Pretty Girls Dancing(30)

Breckenridge. Of course, she remembered now. They’d tried Vale and Aspen. David and Janie had wanted to try somewhere different. “We may as well buy you new.” She managed a smile for her daughter. “You can start looking online, but you’ll have to hurry in order to get it delivered in time.” Shopping was something Claire had once adored, but Janie had never been a fan of going store to store, browsing. Overly pushy sales clerks could send her daughter’s social anxiety into overdrive.

“Okay.” Rising, Janie started to collect the dishes. “I’ll clean up, Mom.”

“No, you go ahead.” Claire shooed her away. “There isn’t much, and afterward I’m going to watch a little TV until your dad gets home.” The chore would give her something tangible to focus on.

As her daughter left the room, Claire quickly cleared the table and carried dishes to the kitchen. Her inability to remember where they were heading to ski had rattled her more than a little. That was happening more and more frequently these days. That, and the time slipping away from her. How much had she drunk today? Not much, she concluded as she loaded the dishes in the dishwasher. She was always careful about drinking when she took the pills, and she’d taken two of those today. Or was it three?

The mental question had her sagging against the counter. When had she become so weak? So dependent? The easy answer lay in Kelsey’s disappearance, but with a rare flash of self-honesty, Claire knew it had begun far sooner. She’d always been the strong one in her family. Capable. She’d needed to be after her father left, with her mother working all the time to support Claire and her two younger brothers. She’d been in charge of meals and babysitting the boys. Bath time, homework, laundry, packing lunches . . . it had all fallen to Claire. And she’d handled it along with high school and junior college with an ease she envied now.

David had seemed like a white knight when she met him. Strong and confident. So sure of his place in the world. And so attentive. After years of being the caretaker, maybe she’d enjoyed being pampered a bit. She’d worked right up until the time she’d had Kelsey, but David had suggested she not go back to her job afterward. They hadn’t needed the extra income by then, and Claire had been all too happy to immerse herself into making a home for them. The part-time nanny had been a present that Christmas, so she could have some time to herself and with her friends. The bigger house and Marta had come later. And with each new acquisition, there had been less and less for which Claire had to be responsible.

Maybe that had started the slow leak of her former independence. And at the time when she’d most needed strength, she’d found her reservoir nearly depleted. She pushed away from the counter, angered at the thought, slammed the dishwasher closed, and crossed to the oven. When Kelsey had vanished, she’d leaned on David. That had been natural, hadn’t it? But he’d been able to draw on the well of resolve he’d always possessed, while she’d been left clinging to the remnants of who she used to be.

The roast looked lovely; the glaze she’d added was browning the top nicely. Claire covered it again and busied herself tidying up the kitchen, trying—and failing—to silence the thoughts buzzing in her head like angry little bees.

She wasn’t proud of who she’d become since Kelsey had disappeared. Any more than she was proud of lying to her daughter this evening. For years, she’d been dodging the memory of that envelope. And when she couldn’t avoid it, she convinced herself she’d done the right thing at the time.

Finally, out of things to clean, Claire carefully folded the damp dishcloth she’d been using over the faucet. There were times, blessedly infrequent, when she couldn’t avoid second-guessing herself. Couldn’t evade the one nagging question that had never gone away.

What would have happened if she had been completely honest with the investigators?





David Willard

November 6

6:48 p.m.

“Agent Foster.” David let the man in the rear entrance to the office building, his gaze going over the agent’s shoulder to scan the darkened back lot. It was vacant, save the two vans that would belong to the cleaning crew. The sight had a measure of tension seeping from his muscles. “I appreciate your flexibility. I don’t imagine you normally keep these kinds of hours.”

Mark stepped inside and gave a slight shake, sending drops from the light mist falling outside flying from his leather jacket. He followed David through the dimmed lobby to the bank of elevators. “You keep late hours yourself, especially for a Friday night.”

“Hazard of the job.” David managed a tight smile as they walked into the elevator and turned as the doors closed noiselessly.

They rode up to the fifth floor in silence. Once they stepped out of the elevator, Mark looked around. “Nice place.”

“We just had our offices renovated last year.” David led him past the front desk, through his darkened outer area, past Traci’s space and into his office. He immediately regretted inviting the man here. His presence tainted the space. Awakened memories of Kelsey’s investigation—memories he’d sought to bury. But he’d had no choice. The man wouldn’t be put off. “Almost makes up for the hours I have to keep sometimes. Something to drink?” He crossed to the mini fridge.

“I’ll take a water. Thanks.” David could hear the man moving around the room as he withdrew two bottles from the fridge. When he rose and turned around, he found the agent studying the long, polished mahogany table, littered with the products of his current project. “Here you go.” He crossed to Mark and handed him a bottle, then led him to the couch and chairs near the windows.