Killer Image (An Allison Campbell Mystery) (15 page)

Damn him
. Media. Threats. Let him try. She rubbed her collarbone again, the unpleasant sensation of his fingertips still chafing against her skin. She wondered how often McBride resorted to violence to get what he wanted.

Sunny’s unhappiness was suddenly understandable. And Maggie’s. Tonight would not be a pleasant one in the McBride household. Allison would keep her promise about that dog, but otherwise, she was afraid there was nothing more she could do.

Sixteen

Mia switched off the ignition and stared at Allison’s house. Until Jason had called earlier in the day, Mia had been under the mistaken impression that he was as bitter as Mia over his and Allison’s divorce. Perhaps I’m too sheltered up there, she thought. I’m projecting my own feelings onto my son.

Too many memories lingered here. Allison had been like a second daughter to her. She remembered the wounded creature who showed up at her doorstep a decade ago, looking for work. When Allison told her she was a semester shy of a doctorate, Mia had turned her away. She’d needed an assistant—someone to do intake, file, answer the phone. Allison had been overqualified. And hopelessly plain. But something about her dejected air had tugged at Mia, and when Allison showed up a second time, assuring Mia the job was exactly what she was looking for, Mia gave her a chance.

The assistant position had grown as Allison blossomed. She soaked up all Mia had to teach her. The clients loved her. She was warm and no-nonsense at the same time, a wonderful contrast to the Main Line exclusiveness that surrounded them. After Bridget’s death, Mia had clung to Allison. Sold her—no, practically gave her—the business and watched it grow in ways Mia never imagined, all the while feeling a mother’s pride in Allison’s accomplishments.

And then Allison left Jason. Her only son. Indeed, her only surviving child.

Mia forced herself out of the car. She opened the trunk and grabbed a leash and a dog blanket, which she spread over the backseat. When was the last time she had come here, to this house? Three months before Allison and Jason had announced their divorce. Allison had come home late that night. She’d just heard that her book,
From the Outside In
, was to be published. She’d seemed overjoyed...whereas Jason had not.

One more thing separating Allison and Jason: success.

Was divorce inevitable? Mia liked to think they could have salvaged their marriage. They were good for one another. Jason had had a succession of girlfriends during college and afterwards. Mia found most of them vapid and boring and wondered whether her son wasn’t too fixated on the physical, for all of them were beautiful. Tall, short, thin, voluptuous but always beautiful.

But then he met Allison through her and something changed. He stopped going out so much. He listened to people. He wanted a family. Allison broke her son’s heart. This Mia knew deep in her soul, and it was this knowledge that had caused her to turn Allison away two years ago. Losing a child to her own husband’s drunk driving was bad enough. She couldn’t bear to watch her other child suffering.

Perhaps she had been unfair.

Mia knocked on the door. She heard shuffling and then a dog barking. Something crashed. Allison screamed. Mia knocked again, more loudly this time.

Another scream.
Hurry.

Mia tried the doorknob. Unlocked. She dropped her purse and the leash and ran inside. Another scream, followed by a giggle and a moan, came from the dining room.

Mia sprinted through the foyer and kitchen and into the dining room... and there they were, dog and woman. Allison lay on the floor with the largest boxer Mia had ever seen sitting on her chest. The dog had a face only a mother could love—jutting jaw, protruding bottom teeth. Allison’s face was scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut. The dog was watching her face. Every so often, he’d reach his head down and lick her, stubby tail wagging.

Mia said, “I wish I had a camera.”

Allison opened her eyes. “Help!”

“It looks like you’re doing just fine.”

“Ha, ha.” Allison lifted her head. “Can you get him off? Please?”

Mia grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled. “What’s his name?”

“Brutus.”

“Come on, Brutus.” Mia tugged again. The dog seemed determined to remain on top of Allison, as though claiming his prize. “How about a treat?”

Allison said, “In the kitchen. He loves Meaty Bones.”

Mia jiggled the Meaty Bone box. That was all it took. Brutus came running into the kitchen and sat before her, tongue hanging out. She gave him a bone, and he devoured it as splinters of Meaty Bone flew from his lower jaw and clustered in his jowls. Mia shook her head. This dog was a mess.

