There Should Have Been Eight, page 33
I went to say no, but realized I was cold on the inside. “Hot chocolate if the machine has it.”
“Coming right up.”
He waited until both drinks were ready, then carried over the disposable white cups. “Here you go, milady.” As he sank down into the seat next to me with a groan, his blazer opening around him and his thighs pushing up against his jeans, I saw one of the night-shift nurses shoot him a “come ask for my number” smile.
His returning smile reminded me of Kaea. Not because they looked in any way similar. No, it was that charm. Paired with a wickedness that was playful rather than cruel. Kaea had never been cruel and I knew with certainty that Bea had long ago forgiven any teenage grudge she’d held against him.
Grace, however, saw only in black and white.
A loyal friend who would do anything for you. But who had no concept of degrees when it came to what she considered a crime.
I cupped my hands around the warmth of the hot chocolate, the steam bathing my face.
Leaning against the chairback and kicking out his feet, Ratene said, “You mind if I ask you a few more questions?”
“Ask as many as you want. I want the truth of what Darcie did to Bea on the record.”
“The woman you know as Grace,” he said, “she say anything to you about Judge Landis Beale?”
I’d had time, had thought this through. “No. Who is she?”
“He,” Ratene corrected. “He’s the judge who signed the papers that gave Darcie guardianship over her sister.”
“You’ve already tracked down the records?”
“It wasn’t hard with the details Grace gave us.” His eyes narrowed, and suddenly he wasn’t the good-looking man the others in the vicinity were fawning over—he was a hard-eyed cop. “Legal sleight of hand to strip a woman of her life.”
“Grace didn’t mention him. But I think Darcie maybe mentioned an Uncle Beale once.” I frowned. “At her wedding possibly.” My words were insurance against being found on the same guest list; it was unlikely Ratene would make anything of that, but I didn’t want him to have even a tiny reason to question my veracity when it came to what I knew about the judge. “I didn’t pay too much attention—it was a chance to catch up with my friends, and we mostly hung out together.”
“The judge was a friend of the Shepherd family,” Ratene confirmed. “My sources tell me he’s now gotten wind of Grace’s arrest and he’s saying she targeted him, that she’s the one who loaded up his computer with hundreds of frankly sick and very illegal images.”
I snorted. “Sounds like he’s clutching at straws. Grace is smart, don’t get me wrong, but she’d have to be a hacker genius to get into a judge’s computer.”
The trick is to commit.
Ratene’s eyes bored into the side of my skull, but I’d prepared for this. The tiredness helped. I just zoned out, my expression a blank stare at the facing wall.
“He probably is,” he said at last. “Technical experts say his digital fingerprints are all over the laptop. Plus, he has no photos or other evidence to prove he ever met Grace. Texts and calls went to a prepaid phone that’s now dead, and the number is listed in his phone directory as ‘Bianca.’ ”
Clever, clever Grace.
“His defense can still try to bring Grace up at trial, but prosecutor says the fact she’s so unstable will make that a useless argument. Plus, he’d just be calling attention to his lack of ethics in not recusing himself from the application to do with Beatrice Shepherd.”
Not a good look if Judge Landis Beale wanted the jury to see him as an upstanding citizen who’d never think of looking at such vile material as had been found on his computer.
“What does Grace say?” Because she would’ve said something; she was too clever to simply deny that Beale had been on her hit list.
“Says she planned to poison him, but couldn’t figure out how to get close enough to do it. Then she heard about his arrest and decided to leave him to fester in the mess he created for himself. No need to murder him when he’ll get brutalized in jail.”
I smiled within.
“What about Dr. Cox?” Ratene continued. “She mention him?”
I nodded. “She murdered him. Promised him a blow job, but suffocated him and sent his car off a cliff.”
“You don’t sound disturbed by that.”
“I feel numb. Doctors say I’m suffering from shock. If I am, I don’t want out of it.”
Ratene was quiet for a beat. “Yeah, I can’t blame you on that, Luna.” Several beats later. “There was money involved with the doctor, by the way. Shouldn’t be telling you, but what the hell. Darceline Shepherd gave Cox an extremely generous gift eighteen months after Beatrice was committed.”
“Patience.”
“Yes. But for Cox to wait that long, it wasn’t only about the money.”
No, it had been about Darcie’s ability to manipulate and mold people into doing exactly as she wished. “It can’t just have been the judge and the doctor involved,” I said. “Surely others must’ve questioned why Beatrice was in the facility?”
“We’ve just begun digging there.” He shot me an assessing look, then gave a short nod, as if coming to a decision. “Did you have any idea they stood to inherit two million dollars each when they turned twenty-five?”
My mouth fell open.
“That’s what I thought.” He finished off his coffee with a grimace.
“Where did that money come from?” The Shepherds hadn’t been poor in the least, but they hadn’t had millions lying around, either. At least that explained how Darcie had been able to easily pay the private hospital fees year after year.
“Life insurance,” Ratene said. “Parents’ wills were structured in a way that meant that should a payout ever occur, it’d go into a trust until Darceline and Beatrice were of a certain age. To be released early only if the rest of the estate wasn’t enough to support their daughters.”
