The Final Victim(45)

"He won't."

"He will if I tell him that's the only way he gets to see you," Charlotte says with more conviction than she feels.

She'd be willing to bet Vince isn't just here to see Lianna this weekend. He probably has some kind of real estate business in the area. He's been involved the last couple of years in flipping houses down in Florida-another of his get-rich-quick schemes, no doubt, but one that might actually have some merit "Can I call him instead?" Lianna asks, and adds, "Since talking to you won't put him in a good mood."

You just had to get in another dig, didn't you? Charlotte thinks wearily.

"You can call him, but remember what I told you. You aren't to leave this house, Lianna. Not for any reason."

"I know." Lianna seems to choke on her next words: "And you don't care if that means I don't get to see my dad."

Struck by a sudden hint of vulnerability in her daughter's tone, Charlotte longs to take Lianna into her arms and rock her, the way she used to. She can't help but notice that she looks like a little girl again, sitting there in shorty pink pajamas, her hair tousled and her face puffy with sleep.

It's almost enough to make her relent, just this once, about the grounding.

Then Lianna sees her mother looking at her, her expression hardens, and the moment is gone.

Charlotte turns to leave the room, stepping over several magazines, a pair of sneakers, and one pink flip-flop.

"Nydia will be around if you need anything," she tells Lianna. "And she knows you're grounded, so don't try to pull anything."

Her cousins might be around, too, but she wouldn't know their plans, and she wouldn't expect them to keep an eye on her daughter. They've given her a wide berth, and vice versa, ever since the confrontation in the lawyer's office.

Royce is incredulous when he comes home at night, asks whether she's had any contact with them, and is told that she hasn't "They're living under this roof, for God's sake, Charlotte. How can you not interact with them?"

"It's a big house," she pointed out "Aunt Jeanne lives here, too… How often do we see her?"

"That's different. She's an invalid. But your cousins-I just can't believe y'all have managed to avoid each other completely."

"Considering that we all share the same goal-stay the hell out of each other's way-it isn't all that difficult Royce."

Plus, they're all on completely different schedules. Phyllida and her family are still on West Coast time, so they sleep late and stay up late, while Charlotte tends to do the opposite. Gib might live in the same time zone, but he seems to be on his own laid-back inner clock. Anyway, he's gone a lot doing God knows what Probably out in the clubs, prowling for women, if history serves.

Charlotte has made little headway in figuring out why Grandaddy disinherited them-in part because of what's gone on with Lianna.

But it will be her first priority just as soon as things settle down enough so that she can think straight and start looking more closely into Grandaddy's papers.

"Where are you going?" Lianna calls after her as she opens the door to the hall.

To Savannah with Royce, to take care of some things with the house. We'll be back later tonight And make sure you clean up this mess."

"I said I will."

"And Lianna?" Charlotte pauses with her hand still on the knob, one foot in the hallway.

"Yeah?"

"If your dad does come over today, have a good time with him."

Silence from Lianna.

Then, "He won't come."

No. He won't.

I'm sorry, Charlotte silently tells her daughter, and closes die door quietly behind her.

Alone at her third-floor window, Jeanne watches Melanie drive away, just as Charlotte and Royce did earlier, following the separate departures of Gib, and Phyllida's husband and son.

Earlier, Jeanne strategically complained of an upset stomach and asked if there was any ginger ale in the house.

Melanie checked. Surprise, surprise: there wasn't.

"Do you want me to go out and buy some for you, Jeanne?"

"No, don't go to all that trouble. If I still don't feel good tomorrow, you can bring some then."

"It's no trouble. And I won't be here tomorrow, so here's your big chance." She smiles cheerfully.

"You won't be here tomorrow?"

"It's a Sunday," Melanie reminds her gently. "I don't come on Sundays, remember?"

"Oh. Well, it's all right. I don't want to make you go out in the heat."

"Come on, Jeanne… Your wish is my command."

"Really?" Jeanne asked.

"Really. You know I'd do anything for you, hon."

If Jeanne had any doubt about that, it's been erased.

And if ever she needed that crucial assurance, it's now.

So Melanie left, leaving Jeanne alone in the house with just Nydia, Lianna, and Phyllida-and she hasn't heard any of them stirring below for quite a while.

Now is the time.

She rolls her wheelchair over to the door, expertly steering around the obstacle course of furniture that has found its way up here over the years, just as if it was still an attic.