Someone Must Die (3 page)

C
HAPTER
4

A stale smell hit Aubrey when she pushed open the door to her upstairs bedroom. She hadn’t been home since Thanksgiving a couple of months before, but at least her room was as she had left it. The delft-blue wallpaper was still peeling away at the seams, still covered by the dozen or so oil paintings of fruit, vases, and favorite objects she had made when she was a teenager. She threw her coat on the white quilted bedspread and set her suitcase on the old footstool, then went to open one of the windows. Her room faced the front of the house, and as soon as she got the window open, reporters shouted up at her.

“Has Ethan been found? Is there a ransom demand?”

She slammed the window shut, then paced on the faded, blue-and-beige Oriental rug, reminding herself it wasn’t the reporters’ fault Ethan was missing.

Her breathing slowed as her eyes settled on familiar, much-loved mementos—her snow globes on the shelf above her desk, and the photo on the wicker nightstand she hadn’t been able to part with, even after Mama had put away all the other photos of Aubrey’s dad.

It was what Aubrey classified in her memory as a “before” photo of the four of them.
Before
Mama had begun working late most nights and Dad started traveling all the time.
Before
something had changed her parents’ relationship, which Aubrey had never understood and was afraid to ask about. The photo had been taken twenty years ago, when Aubrey was eight and Kevin was eleven. They were standing on top of a mountain somewhere in Colorado. She and Kevin were smiling at the camera, but the reason Aubrey had kept the photo was because of the way her parents were looking at each other. Not in the polite-but-distant way she’d become accustomed to, but as though they were remembering the first time they’d fallen in love. Aubrey had always wanted to believe this was how they’d really felt about each other.

Even now—or maybe especially now, after her disappointing experience with Jackson—she still did.

How she wished her family could be together to support one another while they waited for news about Ethan! But Mama was unavailable, Dad probably hadn’t arrived yet from Los Angeles, and Kevin was with Kim and her parents. But Aubrey was Kevin’s family, too, and despite his angry words about their mother, she was certain he would want the comfort of the people who loved him unconditionally.

She got her phone out and speed-dialed his number, taken aback when a strange man’s voice answered.

“I want to speak with Kevin,” she said. “This is his sister.”

“Mr. Lynd isn’t taking calls right now.”

“Would you please tell him it’s Aubrey?”

“I’m sorry. He’s not taking any calls.”

“Who are you?” Aubrey asked.

“I’ve been hired by the family,” the man said.

The family,
she wanted to scream.
I’m his family.

“I’ll tell Mr. Lynd you called. I’m sure he’ll return your call when he’s able.” He disconnected.

What the heck was that about? What if someone called with a ransom demand? Would they talk to a stranger? Or maybe the caller wouldn’t know it wasn’t Kevin answering his phone.

She sent her brother a text, not sure he would see it, but she had to try.
I’m at the house. Can come see you anytime. Just say when.

She hesitated. Should she say she was here for him? That she loved him? But it would sound false after the distance between them for so many years. She pressed “Send,” hoping he would write back or call.

Hoping his silence didn’t mean the war with Mama was back on.

She stuck her phone in her pocket, then went across the hall to her mother’s room. It was cool in the large corner bedroom, which was shaded by towering bamboos that blocked the sun from this part of the house. The bed was made, throw pillows piled up against the brass headboard, no indentation on the old patchwork quilt. She ran her hand over the satin squares in crimson, emerald green, and navy blue. It didn’t look like her mother had slept, or even lain down for a rest.

Two faded-pink brocade armchairs were pulled close to the fireplace; a small table with a book on it stood between them. Now that she lived up north, she realized how odd it was to have fireplaces in Miami.

When she was little, she had longed for a fire, like in the Hans Christian Andersen stories she read, but her parents had never made one. So one winter when she was eight or nine, she’d talked Kevin into helping her gather wood. They’d filled the hearth with twigs and dead leaves, threw in some wadded-up toilet paper, then lit the mess with matches. It flamed and smoked, and Mama had coming running into the room, shouting hysterically. Aubrey had never seen her so upset. Mama had doused the fire with water, and had then climbed into bed beneath the patchwork quilt, suffering from one of her dizzy spells.

