Ruthless Game (A Captivating Suspense Novel) (23 page)

Judith paused. "Your mother was a very private person, Alex, maybe like you that way. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think she had another reason for leaving."

"You mean because of you and the kids who were killed." She nodded. "I'm sure that had a lot to do with it, though it wasn't the reason she gave."

Judith knew.

Alex swallowed. The timer dinged and she exhaled. "Maybe we could wait to discuss it until after dinner."

Judith nodded slowly, studying her. "Sometimes it helps just to get things off your chest. I'm happy to turn the dinner off and we can talk now."

Alex shook her head. "No. I think after dinner would be better."

"Maybe a full stomach will help?"

Alex nodded. A little more time would help.

Chapter 18

Alex finished her beer with the last bite of her dinner and declined Judith's offer for a refill. One beer was enough to release the tension without clouding her thinking. Three beers and she would be on her ass. That might be a solution, but not the one she needed.

They settled in the living room, and Judith set her coffee mug on the table and tucked her small stockinged feet beneath her. Alex suddenly wished she had accepted a cup of coffee. At least then she would have something to stare at. Instead, she glanced at her stubby fingernails.

"You don't have to talk about it, if you're not ready," Judith began.

Alex nodded. "I'm ready. I just don't know where to start."

Judith smiled. "How about the beginning?"

Alex inhaled and tucked her hands in her lap. "Brittany said you and I used to talk about nightmares."

Judith nodded.

"I have to say, I don't remember much about it."

"That's normal. You were very young."

"Not everything about my youth was normal. I was wondering if you remembered the dreams I used to have, if you could tell me about them."

Judith took a sip of her coffee and watched Alex. "You don't remember anything about them?"

She shook her head. "Only waking up with my mom sitting on the edge of my bed in her flannel nightgown."

Judith set her coffee down and leaned forward. "But nothing about the dreams themselves?"

Alex shook her head, then smiled. "Brittany always asks a lot of questions, too."

"Sorry. Must be a professional hazard. But while I'm at it, can I ask one more?"

Alex nodded.

"James told me about your blacking out and waking up in your car. Have you had any dreams lately?"

"I had one the other night..." She tried to think back to it. She awoke sweating; someone had called the police. The flashing red and blue lights on her bedroom walls still shone in her mind.

"Do you remember it?"

Her gaze focused on the wall, she shook her head. "Nothing clearly."

Judith nodded, still watching her.

Alex felt like she was strapped to a lie detector machine. Brittany always told her how much she relied on body language to determine the whole story. Alex was sure that was what Judith was doing now.

"That's okay," Judith said. "Lots of people never remember their dreams. I know I don't. Keep a notepad by your bed. If you wake up and realize you've been dreaming, try jotting down what you remember."

"You think knowing what I'm dreaming about will help?"

Judith shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I think it will be interesting to know if you're dreaming about the same things as you did when you were a kid. We can try a kind of memory exercise if you like."

Alex hesitated then nodded. "Sure."

"In your memory, can you picture talking to me?"

She frowned, unclear.

"If you close your eyes, can you see us sitting in your living room talking?"

She squeezed her eyes closed. "No."

"You're trying too hard, Alex. Relax your brow. Breathe deeply."

Alex sucked in a breath and let it out slowly.

"Now, let's just look at the room. Can you picture it?"

She saw it. "Yeah."

"You walk in from the kitchen, what's the first thing you see?" Judith asked.

Alex opened her eyes. "It's a mess. I'm trying to clean it out."

"Okay, close your eyes."

Doubtful this would work, Alex closed them again.

"Think back to when you were kids. What's the first thing you remember about that house?"

Alex pictured the house, she and Brittany chasing James around the back. "The yard."

"Good. Did you have a favorite place in the yard?"

"The front. Brittany and I used to always roll down the slope of the grass."

"Can you picture yourself rolling down the grass?"

Alex nodded.

"What do you picture? What do you feel and smell?"

"Nothing. I can't see anything."

"Why don't we wait? You don't need to do this all in one night."

Alex didn't open her eyes. "I want to see it. I want to know what happened."

"You will. It just takes time."

Alex blew out her breath. "I don't have time."

"Of course you do. We'll work on it another time."

"Can we try once more?"

"Okay. Keep your eyes closed. Good. Now, tell me what the grass is like. Is it soft? How does it smell?"

"The grass is itchy and smells strong."

"But you like it?"

"We love it."

"What are you doing outside?"

Alex hesitated, trying to picture herself as a child. "Brittany and I would race to the bottom of the hill, get up, run to the top, and race back to the bottom again until we were both too dizzy to stand." As the memories surfaced, the tension in her muscles begin to wash away.

Slowly Judith walked Alex through her memories. They entered the house, through the hall and into the living room. Judith seemed to remember the house perfectly as she helped Alex visualize the rooms then asked her to describe them. Alex told her about the pictures on the wall in the living room and the old floral fabric that covered the couch, surprised how vivid the images were.

