Justice for Sara (26 page)

Friday, June 14
3:33
P.M.

Kat stared again at the single sheet of paper, the boldly scrawled message. The police looked at family first. Those closest to the victim. Kat knew that only too well. If no suspect emerged, they moved out from there, in ever widening circles.

Family. Her. And Jeremy. No, not him. It would kill her. But she had no one else. Just Jeremy and—

Lilith.

That was stupid. Ubercontrolled Lilith? And why? Jeremy and Lilith had been newlyweds. Kat and Sara had only just begun to get to know her.

Kat made a sound of frustration at her own malleability. She was going to take this seriously? An anonymous letter. Really?

Stupid, Kat.
She got to her feet. Her fan was messing with her. The same as he always had. If her fan knew so much, why had he sent this to her Portland address?

She locked the cottage and started down the walk. Could the letter be an attempt to throw her off? She could see Bitsy or Ryan doing this.

Anger surged up in her. The bastards. Hadn’t she lost enough? Now, he—or she—wanted her to distrust and fear her own family.

She resisted the urge to crumple the letter and toss it in with all the refuse from the fire. Instead, she stuffed it into her purse.

A car eased past, but for once its occupants weren’t gawking at her. Today, they were staring toward Miss Iris’s place.

The small-town communication network, hard at work.

“I saw you sneaking out again. That night. I called the police.”

“But I didn’t, Mrs. Bell. I was locked in my room, remember?”

But the woman had insisted. Out the back, Miss Iris had said.

The bloody footprints. They’d stopped at the kitchen sink. As if the killer had disappeared.

An earring. “Bitch” scratched into the side of her Fusion. The perfect red bow, tied around the bat’s grip.

At the trial, the prosecutor had posed the question: Did the killer leave the scene naked?

Of course not, he’d continued. Because the killer lived there.

Kat brought a hand to her mouth. The killer wouldn’t have had to strip and leave naked, not if she could have simply changed clothes.

Who do the police always look at first?

Family. Those closest to the victim.

Another woman. There was only one.

Lilith.

Kat ran the rest of the way to the Tahoe. She climbed in and started the engine. It roared to life, oddly mirroring the way she felt inside. As if her every nerve ending, every instinct had just come to life.

She had Jeremy’s house to herself. If there was anything there to be found, she would find it. She would tear the place apart if she had to.

As she drove, her thoughts raced. Why would Lilith have done it? The woman had everything. She’d been a newlywed, new house, new career, bright new life. Why chance losing it all?

Kat flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. Or was she suspicious of Lilith because she didn’t like her? Or because Lilith had made it clear she wasn’t wanted here? That she resented having Kat stirring up the past?

Kat didn’t think so. It all fit. The journal, for one. That’s why it had disappeared. The “why Lilith would do it” had been written in those pages. Ryan would have had no cause to steal it. Nor would Bitsy. Not a stranger. Danny would have, but he was no longer a suspect.

Lilith.
No one else was left.

Kat’s thoughts were flying. She glanced at the speedometer and saw that she was as well. Going sixty in a thirty-five. She slowed. Focused on the road and traffic.

She reached the first gate. The old security guard from the night of the fire. The same pitying expression. But this time she didn’t turn around.

She made her way to the second gate. Then the third. She hit the garage door opener and the door rumbled up.

She rolled inside. Jeremy’s Mercedes. That’s right, he’d taken Lilith’s Jag.

Kat let out a long breath. She lowered the door behind her. Quiet, save for the thunder of her racing heart and the sound track playing in her head. She swung her door open, started to climb out, then stopped. How long had Jeremy and Lilith had this SUV? Ten years? They kept it for Jeremy’s occasional excursions to hunt in Mississippi or trips down to Lafitte to fish.

She clambered back in, popped open the glove box. The user’s manual. Proof of Insurance. Certificate of registration. A few receipts.

She moved on to the console. The spool of ribbon winked up at her and she hesitated. Not twenty-four hours ago, she had convicted Ryan and Bitsy; a day before that, Danny Sullivan.