After that, with the smell of burned leaves lingering in the upstairs hallway, Aubrey and Kev had tried to follow the rules and be exemplary children. They only had themselves to rely on and became each other’s best friends and confidants. Aubrey missed that so much . . . Kev’s whispered dreams about reclaiming the Lonely Mountain, like Bilbo Baggins in
The Hobbit.
Promising her someday they’d be a real family again.

Well, maybe they could be, once they got Ethan back. One thing was for certain—she wasn’t giving up on their family, even if Kevin had.

She went downstairs toward the dissonance of multiple voices talking at the same time. The family room had been transformed, crammed with folding tables and people talking on cell phones and tapping on computers. These strangers didn’t belong here, surrounded by photos of her and her brother in front of their bunks at summer camp, hiking in the Rockies, throwing snowballs in Breckenridge. But Ethan wasn’t supposed to be missing, either.

Neither Detective Gonzalez nor Special Agent Smolleck was in the room, so she went over to a youngish Asian man in a suit who was frowning at several computer screens.

He sat taller in his chair when he noticed her. “You’re not allowed in here.”

“I’m Aubrey Lynd. I’m looking for my mother, Diana Lynd. Do you know where she is?”

“Sorry. No.”

She left the family room and pushed open a French door that led to the backyard. The mildewed-brick patio was shaded by so many trees—crepe myrtle, gumbo limbos, palms, and soaring bamboos—that the sun could hardly break through, and the little areas of grass around the rock garden were perennially thin. Unlike the inside of the house, transformed by all the people who didn’t belong, out here nothing had changed. Still the same impossible-to-lift wrought iron chairs and filigreed table with a hole for an umbrella that Mama had never got around to buying.

Aubrey followed the brick path that meandered around the side of the house. This was the one area that was sunny, where the grass grew so fast it always looked like it needed mowing.

When they were kids, Aubrey and Kevin had begged their parents to put in a swimming pool. Dad had finally agreed, but Mama had dug in her heels. She’d said she had enough to worry about with her sick patients, without imagining her own children diving in and breaking their necks.

Mama was always waiting for a catastrophe to happen.

It finally had.

A couple of lawn chairs faced a small fountain near the tall hedge that separated their property from the neighbor’s. Someone was stretched out on one of the chairs. Soft-brown leather loafers, pressed navy slacks, pale-blue shirt.

Dad.

For a moment she was a child again, remembering the joy she’d felt when her father would return home from an out-of-town trial and sweep her up in the air.

How’s my beautiful princess?

She had adored him. Then he’d let her down.

He must have heard her coming, because he put his feet in the grass and turned toward her. “Aubrey.”

His expression brightened, then his mouth fell, as though he’d remembered the circumstances. His full head of hair looked whiter than ever against his red face, but his blue eyes were the same—clear and concerned. Eyes that were known to sway the toughest juries.

And, once upon a time, even her.

He came toward her with outstretched arms, then hugged her tightly. Her mind told her to resist, but her body didn’t listen, and she felt herself swaddled in his embrace. She clung to him, closing her eyes and taking in the familiar, fusty airplane smell of her childhood. He stroked her hair, and the sensation made her feel sleepy, just like when she was a little girl.

She wished they could go back to how they once were, but then he loosened his grip.

She took a step back.

She hadn’t seen her father in more than a year, at a party for Ethan. He had a few extra wrinkles, but he was a handsome man, even at sixty-five. Kevin had inherited his lean, fit build, though both Aubrey and her brother more closely resembled their mother, with her dark hair and eyes and often-solemn disposition.

“I’m surprised to see you,” she said.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be here for my grandson and family?” His voice reflected hurt.

She backed off, ashamed to have implied that he didn’t care about Ethan. “No, of course not. I didn’t think you could get here so quickly from LA.”

“I would have bought a plane to get here, if I’d had to.”

She believed that. Even though he’d traveled a lot, her father had always put family first, which was one reason why it had been so bewildering to see him turn on her mother so heartlessly eight years ago.