“His table manners are lacking,” Allison said. She came into the kitchen. She wore faded jeans and a cotton blouse, which she was tucking back in. She looked at Mia warmly and said, “Thanks for coming.” She nodded toward Brutus, who was waiting for another treat. “He escaped from the kitchen and tackled me. Jumped right over the barricade.”

Mia laughed. She knew Allison had a bad experience with a dog when she was younger, so she was surprised to see her so calm now. Mia took a long look at her former daughter-in-law. She’d aged little since Mia had last seen her—a few faint crows-feet around her eyes and light lines on her neck and around her mouth. Allison’s hair seemed shorter and blonder than before, cut shoulder length and angled around her face, giving her a more mature air. All-in-all, she still had a pleasant, easy smile and features that leaned toward cute rather than beautiful, although there seemed to be a calmness about her now that hadn’t been there before.

Mia took stock of her feelings and was surprised to find only a vague sense of regretful longing. She’d expected to feel anger and bitterness.

“Tea?” Allison said with a wistful smile. “You didn’t use to be a coffee drinker, unless that’s changed.”

“Tea would be lovely.”

While Allison filled the teapot, Mia watched her tall, slim frame, still so familiar, at the sink. When they’d parted ways, Allison had been just on the cusp of career success. But despite her promise, she had always seemed a little bit of an outsider. Maybe that had been her appeal for Mia. She’d been a refreshing change from the Main Line sameness. But this Allison was a published author, a respected professional, a sought-after speaker. Had she finally managed to fit in?

Mia looked around. The house was a study in contradiction. Some rooms, like the kitchen, were professionally decorated and spotlessly clean. Others, like the dining room, were nearly devoid of furniture or anything personal that hinted at the woman who lived here.

“Chamomile, Mia?”

“Perfect.”

Allison poured water into the teacups. As she carried them to the kitchen table, Brutus hit her elbow with his massive head, causing one cup, then the other, to spill. Some of it splashed on the dog’s back.

Allison yelled, “Brutus!”

Brutus yelped and dove under the table. Mia climbed after him. His skin, though wet, seemed fine. When Mia looked up, she saw Allison standing there, looking at the dog, her shoulders shaking with big, chunky sobs that caused rivulets of black mascara to snake down her face.

“Hey,” Mia soothed. “It’s okay, Allison. He’s not hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to... the poor dog.” She backed up and wiped at her eyes. Mia stood up and handed her a paper towel.

“He’s fine.”

“It’s not just the dog. It’s everything.” Allison blew her nose into the paper towel. “I’m sorry, for whatever I did. To make you so angry.”

“Stop. You have nothing to apologize for.
Nothing
.”

“I let you down.”

“You didn’t let me down. I was crushed when you divorced Jason, yes. But only because I love you, and I was afraid. Afraid I’d never see you again.” Even as she said the words, she understood the irony. It was she who’d initiated the freeze between them, not Allison. The divorce hadn’t taken Allison away; Mia had pushed her out of her life. Before Allison could hurt her, too.

“Oh my, Allison.” Mia took Allison’s hand. “It’s I who am sorry.”

Their eyes met.

“You’d been through a lot. With Bridget.” Allison gently pulled her hand free. She dampened the paper towel at the faucet and wiped it over her swollen face. Then she pulled out a kitchen chair for Mia and took the seat opposite. “I know her death broke your heart, Mia. Jason and I, we weren’t sensitive to that. We should have waited to tell you.”

“Her death did break my heart. It was the most crushing pain I’ve ever felt. But I survived.” Brutus pushed his head up under Mia’s hand. She stroked it absentmindedly. “Maybe that’s the funny part of it. That any of us can go on, can continue to do and think and be, in spite of what happens. And before that, that we keep making music, or painting, or cleaning, or punching numbers on a cash register, all the while not realizing what horrible things wait for us around the corner.”