“Beatrice didn’t know.” It was a certainty inside me. “She was still in high school when they died. A minor. Darcie handled all the paperwork.”
Crunching his empty cup in one hand, he threw it at a nearby trash can with pinpoint accuracy. “Knowing about the money, you still think this is about Ash Wakefield?”
I sipped the last bit of my sugary drink. “Yes. But only because he was Bea’s, not because he was Ash. Do you see?”
A slow nod. “They always compete?”
“No. That was the problem. Bea just shone brighter—she never had to compete, didn’t even understand that Darcie saw her as a threat.”
“Ah.”
I handed him my cup. “Can you make it two for two?”
He winked, lined up the shot and—“Boom.” Rising in the aftermath, he held my gaze with his own. “Being numb might feel good now, but don’t allow it to consume you. Numbness leads to a kind of quiet death.”
Poor Ratene.
He’d believed me.
Truth was, I wasn’t in shock.
I was at peace.
55
After Ratene left, I considered whether to go lie down in the spare bed the nurses had found for me. My other options were to doze in the armchair in Kaea’s room, or the one in Bea’s.
Then Aaron exited Grace’s room.
Back to me as he headed in the direction of the toilets meant for visitors, he didn’t see me. The police officer on duty inside Grace’s room came out at the same moment, stretching his stiff shoulders as he ambled to the coffee machine.
I got to my feet. “Is it okay if I go in to see her?” My heart thudded, my mouth dry.
“She’s asleep, so it should be okay.” His face was round, his smile kind. “And I checked the handcuff before I left. Any issues, just holler. I’m not going any farther than this machine and a cup of joe while I stretch out my legs.”
“Thanks.” I closed the distance to Grace’s room before he could change his mind. “Grace,” I hissed the instant I entered. “Grace.”
She startled awake, her eyelashes flickering and her eyes dazed. “Nae-nae,” she said sleepily several seconds later, a soft smile on her face. “Can I call you that even though it’s only for you and Beatrice? She gave me permission, but I want yours, too.”
I nodded, because even though she was a very dangerous individual, one with a gift for murderous obsession, she’d also been there for Bea at the most awful time in Bea’s life. Grace was also the only reason we knew the horror of what Darcie had done; I could never dislike her.
I told her that point-blank. “I’ll consider you a friend for the rest of my life.”
Big green eyes searching my face. “Even after what I’ve done?”
“I’ve always loved Bea best.” Quiet words. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone else.”
A smile that lit up her face. “I wouldn’t have hurt you. Just like I wouldn’t have hurt my Aaron. If it had gone according to plan, I’d have taken care of Darcie, then run up to find you both. I would’ve kept you warm, safe.”
Brushing back the soft silk of her curls, I nodded. “I know.” I also knew she’d planned to pin the blame for everything on Darcie, and that if her plan had failed, with her unable to best Darcie, Aaron and I would’ve frozen to death.
“But, Gracie?” Taking the hand that wasn’t locked to the rail, I wound my fingers through hers. “I need to know about Nix for my own peace of mind. It’ll haunt me forever otherwise.”
Grace went motionless, her gaze swimming around the room.
“No one is here and I’m not wired.”
Grace held my gaze, then moved her mouth . . . but made no sound. I missed the words she shaped the first time around, had to bend down with my ear right by her lips so she could whisper them to me. I had no fear that she’d bite or otherwise attack me. Grace and I, we had a bond unbreakable.
“He remembered me from a time when I wasn’t Grace.”
“When did you meet?”
“Before the institution. Before I knew Bea. In Zurich. Just one night at a party thrown by the son of a family friend. He met them on a hike. So long ago. I forgot all about it, about them.”
But Phoenix never forgot anyone. Even if it took him time to place the recollection, he always did in the end.
I’d teased him about it being Zurich. Had I jogged his memory without realizing it?
My heart hitched.
“Make sure Bea knows I did everything.” Another whisper, Grace’s gaze boring into me. “It’s all on me.”
Nodding slowly, I touched her curls once again. “You’re a good friend, Grace.”
The sound of a nearing footstep.
I rose just as the cop walked in, coffee in hand.
When I looked from him to Grace, she’d closed her eyes. Pretending to sleep. This conversation was over. Never mind. We’d talk again. I’d visit her in the next place where they locked her up.
I slipped out with a smile for the officer, then grabbed my outdoor jacket from Kaea’s room before heading off the ward and down the hall to the section that held patients considered stable, in only for observation.
How ironic that Grace’s intricate plan had begun to fall apart due to a chance encounter. Every other thing, she’d planned. Including her choice of target to gain entry into our friend group.
That she loved Aaron, I didn’t question. He was eminently lovable. But he was also the most vulnerable to a beautiful, sweet woman who wanted all the same things he did—which she knew, because Bea had known. Bea who, in her prison, had shared everything with the only person she felt she could trust there.
Including the details of a grand old house with secret passages, complete with a map drawn with crayon during an “art therapy” session that showed Grace the locations of those passages—and where Bea had hidden her keys.
