Shoot. And there's something else,” Emma added, trying to inject an air of nonchalance. “I was going to tell you earlier, but . . .”

“What is it?” Caroline tilted her head back to face Emma.

“Allie got a job,” Emma said. “With the vet who bought Grandpa Paul's office.”

Caroline sat straight up. “What? Why?”

Emma shrugged. “It was news to me too.”

“W-won't people stop going there?”

“Well, they'll either leave or stay. Simple as that. Grandma and Grandpa know. I called them earlier. They were just as surprised.”

Caroline rubbed her forehead and sniffed.

Emma tipped her head to see her niece's face. “What is it?”

Tears began dripping down Caroline's cheeks again. “I know what this means,” she said, her voice small.

Emma put a soft hand on Caroline's back and bent down to listen.

“It means she's not leaving.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

SHERIFF GAINES

2016

Like an airborne virus or poison, rumors in Brunswick floated through town easily, spreading their way across the school, every store and business, eventually making it inside the sheriff's office.

Gaines had already spent the majority of yesterday afternoon out of the office, dealing with the aftermath of the Maddie Anderson debacle—he'd have the state and feds to deal with for quite some time as they investigated the child pornography angle. The school officials were outraged; the media was calling nonstop. Her parents were understandably hysterical, and the girl was out of school, and rightly so, with a therapist this morning.

The sheriff reached for his coffee, now cold, when one of his deputies brought in a copy of a bright red flyer. “Boss, hate to do this to you, on top of the Anderson case. My daughter brought this home last night after cheerleading practice,” he explained as he handed over the sheet. “These were sent in text messages to a lot of the students and papered all over the school.”

After a glance down the page, Gaines wanted to smash his fist through the wall. This was getting out of hand. It was one thing
to stick a For Sale sign in her yard just to scare the girl away. But someone was determined to fuel the fire about Allison Marshall, get her to ask questions, think harder, and dig around in the past. The sheriff, white-knuckled, gripped his desk. Those secrets needed to stay buried.

He dismissed the deputy with a curt nod, simmering about his next move. After letting his blood pressure cool, he called the assistant principal of Mansfield Academy, who confirmed the story. “We're doing what we can to quash this mess,” she said. “So far, no one's come forward and admitted to distributing them.”

And no one would, Gaines thought as he slammed the phone back on the receiver. Kids were smarter than that, and tricky. They lied right to your face. Then again, so did adults. After decades in his career, Gaines didn't know which was harder to accept.

Gaines got up from behind his desk and closed his office door. The blare of the scanner and the constant churn of noise from dispatch had given him a vicious headache. Most of the time he channeled the power and prestige of his job, soaking it up like rays of the sun on the Georgia coastline. But on days like this, Gaines felt like an overpaid babysitter, chasing after toddlers who didn't want to go to bed on time. It was human nature, though, which he had to admit kept his office busy and his staff employed. Of course, if everyone behaved, he might as well retire.

He sat back down, eased into his chair, opened the piece of paper, and reread the editorial. The day it came out in the newspaper, a decade ago, there was so much uproar a person from outside would have thought the city council had decided to begin public hangings in the downtown square.

When he finally talked to the person who should have been most upset and affected by the article, he remembered what struck
him most was that person's remarkable indifference. It had been years ago, yet he still remembered every detail with acute clarity.