Sister Dear (41 page)

Her sister wrinkled her nose and offered a righteous look. “Yeah, right.” Then Emma pressed a hand to her chest. “Dad didn't know a thing about it. He'd have lost it completely if he found out.” She narrowed her eyes.

“What about now?” Allie allowed her voice to trail off. She dangled the question in the night air, hoping for a reaction, needing to hear what her sister would say next.

Emma crossed her arms in disgust. “Seriously, Allie. What? Are you going to tattle on me like I'm in kindergarten?” She scoffed and glared. “You're not going to tell anyone. All it'll do is get
you
in more trouble.” She sniffed.

No regret, not a shred of guilt. The sister she had thought she'd known was a complete stranger. A being she didn't recognize. One without a soul.

Emma kept talking. “At first I didn't know anything was missing. I really didn't pay much attention to what I was ordering. I
thought Dad was just doing more injectables at the stables. Then one night Coach put vials of some medicine in his pocket. I thought—”

“What? Wait a minute,” Allie asked, stunned. “He was taking it—stealing it? You knew? And you let him?” Her mouth gaped open. She forced it closed.

“He said it would help the team.” Emma deflected the accusation without a blink, as if Allie's opinion carried the weight of a cotton ball. “You know that
everyone
wanted them to win. Even Mom and Dad. Even you.”

Allie dug her fingernails into her palms but kept her face smooth. She assembled the facts in her brain, trying not to explode.

“It was all for good,” Emma defended him. “He was doing it to help,” her sister wailed, catching a sob in her throat. “You can't see that because you had everything.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her fists. “He was all I had—all I ever had. And then I lost him and . . .”

All of a sudden, Allie couldn't suck in enough air to make her body feel balanced. Everything was floating. “You lost . . . his baby?” Allie asked, not wanting to hear the answer. She was trembling.

Emma raised her eyes and sniffed back tears. “I never had a chance to tell him. He was so upset that night, really angry, not himself at all. It seems so ridiculous now.” She choked out a little laugh.

Allie swallowed hard.
She loved him. She believed him. No—it was much more than that. She worshipped him like a deity.

“We had an argument,” Emma continued. “A disagreement. That was all. I didn't feel good, so I left.” She drew a long face. “That's when I went to the hospital.”

“I don't believe that it was just a disagreement.”

As if in slow motion, Emma lifted her head, turning her face to glare at Allie. “What did you say?” her sister demanded.

“You're lying.” Allie stepped forward and clenched Emma's
arm tight. Her sister's rape or attack or assault story had been a ruse, a trick to throw everyone off. And it had worked brilliantly. “He put you in the hospital, didn't he? He hit you. He'd been doing it all along. But that night he
really
hurt you. Isn't that right?”

Emma did her best to shake loose of Allie's grip.

“Sheriff Gaines—is that who you were fighting about?” Allie demanded. “Because he was going to stop Coach Thomas's little operation?” She stopped to catch her breath, chest heaving. “Or maybe . . . maybe he was there too.”

Like a wild beast caught in a snare, Emma screamed, “Let me go!”

“He was there,” Allie said, challenging her sister to tell her otherwise. It all made sense now. It all made perfect sense. “He walked in on the coach smacking you around, didn't he? Got in the middle of it.”

Allie held on, the fingers on her right hand going numb. “And then Gaines ended it. Hit him so hard that he died . . .” she sputtered. “And you both left him there.” She squeezed harder. “Didn't you?”

Emma cried out, trying to wrench her body away.

Allie let go of her sister's arm.

“He-he wasn't himself that night. I ran. I had to save the baby,” Emma began to sob.

An owl hooted in the distance, followed by the flutter of wings. In the fading light, her sister's face crumpled with anguish and grief.

“I know . . . I know he never meant to hurt us,” she whispered to herself. “He loved me.”

“So did I, Emma,” Allie replied, tears welling up in her eyes. “So did I.”

