Lovely Girls(77)

“I know. That’s not why I wanted you to see it,” Alex said.

“Okay. Why then?”

“Callie and Shae know I made a video of them killing Callie,” Alex said. “I told them I did. They might come after me.”

I considered this. It sounded dramatic, the idea that these two lip-glossed and ponytailed suburban teenage girls would be a physical threat to Alex. But after seeing the video of Daphne and Shae drowning Callie, I understood my daughter’s concern.

“We need to go to the police station. You’re not going to be safe until the police have that video.”

“That detective said they might be able to retrieve the data off of my phone and tablet,” Alex pointed out.

“I suppose it’s possible, but we can’t count on that.” I frowned as something occurred to me. “Why did you erase everything? Were you trying to protect Daphne and Shae for some reason?”

“No way.” Alex shook her head. “That wasn’t why. At first, I was just going to delete the video I took of Daphne and Coach having sex, because I was afraid it would get traced back to me. I was worried I’d get in trouble for having taken it. But then I realized there’s a lot of other private stuff in my video diary. Things I don’t want anyone to listen to. Not the police, not you, not anyone. The entire point was that I was supposed to be able to say what I was feeling in the moment, no matter what it was.” Alex’s eyes filled with tears. “Sometimes it wasn’t very nice. Everyone who sees it is going to think I’m a terrible person.”

It reminded me of the constant worry I had that my bad thoughts made me a bad person. Maybe Joe was right . . . maybe everyone had dark thoughts. The important thing was not acting on them.

I reached over and squeezed Alex’s hand. “You’re going to find out that one of the nicer parts about getting older is that you stop caring so much about what people think. Or so they tell me.”

Alex smiled faintly. “Can I speed up to that part?”

“Don’t wish away time,” I said. “No matter how hard it is right now. It passes by quickly enough on its own.”

I couldn’t help remembering Ingrid’s doctoral thesis, arguing that we should teach our daughters to stop being people pleasers. To teach them how to be bold and ruthless. To fearlessly take up room. And looking at my worried, tearful daughter, I wanted all those things for Alex.

Just not how Genevieve had gone about it. She had taught Daphne about power and domination but had neglected to temper those lessons with the importance of grace and kindness. By doing so, she had, day by day, year by year, turned Daphne into a monster. The sort of girl who takes what she wants, no matter whom she destroys in the process. And Ingrid and Emma had allowed Daphne influence over their daughters, even though they must have had some idea how poisonous she was.

And now one girl was dead, and two others were most likely going to jail, probably for the better part of the rest of their lives. Three futures were gone, just like that. Daphne and Shae were certainly guilty. But what would happen to Genevieve, Emma, and Ingrid? Didn’t they share some of the blame for the death? For the part they played in destroying three lives?

“Alex, I really think we should get going.” My nerves were jangling, and I instinctively knew we needed to act quickly. I stood and looked around for my handbag before remembering I’d left it by the front door.

“Do you think we’ll be at the police station for a long time?”

“Yes, I imagine they’re going to have questions,” I said.

“I’m going to go up to my room and grab a hoodie. It was freezing in there earlier.”

I nodded. “Good idea. Will you get me a sweater too? My black cardigan is on the back of the chair in my room.”

Alex ran up the stairs, and I headed into the kitchen to get us each a bottle of water from the fridge. And then I stopped suddenly and gasped.

Emma was standing in the middle of our kitchen. She was dressed for yoga class in a long light-pink tank top and cropped black leggings. Her long wavy hair was loose around her shoulders. But something was off. Her face was oddly blank, with the exception of her eyes. They were unusually bright.

She raised her hand, and I saw it then. A flash of metal that made my entire body go cold.

Emma was holding a knife.





CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN




* * *





KATE

“Emma?” I asked, staring at the knife in her hand. It was long and sharp looking and not one that I recognized. She must have brought it with her. “What are you doing here? Why are you in my house? How did you even get in here?”

But even as I asked this last question, I glanced at the back door. I must have forgotten to lock it earlier after I’d gone out to water the pots of flowers on the back patio. Before we went to the police station.

“Where’s Alex? I need to see her. Now,” Emma demanded.

She was standing just next to the kitchen table where I’d sat with her two days earlier, drinking a glass of wine. On that visit, she’d been pretending we were still friends. That pretense was clearly over.

“She’s not here,” I said automatically, hoping that Alex would sense the danger and stay upstairs.

“Bullshit. I just heard her voice. I heard the two of you talking.” Emma raised the hand holding the knife so that the sharp tip was pointing straight at me. “I don’t want to hurt you, Kate. But I will if I have to.”