With each step, Alex remembered more of the old house, and the feelings of being small again. Most of it seemed sweet, but there was a part of it that surfaced like angry bees, stinging her insides.

"Now, you were telling me about the dream—about the man. He was yelling at you. Do you remember why he was yelling at you?"

Alex nodded. "The gun." The words slipped off her tongue as though they'd been there all along.

"The gun. Who has the gun?"

"I do. I have the gun." Her eyes flew open. "Why do I have it?"

Judith frowned. "Because you shot him."

"I shot him?"

"Of course. You don't remember?"

Alex shot up from the couch and spun around in a fury as she tried to find her bearings. "There must be some mistake. I couldn't have killed him."

Judith stood and took Alex's arm, pulling her to the couch. "What don't you remember about it?"

Her head spun like a top. "Nothing."

Judith squeezed her hand. "What do you mean 'nothing'?"

Alex stared into space, picturing the gun in her hand. "Nothing. I don't remember anything."

Judith moved closer. "What about the dream?"

"I don't know. I didn't remember it until just now. I just found out about this today."

Judith's expression was puzzled. "You found out about the dream today?"

Alex pulled her arm away. "No, about the whole thing, the warehouse, the kids, the deaths, Androus, all of it."

Judith's mouth dropped open. "You didn't know—"

Alex swallowed hard. "Not until I read my name on the list of survivors in the case file today."

Stunned, Judith turned. "You didn't remember any of it?"

Alex shook her head, feeling Judith's shock. "No. I still don't."

"What about talking to the police? The therapists?" She motioned between them. "You don't remember that either."

"No, no. None of it. I don't remember anything. And Mom never mentioned it. We never talked about it."

Judith took her hand. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I never imagined you didn't know. I thought she would have told you eventually." She frowned. "This was not the way to find out."

Anger rushed across her. "No, it wasn't. You obviously knew."

Judith stared at her hands. "Not at first. I'd asked your mother what sort of things might've caused your nightmares. Kids have bad dreams all the time. It's not so strange. But when they continued to be the same picture—the man in the warehouse, the dead children, the screams..." She hesitated. "Well, I pressed your mother to tell me what had happened. I knew there had to have been something."

"And?"

"For a long time, she denied there was anything. And I thought it could have been something she didn't know about. That happens, too. The child is molested by a friend or, God forbid, a family member."

"How did you find out?"

Judith met her gaze. "It was kind of roundabout, actually. I'd been at Stanford the same time you guys lived in Palo Alto, so, of course, I'd heard about the murders. But I'd never imagined that you could've been there." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "One day, I was working on a case and your mother was helping me. The article was part of some research I was helping the D.A. with, involving a man who was charged with molesting and killing a child. Another child had gotten away and could identify the suspect as the killer."

Pausing, she looked straight at Alex. "We searched for similar survivor stories so we could contact D.A.'s offices around the country for information on how they prepared the children for trial, gather some other experts in the field.

"Your mother seemed especially perturbed by this research, which surprised me. She was usually fiery about the abuses of children, but I'd never seen her break down like that."

Judith pointed her finger, memory illuminating her expression. "I remember she said, 'What mother wouldn't be upset by these filthy maggots?' But when she got to the Sesame Street case, she broke down crying and rushed from the office. I found what she'd been reading..."

"And you put it together?"

Judith stared at the floor. "It wasn't hard since I knew your mother and had heard about your dreams."

Fury burning in her head, Alex stared at her hard. The anger spun, gaining heat and electricity until she expected lasers to fire from her eyes. "No one thought to tell me?"

Judith watched Alex carefully. "I still can't believe you haven't known all these years. I'm really sorry." She waved her hand to return to where she'd left off. "I knew your mother didn't want you told then, and I never felt right about it. She was adamant, but I thought she should've handled it differently, and I've always thought I could've done more. It's one of the reasons I was so happy that you wanted to come see me. I thought by now you would know. I hoped I could help somehow, that it wasn't too late."

Alex blinked hard, fighting off angry tears. "And my mother? Why didn't she tell me?"

Judith glanced at the ceiling, momentarily lost in thought. "It was such a different time, Alex. Sexual abuse charges by children against adults were dismissed more often than not. We didn't know nearly as much as we do now. Back then, people thought children got over it, that they'd just forget."

"That was it? She just forgot?"

Judith shook her head. "I don't think she ever forgot. I think she hoped she could take the pain for you. I remember when you were little, you used to tell me how your mother would come to your bed, crying. You didn't cry, but she did. You always thought that was so strange. And I think that's why. She felt the pain. I think she hoped by feeling it herself she could keep it from you."

It was impossible. How could they have done this? How could her mother have thought she could absorb the pain? Alex couldn't even imagine what her mother had been thinking. And now Alex had to deal with it alone. "Didn't you suggest she tell me?"