Grace had never counted on Bea being physically present when she set her plan in motion.
“It was just icing on the cake when Aaron told me about the suggestion we go there,” she’d shared with me in the Land Cruiser. “I had plans for Darcie in the city, but it was so much better out on the estate. I could make her so much more afraid. I looked up the weather on our way to the estate, prepared to make use of it, but I had contingency plans in case the storm never landed.”
Darcie and Ash had been her two main targets.
Kaea’s injury and later suffering had been enough to satisfy her for the time being, though she’d planned to kill him at some point in the future, but the rest of us would’ve been safe enough unless we got caught in the cross fire.
Phoenix had been collateral damage.
I struggled with myself. Nix had been an innocent victim, as was Vansi, my friend a broken shell that might never be repaired. That, I finally understood, was why Grace refused to confess to Nix’s murder. And why she was willing to confess to everything else, be committed for her crimes.
Penance.
Because some part of her had the capacity to feel shame.
My chest tightened.
I felt shame, too, but not for what I’d done. For being willing to forgive Grace for the choices she’d made. Because without Grace, we’d have soon been commiserating with Darcie on her miscarriage, and hoping for the best for her—for a life that she’d gained on the back of her sister’s corpse.
As I walked along the wide corridor between wards, I saw nothing of the cold hospital tile, heard none of the medical chatter. My mind was back in the Land Cruiser, the rain slamming onto the metal and glass and Darcie bleeding out in front of me.
“No one will ever know.”
“She’s pregnant,” I’d said, accepting in that moment that I’d have let Darcie die had she not been responsible for the embryo within.
Grace’s laughter, so amused. “Oh, Luna—I can’t believe you fell for that. She’s a liar. Her and Ash were having trouble before a sudden birth control failure and pregnancy, weren’t you, Darcie?”
“I wouldn’t lie about that.”
“So you mean that wasn’t your husband who walked into a divorce lawyer’s office three months ago? Couple of weeks before you ‘discovered’ your pregnancy?”
Darcie’s face draining of what little color it had retained, her eyes round orbs and her voice mute.
“Yes, I watched you,” Grace had whispered with cheerful glee. “I watched all of you. So I know you haven’t been to the doctor once in the past two months. Surely, a woman in the first trimester of pregnancy should be under the care of a physician? I think I’ll send Ash an anonymous text telling him to take you to the doctor for a blood test.”
Desperation in Darcie’s gaze. “Please, Luna, don’t let her tell him. I just need a bit more time. I’ll get pregnant. We’ll have a baby and it’ll make us like we were before. We’ll be happy again—and you can be an honorary aunt like we always said.”
I’d just stared at her, wondering if she’d taken another hit to the head. “Even if you confess, even if they put you in prison,” I’d said when she went silent at last, “it won’t be for long. Nowhere near enough for what you did to Bea . . . and what you did to the rest of us.”
We would’ve been better people with Bea in our lives. I wouldn’t be this broken, hollow being who didn’t understand her place in the world. Bea had been my sun, had fed energy into me simply by existing. It was all I had ever wanted from her. Just that she exist.
When I’d thought her dead, I’d begun to wither on the vine.
“She was the only person I’ve ever fallen in love with,” I’d said gently to Darcie. “You murdered me when you took her from me.”
“She was unstable. She tried to kill hersel—”
“Stop, Darcie. You knew exactly what you were doing when you had her locked up. You knew that she’d never make it.”
And then I’d done . . . nothing.
Four of us in that Land Cruiser as the rain beat down and Darcie bled. I’d asked her about Professor Hammett with a kind of distant curiosity. “Kaea said you lied to us and it had to do with the professor.”
Faint with lack of blood and eager to please me, earn my forgiveness, she’d told me. So tawdry. A failing grade turned into a high pass after she caught him kissing his boyfriend. Two quiet men. Happy to be together. Except one of them was married. The lie Darcie’s joyous celebration of how she’d aced the class.
I’d wondered how Kaea had found out, hadn’t cared enough to dig any deeper. I’d just listened to the rain as Darcie’s pleas faded off into a whispering silence.
No one will ever know.
Only Grace.
And Grace would never tell. Because Grace knew how to be loyal. Yet Grace had also killed an innocent.
But . . . her life was done; she’d spend the rest of it behind locked doors, no threat to anyone else.
No one will ever know.
Grace wasn’t the most reliable keeper of secrets. But even if she told, even if anyone believed her, there was no way to prove that I’d taken my time getting to Jim’s. No way to prove that Darcie had begged until her voice failed.
No way to show that I’d watched her die.
I’d wondered if I’d be haunted by her slow death, but that wasn’t what haunted me. No, it was the thought of Bea curled up in an institutional bed crying because she thought we’d all abandoned her.
For Darcie . . . I felt no guilt at all.
Did that make me a psychopath, too?
56
Unconcerned by the idea that I might not be as sane as I believed myself to be, I pushed through the ward doors. It was far quieter here, and most people were in shared rooms with only curtains around their cubicles. No need for an excess number of nurses and orderlies when the vast majority of these patients didn’t require much beyond a regular check to ensure they remained stable.