You’re losing it, Kat. You’ve let the fan into your head. He’s messing with you.

Dammit. She didn’t know what to believe, what was true and what was not. She snatched up the ribbon. And caught her breath.

A gun.

Kat stared at it. She knew nothing about guns, except that they scared her.

Lilith was a security freak. Three gates. A gun in every vehicle. Maybe even in her bedside table. It wouldn’t surprise her.

Hands shaking, she picked it up. Heavy. And cold against her palm. She quickly laid it aside. Dug through the rest of the console’s contents. Nothing. Stuff. The kind of stuff that accumulated over years of driving.

Kat replaced the contents, pausing at the gun. Was it loaded? Probably, though she didn’t even know how to check. She put it back where she’d found it and headed into the house. She knew exactly where she would start.

The master bedroom.

She reached it. A room fit for a king and queen. A giant four-poster bed. A separate sitting room. Two huge walk-in closets, a His and a Hers. She’d never realized Jeremy was so vain—he had at least fifty suits. Two dozen pairs of shoes.

Lilith’s walk-in was almost double the size and had an island in the center, its granite top big enough to lay out a suitcase. Drawers, shoe racks. Kat turned slowly around, almost dizzy at it all.

Kat began with the drawers. Forcing herself to go slowly, resisting the urge to dig through, tumble and toss garments. If this didn’t pan out, she didn’t want to have burned her bridges and lose access to the property.

Or to Jeremy’s life.

He wouldn’t believe her, not without proof. She had to find something.

She came up with nothing. She returned to the bedroom proper. Tried both bedstand drawers. Again, nothing. Not even the gun she had been certain Lilith would have had tucked there.

The dresser proved just as disappointing. The woman was almost obsessively neat. Lilith would notice an uneven line, a garment with the slightest rumple.

The opulent master bath was next. Who lived like this? Kat wondered. A chandelier above the huge whirlpool tub? A built-in dressing table? Lilith must look at herself in the mirror here, as she applied beauty products and cosmetics, and feel like royalty.

Mirror, mirror on the wall …

Lilith, the wicked queen. Kat smiled grimly and headed for the dressing table. And there, in a small crystal dish, she found a single fleur-de-lis diamond earring.

Bitch.
She pictured the word, etched onto her brain, the same as it had been into the side of her car.

Her instinct told her to snatch it. But she remembered what Luke had said about contaminating evidence. She slid her iPhone out of her back pocket and snapped several pictures of it there, sparkling up at her from Lilith’s dressing table.

She needed that journal.

Reinvigorated, Kat picked up her pace. Among some boxes stacked in the far corner of the closet, Kat found a jewelry case. Costume jewelry, Kat saw. Faux pearls, high school class ring, holiday accessories. Jewelry Lilith wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, not anymore.

Kat rifled through the contents. And stopped when her gaze landed on it. A key. Old-fashioned. A skeleton key.

Kat retrieved her phone once more, took several shots of it nestled there, among Lilith’s things. Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to weep. She fought the tears back, remembering. The words burned onto her brain:
“Your sister locks you in your room once, only once ever, and it just happens to be on the same night she’s killed?… If Sara locked you in, how did you find her the next morning?
…
Your sister never locked that door … You made that up. In the hopes it would be an alibi…”

All questions that had tormented her for years.

And now she knew.

She knew.

Kat’s tears dried. She was ending this now. The bitch had murdered her sister. And she was going to make her pay.

Luke could take it from here. He
needed
to take it from here. Smiling grimly to herself, she called up a photo of the earring and messaged it to Luke’s phone, then sent him two of the key.

He would understand. And waste no time.

She couldn’t leave the key, she thought. It was too important. Kat hurried back to the island, to the drawer of scarves she had seen. She plucked a small one from the stack. Using the scarf, she lifted the key, folded the fabric around it and tucked it in her pocket.

Carefully, she restacked the boxes, then backed out of the closet, scanning the interior, looking for the slightest imperfection. Anything that would tip Lilith to the fact she had gone through her things.

