Kevin O'Brien Bundle (46 page)
Read Kevin O'Brien Bundle Online
Authors: Kevin O'Brien
When Molly came back to the kitchen, she found Rachel sitting at the table with a second can of 7UP—and a tall glass of ice—in front of the chair beside her. “I figured you could use a drink,” she said, pouring the 7UP in the glass. “And under the pregnant circumstances, I guess this is about as wild as it gets for us.”
Molly worked up a smile and sat down next to her.
“Are we all squared with Erin’s school?” Rachel asked.
Molly nodded. “It’s all straightened out.”
Rachel raised her can of soda to toast her. “So—forgive me?”
Molly took the glass of 7UP and clicked it against Rachel’s soda can. “All’s forgiven.”
Rachel sipped hers. “Well, come on, drink up. The toast doesn’t count unless you drink, too.”
Molly started to raise the glass to her lips, but then she set it down again. “Oh, I almost forgot about Chris.” She got to her feet. “I called him when Erin didn’t get off the bus. He’s on his way here, probably going crazy with the rush-hour traffic. He was down in Kent, chasing down a lead about Jenna Corson.”
“Really?” Rachel murmured. “What kind of lead?”
“I don’t know. But he put it together himself that she’s the one behind all the horrible things that have been going on around here lately—no coaching from me.” Molly grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper from the basket in the corner of the kitchen counter. “Do you have Lynette’s sister’s address? I’ll tell Chris to swing by and pick up Erin.”
Rachel looked stumped for a moment. “Oh, I—I left it in my coat in the house. I can pick her up later. Maybe we can send Chris in an hour or so, and then we’ll use that time to do a little breaking and entering at the Nguyens’.”
Molly leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. “You don’t seem to take that idea about searching their house very seriously.”
Rachel laughed. “Are you kidding me? I’m nervous as hell about it. In fact, sit down.” She pointed to Molly’s glass. “Wet your whistle and tell me your plan.”
“I need to call Chris first,” Molly said. “He’s probably going out of his mind with worry.” Again, she found herself retreating to Jeff’s study to use the phone—rather than talk on the kitchen extension in front of Rachel. She dialed Chris’s cell number.
He picked up on the second ring: “Hi, Molly, what’s going on?”
“Erin’s okay,” she said. “She’s at Lynette’s sister’s house—with Carson and Dakota. I guess she still hates me and doesn’t want to be around me. So she called Rachel from school and asked to be picked up. Rachel dropped her off at Lynette’s sister’s place.”
There was silence on the other end. Molly wondered if she’d lost the connection. “Chris? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m just trying to wrap my head around that story, because it sounds pretty screwed up.”
“Sounds screwed up to me, too, but that’s what happened,” Molly said. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Erin’s all right. I’m here with Rachel. I’m guessing traffic has been heinous.”
“Yeah, but I should be there soon,” Chris said. “By the way, Molly, you slept downstairs, so you didn’t hear it. But Erin had a nightmare last night, and she woke me up. She was extra scared because you weren’t in your bed. She’d gone to you first, Molly. She’s crazy about you. She was really happy when I told her that you were staying and taking care of us. So that story about Erin hating you? It’s bullshit.”
Dazed, Molly didn’t say anything. Suddenly she was worried about Erin again.
“I gotta go,” she heard Chris say. “There’s a cop one lane over, and I shouldn’t be driving and talking on the cell at the same time. See you soon.” He clicked off.
Molly hung up the phone, then went to the window and stared out at the darkness. She saw part of her own reflection in the glass—and then someone stepping up behind her.
She swiveled around. Rachel smiled and offered her the tall glass of 7UP. “Did you get ahold of Chris?”
Molly nodded and took the glass. “Yes, he’s on his way.”
“Good.” Rachel sat on the edge of Jeff’s desk.
Molly looked down at her 7UP, but didn’t taste it. “You know, when I first realized Erin wasn’t on the bus, I thought Chris might have picked her up. I had this notion that they both hated me, so he was taking his kid sister and running away. He assured me just now that Erin likes me very much.” Molly paused to let it sink in. “That was nice to hear, but it doesn’t quite gel with the story you told me, does it?”
