The Silent Sister(38)

Her father checked her car with his flashlight to make sure she hadn’t left anything incriminating inside. She took the bag with the towel and empty box of hair dye, but left her backpack in the car, as they’d planned. Her driver’s license, her wallet with the pictures of Riley and Danny and Matty—everything was left behind in the backpack. Then her father took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders and they trudged through the thick woods to get back to his car. They could have walked along the road, but he said he was worried about tracks, even though the way the snow was coming down now she thought they’d be okay.

By the time they got back to his car, they were both freezing. He turned on the heat and she took off her wet gloves and held her hands in front of the vent.

“Has to be the coldest night of the year,” her father said.

“You have a jacket for me, right?” she asked.

“It’s in the backseat.”

She turned to look in the backseat, but it was too dark. “And a new backpack?” She worried he might have forgotten something. There was so much to remember.

“No backpack. You have a new purse. It’s with the jacket.”

“A purse? Daddy, you know I never carry a purse.”

“Lisa never carried a purse,” he said. “Ann Johnson does.” She was Ann Johnson in all her new documents.

She started to unfasten her seat belt to reach behind her for the purse and jacket, but he put a hand out to stop her. “Wait till we have some light,” he said. “I want to get away from here.” He began carefully backing the car out of the narrow lane. It took forever, and by the time they were again on the parkway and he put his lights on, she was horrified to see that the dashboard clock read two-thirty.

“You’re not going to have time to drive me to Philly and be back home by morning!” she said. That had been the plan, and it was already falling apart. He needed to “discover” she was missing in the morning. He was supposed to go to her room to make sure she was up and ready for her nine o’clock appointment with the attorney, and he’d find her gone and the note in her place.

“We’re okay,” he said calmly. “I’m not taking you all the way to Philadelphia.” He glanced at her, but it was too dark to read his face. “Don’t panic,” he said.

“What do you mean, you’re not taking me to Philly? I’m supposed to be on that eight o’clock train!”

“You will be. Don’t worry.”

“How?” He was really scaring her.

“Now listen. You remember a man I work with? Tom Kyle?”

“I have no idea who that is!” She knew she’d met a man with that name somewhere, but she was too upset to admit it to her father.

“Well, you’ll probably recognize him. We’re meeting him at the rest stop on 95 and he’ll drive you to Philly.”

She felt ice run through her body. “He knows?” she asked. “You told him? You said absolutely no one! Tell absolutely no one. That’s what you said. You—”

“Stop it.” He stared straight ahead at the road. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. Tom will keep his mouth shut.”

“How can you be so sure? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have—”

“Lisa!” he shouted, shutting her up. “It’s set, all right? I promise you. I absolutely guarantee you. You’ll be safe.”

She went quiet. She’d never liked it when he yelled at her. He was a soft-spoken, calm person, and those rare times he yelled shook her up.

He turned onto the Beltway and they didn’t speak for half an hour, not until he’d exited onto 95. Then he suddenly broke the silence.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what you’ve done,” he said.

He would always believe she was a murderer. Tears clogged her throat. The truth or a lie, she knew it didn’t matter to him. Her parents would love her regardless of anything she’d done. She’d tested their love to the limit during her lifetime.

They came to the first rest stop and he pulled off 95 and into the empty parking lot.

“He’s not here.” She stated the obvious.

“He will be.” He left the car running so they’d have heat and could use the wipers to keep the windshield clear. “Let me see your hair,” he said.

He turned on the overhead light to look at her as she pulled off her hat. He rubbed his hand over his chin. “Maybe we should have gone with the wig.” He sounded nervous. “Wear your hat as much as you can and stick to yourself on the train. Your picture’s been all over the news for months.” He pointed to the bag on the floor by her feet. “Give me the bag,” he said, and she handed it to him.

She watched as he got out of the car, walked through the few inches of snow, and tossed the bag in the trash can by the brick building that housed the restrooms. She was tempted to lower the visor mirror to look at her hair again, but decided not to depress herself any more than she already was. She’d had long pale blond hair all her life. She wasn’t going to like the girl she was becoming.

Daddy shook off the snow and got back in the car, looking at his watch. Then he reached into the seat behind him and grabbed the jacket and purse, handing them to her. In the overhead light, she saw that the purse wasn’t new at all. It was some thrift shop thing and nothing she’d ever buy for herself, but she wrapped her hand around the straps, trying to get used to the feel of them. She’d never owned a purse and her shoulder already missed the thick strap of her backpack.