Sleepwalker (Nightwatcher #2)(54)

She quickly wipes her eyes and gets off the couch, making her way to the front hall just as Hudson and Madison descend. They each carry a backpack and a favorite doll, trailed by Randi, who’s toting the monogrammed quilted Vera Bradley overnight bags she gave them one Christmas. Maddy’s is a floral pastel print, Huddy’s, a bright yellow paisley.

In the moment before they spot Allison, the girls appear worried and vulnerable. But when they catch sight of her waiting at the bottom of the stairs, they simultaneously paste on brave smiles that tug at her heart and make her want to cry all over again.

They’re protecting me, she realizes. They know I’m upset, and they don’t want me to know that they are, too.

She’d told her daughters only that Mrs. Lewis died. They were shocked and horrified, of course, and Hudson immediately wanted to know what had happened.

Allison’s gut instinct was to shield the girls from the awfulness; she lied and said she wasn’t sure.

“I think it probably would have been better to just tell them the truth,” Mack said when he got home.

Nerves frazzled, she snapped something about his not having been here to decide how to handle it.

“I’m sorry,” Mack snapped back, “I was at work.”

“I’m sorry,” Allison told him quickly, and sincerely. “I’m just upset.”

Mack pulled her close and stroked her hair, telling her he couldn’t bear to think about what she must have seen inside the Lewis house.

Allison can’t bear to think of it, either, yet she hasn’t been able to stop.

“We’ve got all our stuff,” Hudson announces.

“And she means all their stuff.” Good-natured Randi pretends to stagger under the weight of the bags, making the girls giggle and Allison smile with gratitude.

Thank goodness for Randi, who came immediately when Allison called to tell her what happened.

“I’ll take the girls home with me to spend the night. No arguments,” she’d said, though Allison wasn’t about to argue. She wanted them out of here as soon as possible.

Randi would have taken J.J. with her, too, but Allison was afraid to let him go. It’s not that Randi isn’t an attentive mother, and it’s not that she doesn’t have her au pair right there to help, but . . .

No one can possibly understand what a handful her son can be. Allison would never forgive herself if something happened to J.J. because she let him out of her sight.

It’s hard enough letting the girls leave—though of course she knows that they can’t stay here; not with cops and reporters and ghoulish onlookers encamped just beyond the front door.

“Be good,” she tells her daughters with a lump in her throat, pulling them close, one at a time, for a hug and a kiss. “And make sure you help Aunt Randi around the house.”

“We’re going to make cookies with Lexi,” Madison says excitedly.

“She has a bake sale tomorrow at school,” Hudson puts in. “Right, Aunt Randi? Because her school doesn’t have laws against treats like ours does.”

Both of Randi’s kids go to private schools, where they’re apparently not as vigilant about healthy snacks.

Was it only a couple of days ago that Allison was irritated about the baby carrots that were served at the Halloween party in Hudson’s classroom? If only that were the biggest worry on her mind right now.

“Where’s Daddy?” Madison asks her. “We have to say good-bye.”

“In the kitchen. J.J. was fussing so he went to get him some milk.”

“My brother fusses a lot,” Hudson informs Randi, as if she didn’t know.

“Mack!” Allison calls. “Come say good-bye. The girls are going.”

He comes in carrying J.J., who is furiously sucking on a plastic sippy cup.

As the girls give hugs and kisses to their father and brother—who bonks Madison in the head with his sippy cup—Allison reminds Randi, in a low voice, that they don’t know what happened next door. “If you can keep them from finding out . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Randi says, “I’ll keep them busy and distracted. You and Mack come over with J.J. when you’re finished here. You know we have plenty of room for all of you in the guest suite.”

“I don’t know . . . J.J. would need a crib, and—”

“Ben will run out and buy a portable one.”

“That’s crazy.”

“You’re crazy, Allison, if you think you’re going to be able to sleep here after what happened. You’re going to lie awake all night afraid he’s going to come after you next.”

Randi is probably right about that. But Allison doubts she’ll be able to sleep anywhere after what happened.

What happened . . .

Phyllis . . .

No! Don’t let yourself think about that right now! Not while you’re with the girls!

“I think I’d better stick around here for now,” she tells Randi. “The police said they’re going to need to talk to me again.” And she knows how that goes, having once before been a key witness in a murder investigation. “It could be tonight, or it could be tomorrow—I have no idea what’s going to happen or when.”

“Do you want me to send Ben over? I called him at work after you called me and he left right away—he’s on the train right now.”