Rachel shrugged. “Well, maybe Chris was just trying to make you feel better, Molly.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Chris is a nice kid, but he’s never gone out of his way to spare my feelings. I usually know where I stand with him.”
Rachel let out a tiny laugh. “Just like his father.”
Molly stared at her and said nothing.
Rachel laughed nervously, and then flicked her hair back. “Or—so I gather, I mean, from what you’ve told me about Jeff.”
Molly’s eyes kept searching hers. The ice clinked in her glass, and she realized her hand was shaking. She set the glass down on Jeff’s desk. She was thirsty, but hadn’t even sipped any of the 7UP, because Rachel had poured it. On some unconscious level, she knew it might make her sick—like the peppermints and the ginger capsules Rachel had given her.
Now she knew who had slashed a yellow
X
across her painting and set it up to look as if Erin had been the culprit.
X
across her painting and set it up to look as if Erin had been the culprit.
Now she knew the woman standing in front of her had seduced and murdered Jeff.
Molly heard a car, but she didn’t turn to look out the window behind her. She didn’t want to turn her back on this woman.
She listened to the car pulling into the driveway and watched the headlight beams sweep across Jenna Corson’s face.
Chris turned off the ignition to his father’s Lexus. Straight ahead, in the window to his dad’s study, he noticed Molly standing and talking to their neighbor, Rachel.
Rachel’s story about picking up Erin at school sounded wrong in so many ways. At the last stoplight on the way home, Chris had tried to phone Mrs. Hahn to confirm that her sister had Erin. But he’d gotten some weird tone pattern, and then a recording:
“The person you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time. Please try your call later. . . .”
Then as the recording had lapsed into Spanish, he’d remembered Mrs. Hahn had broken her cell phone.
“The person you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time. Please try your call later. . . .”
Then as the recording had lapsed into Spanish, he’d remembered Mrs. Hahn had broken her cell phone.
Even with Mrs. Hahn’s broken phone, he didn’t understand why his sister would call Rachel—to be taken to Mrs. Hahn’s sister’s house. How did she even know Rachel’s number? He sure as hell didn’t know it. If Erin wanted to be picked up, she would have phoned him before calling the lady next door. And she wasn’t mad at Molly anymore, so it just didn’t make any damn sense.
He climbed out of the car and hurried to the front door. It was strange that neither Molly nor Rachel had come to let him in when they were only a few feet away in his dad’s study. He had to unlock the door with his key.
As he stepped inside, Rachel turned and smiled at him. “Well, hi, Chris.”
“Hi,” he said tentatively. Taking off his school jacket, he hung it on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.
“Molly said you were in Kent, following a lead,” she said.
Bewildered, he glanced past her—at Molly, who stood by his dad’s desk with her arms folded. He could feel an awful tension in that small room—as if he’d just walked in on them at the brink of an argument.
“She wants to know if you talked to anybody about Jenna Corson,” Molly said steadily. “She wants to know who you talked to, and what they told you. But I have a few questions for you,
Rachel.
For example, why would Jenna Corson set fire to your toolshed and threaten you on the phone when you had absolutely nothing to do with her husband’s firing or his murder?”
Rachel.
For example, why would Jenna Corson set fire to your toolshed and threaten you on the phone when you had absolutely nothing to do with her husband’s firing or his murder?”
Rachel scratched the back of her neck, and laughed. “I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at, Molly. But we agreed that it’s probably because I’m your friend. Remember?”
“It threw me off for a while, that’s for sure,” Molly said. “I was actually worried for you.”
“What’s going on here?” Chris murmured, glancing back and forth at the two of them.
“I remember the first day we met,” Molly continued. “I gave you that letter you must have addressed to yourself and slipped in our mailbox. I told you about Lynette’s kids throwing dirt balls at cars. The very next day, her kids got all cut up, because someone had scattered broken glass in that vacant lot. I always thought that was too much of a coincidence.”
Rachel smirked a tiny bit. “You said they’d been doing that for a while. They probably pissed off a lot of people. It was bound to catch up with them eventually. Sounds to me like they had it coming.
‘Time wounds all heels,’
I like to say.”
‘Time wounds all heels,’
I like to say.”
