Only Ever You (39 page)

She grabbed it, stumbling out into a hallway, struggling to hold the gun out in front of her. “Sophia?” She found the exit out to the garage, balancing against the old sedan while waiting for the garage door to slowly whir its way up and against the ceiling. Even with fading light, the contrast from the dark house to snow was blinding. She could hear a horn blaring somewhere in the distance. Jill blinked, head throbbing. Leo’s car was gone; the woman had taken Leo’s car. “Sophia!” Jill ran out into the snow, crying her daughter’s name. She reached for David’s cell phone, forgetting that there wasn’t reception, but there wasn’t any phone either—it must have fallen out in the house. The car in the garage. Jill ran back to it, yanking open the driver’s door, but there were no keys in the ignition. She had to find the keys, she had to go after them. But she couldn’t drive like this even if she found the keys. She had to find help. Desperate and disoriented, she took off running down the driveway.

Dusk in winter. Under the canopy of trees the world reduced to black and white—dark spires of trees and the snow-covered road that cut through them. She ran along the tire tracks left by the car, slipping and sliding, falling once into the cold, wet mess before scrambling to her feet and running on. She saw the glow from the car before the wreck itself, taillights casting red shadows across the snow like wine spilling across a white tablecloth. The Impala had gone off the road as if Bea intended to take a shortcut through the surrounding woods, but the front of the car had rolled across a boulder before crumpling against a solid tree trunk, smoke billowing from the engine. “Sophia!” Jill screamed, but it was impossible to hear over the noise of the horn. She ran to the wreckage, holding the gun up for protection, yanking at the closest passenger door, but it was locked. It smelled acrid, like burning plastic, and there was the faintest odor of something else. Gasoline? The dog startled her, leaping against the window with teeth bared, barking like crazy. Jill tried to see past him, to peer through the tinted windows, but he kept blocking her view. She could dimly see something or someone in the backseat, but it wasn’t moving. “Sophia! Sophia!” Her throat felt hoarse from cold and screaming. She ran around to the driver’s side, slipping the gun in her pocket when she saw Bea slumped over the wheel. The driver’s door was unlocked, but stuck from the crash. Jill fought to pull it open, gagging on smoke.

It finally gave and she shoved Bea’s body off the horn, Jill’s ears ringing in the sudden silence. The body fell against the passenger seat, blood smeared across her forehead, eyes blank and glazing over. Jill reached around to unlock the rear door to get in the backseat, the dog growling and yipping. The only other sound she could hear was her own keening. She could see a still, small form wrapped in a blanket on the backseat.

In that moment four years fell away, and she was opening the door at the end of the shadowed hallway, approaching the crib where the still, small body of her son lay. It couldn’t happen again, she couldn’t lose Sophia, too. Gasping, Jill yanked open the passenger door and a small white dog raced down the blanketed body, barking furiously, teeth bared.

“Sophia!” Jill reached toward the blanket, pulling at an edge, but the dog leapt, catching Jill’s coat sleeve in its jaws, unable to get through the thick fabric to skin. She shook it off, stumbling back, her breaths coming shorter and louder as she saw fine blonde hair. “Please no, please no, please no,” she repeated over and over, an increasingly desperate mantra as the child didn’t move. She was afraid to touch Sophia, afraid to face the worst, but she had to know.

She found a branch on the ground and threatened the dog with it. “Move! Get away!” He bared his teeth, ears back, but cowering, and when she reached again toward Sophia he ran from her, huddling near the child’s feet, yipping frantically. Jill’s hand shook as she peeled back the blanket and touched Sophia’s face. Her skin was warm. Afraid to hope, Jill pushed the blanket away and pressed a hand against her daughter’s small abdomen to see if she was breathing.

chapter forty-six

DAY TWENTY-THREE

Two seconds of agony. Three. And then, the slightest rise of Jill’s hand. Sophia was alive. Sobbing with relief, Jill rapidly ran her hands over her daughter, checking for any visible injuries before gathering her into her arms and carrying her away from the smoking wreck. She had to get help, get both of them to a hospital, but David’s phone was in the house. She carried Sophia back up the winding driveway, keeping the blanket wrapped protectively around her daughter while snow lashed her own face. Jill’s arms ached, and the headache had gotten stronger. She was probably concussed. Even if she could find the keys, it probably wasn’t safe for her to drive. As she reached the open garage, motion-sensor security lights came on, startling her. She didn’t stop until she’d carried Sophia into the living room, where she laid her on the sofa and tried to bring her around, rubbing her hands and tapping at her cheeks. “Sophia, wake up. Wake up, baby.” She gently pushed back her eyelids; Sophia’s eyes were disoriented, rolling in their sockets. She’d obviously been drugged. “C’mon, Sophie, c’mon, wake up.”