She needn’t have bothered.

“So, I was right. You
are
a thief.”

Lilith.
Kat whirled around. Surprise became dread. She had a gun. And it was pointed at Kat.

“Surprised to see me?”

“I thought you were in Houston with girlfriends.”

“Obviously.” She gestured with the gun. “What were you doing in there?”

“Seeing how the other half lived.”

Lilith laughed, the sound brittle. “You are the other half, stupid.”

Kat responded with a question of her own. “So, how come you’re here instead of in Houston?”

“To check up on my
loving
husband. Figured he’d take the opportunity to shack up with his girlfriend.”

The untrustworthy never trusted anyone. It explained the gates. The guns. Lilith understood just how evil people could be.

“Didn’t think I’d catch the poor little rich girl stealing from us.”

“Knock it off, Lilith.” Kat started past; Lilith stopped her. “What’s in your pocket?”

“None of your business. You’re crazy.”

“And I have a gun. Empty your fucking pockets.”

Kat reached in the empty one first, pulled out the pocket, wondering what she was going to do. Could she drag this out? Would Luke get the photos? Would he try to call or immediately head this way?

Would Lilith shoot her where she stood?

Kat reached into the other pocket, eased out the scarf. The key slipped from its fold and fell to the floor.

Lilith looked at it, then lifted her gaze to Kat’s. “Now you know,” she said simply.

Fury choked her. “Why?” Kat managed. “What did she ever do to you?”

Lilith Webber
2003

The night of the murder

Lilith stared at Sara in disbelief. They stood at the edge of the foyer. Just minutes ago they had been sitting on the couch, attempting a heart-to-heart.

But Sara was refusing to be reasonable.

“After all Jeremy’s done for you,” Lilith said. “I can’t believe you would do this to us.”

“What about what I’ve done for him? What my family’s done for him?”

Sara was angry. Her cheeks were pink, her voice shaking.

But Lilith was, too. She tried to control it, the way she controlled everything, but it was leaking through the cracks. “You and your sister,” she all but hissed, “always needing something! Always coming crying to him! You have no idea how difficult it is for him.”

“And he gets a fat paycheck for being there for us.”

“Like that’s enough compensation—”

“Oh, I think he’s been getting plenty.”

Rage rose up in her. Lilith squeezed her hands into fists. “Danny’s a no-good gambler! Don’t you get that?”

“I love him. He’ll change. He—”

“They never change.”

“He’s going to rehab. He promised.”

Lilith counted silently to ten. She didn’t want to beg, but she would do whatever was required to make this right. “Please…” She held out a hand. “Don’t do this. Try to see my point of view.”

“I can’t let this go, no matter how much I want to. I love Jeremy, but I’ve already begun making arrangements.”

Her control snapped. “Love? You love him? That’s such bullshit!”

Sara’s expression hardened. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re your family.”

“I have my sister.
She’s
my family.”

“Crazy little bitch, she’ll be pregnant before she’s eighteen. And if she’s not already on drugs, she will be soon.”

“Get out!”

Sara whirled around, started toward the door. Lilith’s gaze fell on the baseball bat, propped there in the corner. Why wouldn’t Sara understand? What of
their
plans? What of
their
future?

She grabbed the bat, curled her fingers around the grip. She wouldn’t allow her to take it all away from them.

Lilith’s vision went red. She swung. The bat connected with Sara’s shoulder.

Sara screamed. The force of the blow sent her stumbling sideways.

Their plans.
Lilith hit her again. That blow sent her to her knees. Sobbing, she tried to scramble away.
Their future.

Sara pleaded. The more she did so, the more enraged Lilith became.

“Why—”

A horrible cracking sound.

“won’t—”

Blood splattering.

“you—”

In her eyes. Her hair.

“understand—”

The bat slipped from her fingers. Lilith looked at her hands, her legs, her feet. She was covered. Dripping.

She shifted her gaze to Sara. Realizing. Seeing.

What had she done?