Crash & Burn (Tessa Leoni, #3)(88)

“Ma’am, please.” Wyatt hastily inserted himself between the two women. He had to forcefully pry Marlene’s fingers from Nicky’s wrist.

The older woman turned on him. “What kind of sick game is this? You told me you had found my daughter. You said you had proof!”

“We have fingerprints, Mrs. Bilek. Fingerprints that match your daughter’s—”

“But she’s not Vero! She doesn’t have the scar. Vero has a scar—”

“Okay, okay. Everyone, deep breath. Let’s take a step back for a second.”

Wyatt got Marlene to one side of the room, Nicky to the other. Marlene appeared nearly wild-eyed with grief, rage, betrayal. Nicky simply looked bewildered. And she was already rubbing her temples, a telltale sign of an impending migraine. Wyatt could feel a killer headache coming on himself, and he hadn’t even suffered three concussions.

Tessa took over Nicky, helping the woman into one of the wooden chairs to one side of the room, while Wyatt positioned Marlene Bilek in a chair on the other side. Tessa retrieved cold bottles of water from the mini-fridge. She handed the first to Nicky, the second to Marlene.

Both women took a long drink.

Wyatt used the minute to regain his own composure. It was creepy to him, but watching the two women, sitting in one hotel room, not just their similar coloring, but the way they moved, the way they held themselves. He could believe they were mother and daughter, no problem.

Except according to Marlene Bilek, that was impossible.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” he said, after another moment had passed. He turned to Marlene. “You’re saying Veronica has a scar.”

“Left inside forearm. Right below the elbow. Two to three inches long. From the coffee table.”

“Ronnie threw her into it,” Nicky intoned. “Picked her up. Vero was just a little girl and he tossed her into the wooden table like a piece of trash. The table broke. One of the legs gouged her arm.”

“How do you know that?” Marlene demanded.

“Vero wants to fly,” Nicky whispered. “She just wanted to fly. How could you stay with him? How could you let her suffer like that?”

Marlene paled. She didn’t say another word.

“You’re sure about the scar?” Wyatt asked again. He couldn’t help himself. Vero couldn’t have a scar. Because if Vero had a scar, none of this made any sense.

“Check the missing persons report,” Marlene informed him crisply. “It’s listed under identifying marks.”

Tessa did the honors. She pulled her copy of the report from her computer bag, gave it a quick perusal. When she glanced back up, Wyatt saw the answer in her eyes. She nodded once, an affirmation that, yes, they had passed into the land of crazy.

He turned to Nicky. “Who are you?”

“I’m lost. No one wanted me, even before the dollhouse. No one loved me, even before the dollhouse.”

“You’re Chelsea,” Wyatt put the pieces together. “You’re the roommate.” He thought he got it: “Who killed Vero in order to escape.”

“Except I’ve been trying to save her for the past twenty-two years.”

Wyatt shot a glance at Tessa. She’d tried to warn him there had to be a reason Nicky had buried her past. This sounded good enough to him.

“Chelsea—”

“Nicky.”

“Nicky. Did Vero die that night?”

“There is only one way out of the dollhouse.”

“Are you sure?” he asked carefully, aware of Marlene Bilek’s sharp intake of breath.

Nicky didn’t answer. The anguished look on her face was proof enough.

“Then how did her fingerprints wind up in your car?”

“She didn’t die!” Marlene picked up immediately, leaning forward in her chair. “She was with you! You’ve seen my daughter. You know where she is.”

Wyatt turned to Nicky. She was frowning, scrubbing at her forehead again. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Just . . . shhh . . .”

“Are you all right?” he asked her cautiously.

“She’s laughing at me. I hate it when she’s in this mood. I wish she would put on clothes. Or at least skin.”

Wyatt and Tessa exchanged another glance.

“Nicky,” he commanded briskly. “Wednesday night. You’re in your car. You’re driving to the New Hampshire state liquor store. You came to see Marlene Bilek, Vero’s long-lost mother. Who is with you?”

Nicky opened her eyes. She appeared miserable, but not misleading. “Vero’s with me. She’s always with me. But not like you think.”

“You’re looking for her.”

“Always.”

“You want to keep her safe. You failed her once, and now you’re stuck trying to get it right.”

“Yes!”

“Nicky,” Wyatt took her hand, held it between his own. Her fingers were ice-cold, in sharp contrast to the beads of sweat forming on her brow. They didn’t have much time left, he realized. Regardless of his concerns about the rest of the case, Nicky’s concussions were real enough, and the stress of the situation was taking its toll. Any minute now, she’d be hammer-smacked by a migraine, and that would be that.

“Once and for all, did Veronica Sellers, did your friend, your roommate, make it out of the dollhouse?”