Finally, Sophia stirred, her eyes fluttering open and shut. “Wha-a-at?” she slurred, and then her gaze found Jill’s face and she seemed to focus clearly for a second. A trace of a smile as she said in a faint, hoarse voice, “Mommy?”

“Yes, it’s Mommy, I’m here,” Jill said, laughing with relief as she wiped away fresh tears.

“Thirsty,” Sophia said next, one small hand rising to her throat. She licked dry, chapped lips.

“I’ll get you a drink. Just stay here, okay?”

The little girl moved her head in what might have been a nod, and Jill raced to the kitchen, filling a coffee mug at the sink. She carried it back to the living room with shaking hands, water slopping over the sides, to find Sophia sitting up, the blanket falling around her shoulders. Jill noticed the shorn hair, the boy’s clothing. “Where’s Cosmo?” Sophia asked.

“Who?” Jill held the mug to her lips and Sophia drank greedily, her own small hands rising to hold the cup along with her mother. She wiped at her mouth and said again, “Cosmo.”

“Who’s Cosmo?”

“My doggie.”

“He’s outside,” Jill said.

“I needs him,” Sophia said. “He’s a good doggie.”

Jill took her gingerly on her lap. “Does anything hurt?”

“No, just my head is knocking.” She pointed at her head with a small index finger, and Jill kissed it, then her hand and her face.

“Stop it, Mommy,” Sophia protested, trying to push her away, and Jill laughed tearily.

“I’ve missed you so much, my one and only ever Sophia,” she said, rocking her daughter gently.

“I missed you, too, Mommy. Why didn’t you come for me? I wanted you to come get me.”

Jill squeezed her hard. “I wanted to, baby, I wanted to so much, but I didn’t know where you were.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“I know,” Jill said, smiling through fresh tears. “You’re a big girl. Can my big girl wait here while Mommy finds her phone?”

Jill hunted through the house, but either she’d dropped David’s iPhone outside or Bea had taken it with her. She’d taken almost everything else. The photos of the Lassiters had been hastily stripped from the walls, the worktable wiped clean. Gone were the map of Fox Chapel and the layout of Jill’s house. Strips of tape were all that remained, some with the corners of paper still stuck to them. The shrine had been hastily dismantled, the DVD player and framed photos taken, the lace cloth left, hanging askew. Something had been left behind on the shelf underneath the table. She picked up a small book with
JOURNAL
embossed on its leather cover. Jill flipped through the pages long enough to see that it was a record of the affair between Lyn Galpin and David. Jill didn’t want to read the sordid details; she left it on the table and continued searching for her phone.

Jill came back through the kitchen and noticed a door standing open. The basement. The phone could have fallen out when she was down there. Jill hesitated. She didn’t want to go back down there, but she had to. “I’ll be right back,” she called to Sophia before finding the light switch and starting down the wooden steps.

The lights she’d left on cast yellow pools, creating shadows in the dark space. Jill crept around the body in the laundry area, and spotted the phone near the drain. She tried not to look at the poor woman as she grabbed it off the concrete floor. As she left, she remembered another, almost hidden door and went to look inside. A windowless room of concrete block. So this was where Bea had kept Sophia. It was monstrous and yet the woman had obviously cared about her, too—the pink walls, the children’s furniture and toys. Jill spotted Blinky on the bed. She grabbed the toy and a child’s brown coat discarded on the floor, and ran back upstairs.

Sophia sat on the couch where she’d left her. She smiled and held out her arms for Blinky. She didn’t smile at the coat. “It’ll keep you warm,” Jill said.

Sophia shook her head. “No. It’s ugly.”

Jill smiled; whatever had happened in this house, it hadn’t crushed her daughter’s spirit. “Just put it on for now, okay? I promise you don’t have to wear it anymore after today.”

She paced the room with the phone held high, searching for reception. She hit 911, but quickly pushed the end button. What would the police think when they found Bea dead and Jill there with Sophia? Would they believe her story? She dialed Andrew’s number instead. He answered on the first ring.