Mia rubbed under Brutus’s chin. The dog seemed to like it and raised his head up further to lean against Mia’s arm. Allison’s house was quiet except for the hiss of the tea kettle releasing the last sprays of steam. Mia thought about Bridget, about all the times she and Bridget had sat, waiting for water to heat, talking about things that meant nothing at the time but, looking back, meant everything, really.

“Maybe those of us who’ve never experienced the worst life has to offer get along with a peculiarly human kind of denial,” Mia said into the silence. “And maybe those of us who’ve touched the void and lived—and losing a child
immerses
you in the void, Allison, believe me—maybe we survivors just need to protect ourselves from ever visiting its depths again.”

Mia looked up to see Allison staring at her. Her eyes showed only kindness.

“I’ve spent the last few years being so angry at Edward. For killing. And at Bridget. For dying.” Mia swallowed, biting back her own tears. “I judged her, Allison. I judged her in my heart and condemned her for being the one to go. And I am just now realizing that the anger I directed at you was my anger toward her. For leaving me.”

Mia felt her own tears come in a rush, long overdue. Then she felt a warm hand on her shoulder and a wet nose under her arm. She was grateful for the comfort, for the knowledge she was not alone.

It was as though Bridget was there, smiling and, finally, offering her forgiveness.

Mia shook her head. “I’m not taking him, Allison. He might have something my other dog could catch, like mange.”

Mia knelt on the kitchen floor and stroked the dog’s back. She and Allison had spent the last two hours catching up, but now it was time for her to leave. Allison wanted her to take Brutus with her. The dog didn’t have mange—Mia was pretty sure the patch on his back was just a skin allergy—but Mia needed some reason to leave Brutus here. It was obvious that Allison and that dog needed each other.

Allison put her head down. “Now what? I can’t have a dog, Mia. Especially not one like him. He’s so big and needy.”

“Take him to the vet. I’ll give you the name of a good one. A few decent meals, some medication, and he’ll be in great shape.”

“Look at him.”

Mia smiled. He
was
about the ugliest dog she’d ever seen. “So what? Underneath that face is a sweet dog, Allison. You could always take him to the pound, though they may....”

Allison’s jaw clenched. “No. Never mind.” She sounded resigned. “I promised Maggie, no ASPCA. I’ll keep him for now if I have to.”

“Maggie?”

“A client. A former client, actually.”

Mia stood up. “Since when do you take clients’ dogs?”

“Since I was trying to bond with an oppositional teenager.” She gave Mia the gory details, ending with her confrontation with McBride earlier in the day. “We’re through now. But I can’t go back on my word on this dog. I promised Maggie.”

Mia felt her pulse quicken at the mention of McBride. There were rumors: job losses, broken deals, country club cancellations, all following fallings-out with the congressman. She knew of him from her image consulting work and through Edward. The Main Line was a large suburb but, at its core, a small town. The big players knew each other. And so McBride had played golf with Edward on occasion, and even Edward, arrogant ass that he was, didn’t trust him.

She handed Allison the leash she’d brought from her car earlier, and then jotted a veterinarian’s name on a piece of blank paper. 

Mia said, “Stay away from Hank McBride, Allison. He’s a powerful man, more powerful than his political title warrants. He comes from money, and he’s not afraid to throw it around.”

“You know him?”

“I’ve met him. He and Edward used to play golf together.”

Mia considered the other part of Allison’s story: that Maggie McBride was being questioned by police. She imagined that the threat to McBride’s family status, to the image of the McBrides as an all-American unit, would make him even more dangerous. And the congressman’s visit to Allison, an indication that he somehow blamed Allison, silly as it was, made the whole situation that much more worrisome.

She said, “Stay away from Maggie, too, Allison. Any connection to the McBrides can only cause you trouble. Remember my first rule of imaging consulting?”

Allison smiled. “How could I forget? ‘Know your limits.’”

“Exactly. If you can’t fix it, the problem belongs to someone else.”

Allison nodded toward Brutus. “What about him?”

Mia laughed. “I’m afraid Brutus needs more help than any of us can give him. From an image consultant’s standpoint, he’s beyond redemption. But I think there’s a carve-out in the consultant handbook for hopeless canines.”