FIFTY-EIGHT

ALLIE

2016

In a trance-like state, Emma hugged her arms to her chest. She swayed side to side, repeating the words. “He never meant to hurt us.” Sobs wracked Emma's body as she sank to the ground, clawing at the grass and dirt in grief and desperation.

“We could have helped. Don't you think you should have told us?” Allie bent down and touched her sister's shoulder.

Emma sprang to her feet and pushed Allie away. “Don't touch me!” she screamed. “Don't ever touch me.”

Stumbling to catch her balance, Allie braced herself against the car. “What's wrong with you?”

“You could have helped?”
Emma laughed, the sound shrill and tight. “What? You, Mom, Dad—the do-gooders—pitching in to ‘help' poor Emma. You can say what you like, but I was never going to measure up to you.”

“Emma—”

“Mom and Dad only cared about you,” Emma snapped. “You were their favorite. You were going to
medical school
.”

“It's not true,” Allie managed to choke out.

“Oh, it is. And I rallied back for a little while once they sent you away, but it was always ‘your sister this and your sister that.' It got tiresome.”

“What? What did I ever do to you?”

Emma snickered and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, let's see. The pool incident. You let Morgan push me and stood there, staring at me, while I sunk to the bottom. You had to
think
about whether to save me. You should have let me drown.” She wiped at her cheeks angrily.

“We were kids, Emma.
Kids.
Sure, we wanted to scare you, get you away from the pool. But after you fell, I was terrified,” Allie said. “I couldn't move for a second. But I did jump in and pulled you out. Doesn't that count?”

“You did it for show, to prove, once again, how wonderful you were. Come on, Allie, you were in the stupid newspaper. Everyone was so proud. The angel, swooping in to save her poor little sister.”

“That's not fair.”

“You're right. It's not.”

Allie stared hard into her sister's eyes. “Why, Emma? Why do you hate me?”

“There's a fine line.” Emma looked away. “I loved you. I worshipped you. And you were willing to watch me die.”

“That's not true,” Allie said. The venom in her sister's voice shocked her. “You've got it all wrong.” She stopped, blinking back tears. “I'm sorry, Em, if you feel that way. Why didn't you say something?”

“Like it would have made a difference?”

It was then that Allie realized the depth of her sister's hatred. Since they were children, Emma had been adding up her sister's alleged offenses and marking each of them unforgivable, etched in cold, hard stone.

Allie thought fast. She wanted to keep Emma talking. Making
her angry wasn't helping. “Think about it. After that, there was never another mean word or smart remark. Never. I almost lost you. My sister. And it changed me. Don't you see that?”

“No.”

“So, all of those days you came to Arrendale. What was that about?” Allie asked.

Her sister turned her head, concentrating on a speck of dust, and shrugged.

“What about Caroline?” Allie demanded. “She never visited after the first few times. Was that you or was that my daughter? Did you tell her not to come?”

Emma shifted her jaw from side to side, considering the question. She wouldn't meet Allie's eyes.

“Let me guess. You told her it was a bad idea. That it might upset her? That she might feel worse after seeing me?” Though she felt like dying inside, Allie fought to keep her voice calm. “You sent me that adoption information. You talked to Natalie about it. My boss. How could you, Emma?”

“She wants me to adopt her. She said it,” her sister snapped.

Allie gasped. “She's my child, Emma. I'll need to hear that from her.” She was breathing hard, as if she'd just finished sprinting three miles. “What gives you the right to judge me?”

“A jury—” Emma lifted her head.

“You're not on a jury. You're family. You're my sister.” Allie lowered her voice.

“Can't choose your family,” Emma quipped, her bottom lip thrust out.

Caught up in the argument, Allie didn't hear the rumble of an engine until the Glynn County Sheriff's car was several yards away. She whirled to see Gaines exiting the vehicle, a gun pointed at her chest.

FIFTY-NINE

CAROLINE

2016

“Oh my goodness.” Caroline sat straight up in the passenger's seat. At the edge of the woods, Russell pulled to the left side of the road, behind the thickest row of trees just before the clearing.

“Whose cars?” Russell shot her a worried look, turned the key, and pulled it out of the ignition. The last thing they needed to do was draw attention to themselves.