“Jill? Where are you? The police have issued an APB; everyone is looking for you. You have got to turn yourself in.”

“I’ve found Sophia.”

“What? What do you mean you’ve found her? Where? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s fine.” Jill laughed shakily. “But we need to get to the hospital.” She tried to explain what had happened—Lyn Galpin, her mother, the dead woman in the basement, and the gun Jill had been left holding. Andrew interrupted her.

“Have you called the police?”

“No, not yet—”

“Okay, that’s okay, I’ll call them now. You just wait with Sophia. And she’s okay?”

“Yes, yes, she’s okay, a little groggy. She’s been drugged, but she seems okay.”

“Good, just sit tight. I’ll be there right away.”

“Okay.”

Jill pulled the blanket around Sophia and held her close. It was almost as cold inside as out. Bea Walsh must have stopped paying the gas bill. Jill just hoped that the electricity wouldn’t give out before the police and Andrew arrived.

“Is Daddy coming to get us?” Sophia asked.

Jill swallowed hard, giving her daughter an extra squeeze. She’d forgotten to ask about David. “No, Daddy can’t come, but Uncle Andrew is coming instead.”

“Mommy, I want Cosmo,” Sophia begged. “What if he’s cold outside?”

Jill gave in and opened the front door, but the dog didn’t appear even when Sophia called for him. “He has fur, honey,” she tried to reassure Sophia, carrying her on her hip as she paced the front of the house. Sophia dozed off against her shoulder. Jill was so tired, but she couldn’t stop moving or she might fall asleep, and she knew she shouldn’t fall asleep with a concussion.

At last she heard the crunch of gravel, and Jill zipped the coat on Sophia and carried her down the front steps as headlights emerged from the dark woods. The motion-sensor security lights came on again as Andrew’s black BMW pulled into view. Jill blinked against the glare, surprised that he’d made it there before the police.

“Amazing, I can’t believe you found her,” he said, striding over to them, with arms outstretched. “Come give Uncle Andrew a hug, sweetheart.”

Sophia didn’t object, giving him a sleepy smile, so Jill handed her over. “Did you see the crash?”

He nodded, holding Sophia close. “This driveway is terrible. I think branches scratched off some paint.”

The lights from the garage illuminated his car, snow beginning to cover the windshield. Jill stared at the side of the car, head starting to throb again. She saw a scratch along the side and a crack in one alloy wheel.

“I’ll call 911 now. I didn’t want some SWAT team beating me out here and jumping to the wrong conclusion,” Andrew said, looking around at the house and the woods. “You’re sure that woman in the car was Lyn Galpin’s mother?”

Jill nodded, yawning. She had to stay awake, but the desire for sleep was overpowering. In a daze, her eyes kept being drawn back to the wheel.

“We need to get you two to the hospital,” Andrew said, handing Sophia back to her. “Go ahead and get in the car, and I’ll just do a quick run-through of the house while I call the cops. Where’s the other b-o-d-y?”

“Basement.”

“Oh, and what about the g-u-n? Is that in the basement, too?”

Jill shook her head, shifted Sophia to one arm so she could pull it out of her coat pocket.

“Jesus, careful.” Andrew shook out a handkerchief and took the gun from her, tucking it in his own coat. “Sit down before you drop. I’ll be quick.” He took off up the front steps, while Jill carried Sophia over to Andrew’s car. She opened the passenger door and realized there wasn’t a car seat. “Just sit here for a minute,” she murmured to Sophia, stooping to put her down in the backseat. She stood back up and looked again at the side of the car. Something about it was bothering her. Maybe it was David rubbing off on her. He hated having any marks on his car. David’s car was pristine.

And suddenly Jill understood. She’d seen that cracked wheel on the accident footage playing on the looping video. The same cracked wheel was on the car that Lyn Galpin had been pursuing.

David’s car.

Except it wasn’t. It wasn’t David’s … it was Andrew’s.

“Okay!” Andrew’s voice made her jump. Jill turned too fast, dazedly watching as he came running down the front steps. “I tried to call the police, but I couldn’t get through. You two wait in the house and I’ll find reception down the hill. Here, I’ll carry Sophia.” He stepped toward the car door, but Jill blocked his path. Andrew’s smile wavered. “Jill? What’s wrong?”

“It was
you
.”