Chris stared at their new neighbor: light brown hair, cute face, and even with that poncho she was wearing, he knew she had a nice body. She perfectly fit Roseann’s description of the “hustler” who had been with his father at the hotel on Friday, the woman who had killed him.
He remembered what Mr. Corson had said to him on what would be the very last time they’d ever see each other—at that running trail by Lake Union:
“Your neighbors on Willow Tree Court and the ones like them, they’ll have to pay. . . . It reminds me of this saying my wife has. ‘Time wounds all heels.’ ”
“Your neighbors on Willow Tree Court and the ones like them, they’ll have to pay. . . . It reminds me of this saying my wife has. ‘Time wounds all heels.’ ”
Stunned, Chris kept staring at her.
With an exasperated little laugh, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her poncho.
“You’re Mrs. Corson,” Chris heard himself say. “You killed my parents. . . .” His fists clenched, he took a step toward her. “Where’s Erin? She’s got nothing to do with what happened to Mr. Corson. What the hell have you done with my sister?”
All at once, Jenna Corson grabbed Molly by the hair and pulled a gun from the pocket of her poncho. She pressed the barrel to Molly’s head. Chris froze. Jenna Corson didn’t say anything. Yet Chris knew if he took one more step toward them, she’d shoot his stepmother in the head.
Molly shrieked and desperately tried to push her away. But Mrs. Corson slammed the butt end of the gun against her temple. It made a terrible, hard-thump sound, and Molly groaned. She seemed stunned—and dazed into submission. Her eyes rolled back as she slouched against Mr. Corson’s widow.
“Get the blinds!” Mrs. Corson barked at him. She nodded toward the study window. “Do it!”
Glaring at her, Chris moved to the window and lowered the blinds. “Where’s Erin?” he asked again.
“Your sister’s fine, Chris,” she said, backing away and dragging Molly into the front hall. She jabbed the gun barrel against Molly’s temple. “I’ve got Erin. She’ll be all right. I don’t blame her for what happened to Ray. You’re the ones who started it. That’s why I saved you two for last. . . .”
Hesitating, Chris began to follow them down the hall toward the family room.
She tugged at Molly’s hair, yanking her head back. “Molly, you were under a tremendous strain. They’ll say you snapped, poor thing.” She let out a tiny laugh. “You shot your stepson, and then set fire to every house on the block. And then you shot yourself. They’ll find you both in this room. Everyone will say insanity must run in your family, Molly. They’ll say you were unbalanced, just like your crazy, murdering brother. I paid good money to a private detective in Chicago to find out about Crazy Charlie. . . .”
Molly just moaned in protest. She seemed too disoriented to struggle. Blood oozed from the corner of her forehead where Jenna had hit her with the gun.
Jenna knocked over a standing lamp as she backed into the family room. It hit the floor with a crash but didn’t break. She didn’t even glance at it. She still held Molly up by her hair. “By the way, this gun is registered in Jeff’s name. They’ll think it was his. I got Jeff to buy it for me two months ago. All the paperwork has his name and this address on it. I told Jeff there were some break-ins in my neighborhood, and I needed a gun. Wasn’t that sweet of him to make sure I was protected?”
Standing in the hallway, uncertain what to do, Chris heard a noise outside. It sounded like a car door opening and closing. But Mrs. Corson didn’t seem to hear it over Molly’s anguished moaning, which only got louder.
“After tonight, I’m going to disappear—with Erin,” she announced. “Erin’s still innocent—and young enough to become my own. The Dennehy family owes me a daughter, goddamn it.” Though she had tears in her eyes, she smiled. Her lips brushed against Molly’s ear. “I’ll leave here with more than one child of Jeff’s. The baby I’m carrying, Molly, it’s his. . . .”
Chris shook his head. He couldn’t believe what she was saying.
All at once, someone rapped against the front door.
Molly tried to scream out, but Mrs. Corson slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Seattle Police!” the muffled voice called from the other side of the door. The man knocked again, and then he rang the bell. “Is anyone home?”
Wide-eyed, Mrs. Corson glared at Chris. “Get rid of him!” she whispered, dragging Molly into the kitchen area. She kept the gun barrel pressed against her head.
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