“I think I saw Emma's,” Caroline whispered.

“Let's go see.” Russell eased open the door and slid outside, beckoning for Caroline to do the same.

They crept to the nearest oak, hiding behind the thick trunk. Three cars were parked around the most run down shack she'd ever seen. Caroline squinted, gripping the bark, her voice quavering. “That's Grandma Lily's car, Emma's car, and—” She turned to Russell, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep, that's the sheriff's car,” Russell said, lowering his voice.

“What are they all doing here?” she whispered. “Maybe you should call your mom and dad?”

Russell nodded and dug in his pocket for his cell phone. Glancing at the screen, he frowned. “I've got, like, one bar.”

Caroline swallowed hard.

There was a loud wooden creak and the sound of boots on stairs.

Russell yanked Caroline back, pulling her into a crouch. Through the bushes, she could see the sheriff behind her mother and Emma, pointing his gun. She stifled a cry.

“He's going to take them somewhere,” Caroline hissed at Russell. “He'll see us. He'll see the car.” Her pulse thudded so loudly she could barely hear his response.

“Just wait,” he murmured, holding his finger over his lips as he leaned forward to get a better view.

As quietly as she could, Caroline moved in closer to Russell, keeping her eyes glued on the sheriff, her mother, and her aunt.

But instead of forcing the women into the patrol car, Gaines popped the trunk, took out two cans of gasoline, and handed one to Emma and one to Allie. He barked some orders and gestured with the handgun.

With a furtive glance at each other, Emma and Allie began spreading the liquid around the structure, soaking the walls and grass.

“Oh no,” Russell said, balling his hands into fists. “What the hell?”

Caroline couldn't move. The scent of rotten eggs filled the air as her mom poured the gasoline on the steps and Emma sloshed it against the shack, Gaines's gaze never leaving them.

When he seemed satisfied that there wasn't another drop left in the cans, grim-faced, Gaines took out a lighter.

“Don't do this,” Allie called to him. “You don't have to do this.”

“You got out of prison and ruined my life.” He raised his voice. “Ten years ago, Coach died. Now my wife is gone.” He let out an anguished cry. “I don't have anything to live for.”

“But you do,” Allie argued with a glance at Emma.

“No,” Gaines shot back. “Don't play games with me.”

Caroline peered through the leaves and could see her mother's lips pressed tightly together. Why wasn't Emma saying anything? Why wasn't she helping? Her aunt's face had turned ghostly white. Emma's usually bright eyes were clouded over.

“A whole county voted you into office,” Allied added. “The
people
elected you.”

“You don't care,” Gaines snapped back. “You hate me.”

“You destroyed my life.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I was going to medical school. I was ready to work hard and save lives. I had my daughter to take care of.”

Caroline was so consumed with the exchange that Russell had to take her hand and squeeze it to get her attention. He pointed at his phone and mouthed 9-1-1. Russell typed a message, hit Send, then turned the screen so that Caroline could see. The text was to Natalie, with the address, a mention of Gaines, Emma, Allie, and the gun, and
CALL 9-1-1.

“We've been through all of this before, haven't we, Sheriff?” Allie said.

Caroline stiffened. What was her mother talking about?

“Paying personal visits to people at all hours of the night. Making accusations when, in fact, you're equally culpable for everything that happened,” Allie added.

“That's bull,” the sheriff blustered. “This”—he waved at the cabin—“all of this was not my idea.”

“But you didn't end it, did you?” Allie replied, standing up as straight as she could. “You fanned the fire. You took my editorial—about this place, about Coach Thomas beating those boys—and you acted like I'd accused you of genocide.”

The sheriff stared at Allie. “This ends now,” he growled.

“It could have ended a long time ago,” Allie said. “You could have turned
yourself
in.”

“What in the hell for?” Gaines snapped. He took a menacing step toward her, then stopped.

“You were there,” Allie retorted. “That night with the coach—”

“No,” Gaines interrupted, “I was
never
there with the coach until after we found you. Then I took care of June.”