The Book of Cold Cases(87)

Still, she’d never seen it. She didn’t know if she was seeing it now, whether this was real or she was losing her mind. She wasn’t sure she cared.

After a while, she turned away from the kitchen and walked upstairs. The door to the master bedroom was open. Standing in front of Mariana’s open closet, her back to Beth as she looked through the clothes, was Lily.

Beth was definitely seeing this. She knew that.

Lily was wearing a silk kimono that fell to her knees, the fabric covered in gaudy pink and purple flowers. Her blond hair flowed down her back. Her legs beneath the hem of the kimono were bare, and Beth could tell she was naked underneath it. In the en suite bathroom, the water ran in the tub. The kimono was one of Mariana’s.

“Our mother had such beautiful clothes,” Lily said to Beth without turning. “Most of them fit me, you know. I think I’m going to wear them.”

“What are you doing?” Beth choked out. Even though she had known this would happen, had expected it—she’d baited Lily to come find her—it was still shocking to see Lily in this bedroom, wearing Mariana’s clothes. She really doesn’t care, Beth thought. She really doesn’t think I’ll do anything.

“I’m taking a bath.” Lily turned and looked at her. Her face had that curious blank look that Beth had long ago learned to be afraid of. “I live in this house now.”

The sight of Lily after all this time was hard to take. She looked like Mariana, like Beth, like herself. Beth knew every line of that face, from childhood to adulthood. She had loved that face and been terrified of it. She’d had nightmares over the years that Lily was dead, her body unidentified in a hospital somewhere. She’d also had nightmares about Lily coming home. She didn’t know which was more frightening.

And now Lily was standing here, naked in Mariana’s robe, and part of Beth wanted to scream and run, to forget everything she’d planned. Another part felt like all of her pieces were falling into place at last, like for the past months she’d been a doll who wasn’t put together properly. She knew Lily like she knew her own heart.

There was only one way out of this. Only one way forward. She’d known it since she’d sat in a cell, watching Detective Black walk away.

“You can’t live in my house,” she said through numb lips.

“It’ll be my house,” Lily said. “You’re out of prison now. You’ll sign this place over to me, and it’ll be mine.”

“No.”

Lily’s voice was flat. “You have no choice, Beth.”

Just do what she says. The instinct was so old it was automatic. Do what Lily says, and she won’t get mad. But this time Beth fought it. “And where am I supposed to go?” She had a flash of leaving here, walking out the door. She could go anywhere, and she would be free. She could pretend, as she had so many times, that Lily didn’t exist anymore.

And in the meantime, Lily would go back to killing. She always did.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Lily said. “You stay here with me. That murder trial bullshit is over—it was fun for a while, but now we can move on. You and me, in this house. Kind of like that first Christmas.” She took a step toward Beth, and even though she was almost naked, it seemed threatening. Beth tried not to flinch. “We’re sisters,” Lily said. “Two halves of the same person.”

We’re not, Beth wanted to say, furious that what she’d just been through had been reduced to “murder trial bullshit.” But the old instincts bubbled up again, persistent. When Lily was in this mood—when Lily was in most moods, honestly—it was best to placate her. But you had to do it so she wouldn’t see through it. “I just got out,” Beth said, putting a note of weakness in her voice. “I don’t know what to do. I haven’t thought about it.”

“You’ll do what I tell you,” Lily said. “I’m done being half a person. I’m done being the girl who doesn’t exist. This house is mine. And if you want to stay out of trouble, then you’re mine, too.”

Beth pictured spending the rest of her life here, doing whatever Lily wanted her to do. There would be blood on her hands sooner or later. Lily wouldn’t want to keep doing her killings alone. “I know what you did,” she said, trying not to panic. “Those two men. And before that—Lawrence Gage, was that his name? He was your father, and you killed him, too.”

There was a quick second in which Lily was surprised, that unpleasant surprise that Beth had seen on her face only once before. Then she figured it out. “The lawyer,” she said.

“He knows who your father was. Lawrence Gage’s murder was in the papers, and Ransom showed me.” She took a step closer to her sister, the words pouring out. “You broke in and shot him, just like you did to my father. To Julian.” It was hard to say her father’s name, and she shuddered, thinking of what she’d just seen in the kitchen. She made herself say it again. “You killed Julian.”

Lily was utterly calm, watching her. “You wanted me to,” she said. “He was going to make you marry that boy. He didn’t love you like you wanted. When it was over, Beth, you never said a word. Not to Mariana, not even to your precious cop. You didn’t tell anyone. Just like you did nothing that night when you watched Mariana get into her car.”