“Have you spoken to Mama?” she asked.

“No. She’s been busy with the police and FBI. I didn’t want to get in the way.” He clasped her hand. “It’s been a long time. Too long.”

“Yes,” she said, feeling the firmness of his grip.

“I’m in shock over this,” he said. “I could barely put one foot in front of the other. But Star’s been my savior. Made all the arrangements to get here.”

Aubrey pulled her hand away. She couldn’t stomach the way her father seemed to worship the woman for whom he’d abandoned his wife.

He and Jackson were the same. Both of them oblivious to the pain they’d caused by succumbing to their self-centered needs.

“I wish you wouldn’t resent her,” her father said. “Star flew over with me. She’s just as worried about Ethan as we are.”

Aubrey felt a visceral loathing. It came on every time Star’s name was mentioned, bringing up a memory of the first time they’d met.

Aubrey had been in her father’s apartment, taking in the view of downtown LA, when she’d realized she wasn’t alone. She had turned to see a ghostlike person in a darkened alcove of the room. Aubrey registered pale skin, flowing white scarves, and a perfectly shaped head with light hair so short it appeared naked. The apparition all but faded away—except for the bright, glassy-blue eyes studying her.

Then Star had stepped forward, arms extended, a smile pasted on her face.
Hello, dear,
she’d said, her words oozing like poisoned honey from an oleander flower.
I would so like us to be friends.

“Please, Aubrey,” her father was saying, “we need to stick together right now. For Ethan’s sake.”

“You’re right,” she said, erasing the vision of Star. She had to try to put old grievances aside and stand by both her parents. She knew how difficult Ethan’s disappearance had to be for her father, too. He doted on his grandson, always sending Aubrey photos of Ethan’s frequent visits to LA.

“I can’t wrap my mind around it,” he said. “Our little man.” His voice quivered, and he ran his fingers through his hair. There was a dark perspiration stain under his arm on his light-blue button-down shirt.

“Do you want to go inside and get some water?” she asked.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” The sun glinted off his white hair as he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.

There was a spot he’d missed while shaving, near the cleft of his chin.

She remembered how immaculate he’d always been when he would leave to consult with one of the Innocence Projects he was involved with, looking like a movie star in his dark suit and white shirt, carrying the monogrammed cordovan briefcase Mama had gotten him.

She had been so proud of her father in his mission to save the innocent from death row. But at the same time, she was despondent about his leaving—sometimes for weeks at a time.

“Why don’t we sit?” She led him back to the lounge chairs. He looked older, suddenly. Old and tired.

“Have you seen Kevin?” she asked.

He shook his head. “They’d already left for their hotel by the time I arrived.” He put the handkerchief back in his pocket. “But I spoke to the FBI agent in charge. Special Agent Smolleck. I’m glad they’ve been brought in so early.”

“Yes. Me, too.” She didn’t share her negative impression of the FBI agent with him. Maybe Smolleck’s arrogance would be a good thing in getting Ethan back quickly.

“Smolleck told me they’ve set up a couple of phone lines for tips,” her father said. “They’ve got some geek coordinating with the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, to get the word out on Facebook and other social media.”

“I’m glad you were able to get him to fill you in,” she said.

“Well, it wasn’t easy. He was more interested in asking me questions, but I’ve always had a knack for getting people to talk to me. At least most people.” He searched her eyes. “I’ve missed you, Princess.” It had been his nickname for her. His Sleeping Beauty princess, though she had never understood why he called her that. Now it occurred to her that he had always known she was closing her eyes to what was around her. “I’ve missed you and me.”

She looked away. He was tugging on her heart, the way he always did, but she was wary of being taken in by his charm once again. “What else did he tell you?” she asked.

Her father let out a soft sigh. “Well, the good news is that the FBI moves very quickly in these situations. They’re evaluating all contingencies, though I’m not sure I necessarily agree with the direction they’re going. They’ve given the immediate family polygraphs.”

Aubrey wondered if that’s where her mother was—taking a lie detector test. “No one in the family would have taken Ethan,” she said.