Pretty Girls Dancing(85)
“This was found with the body.” The man held up the baggie for them to see. David stared at the necklace inside the clear bag, the agony of recognition clawing bloody furrows across his mind. A crystal blue butterfly on a silver chain. Just like the ones his wife had bought the girls for Christmas, a lifetime ago. Just like the one Kelsey had been wearing when she’d disappeared.
Claire’s scream echoed in the room. Streaked down David’s spine, scraping nerve endings that were already raw. He stared at what was left of his daughter. His arms shot out to catch his wife just as she crumpled. Then he turned them both away from the sight that would inevitably haunt his dreams.
“That’s Kelsey.” His voice was thick was unshed tears. Kelsey, the way no parent should ever have to see their daughter. Claire’s wails reverberated in the area, a constant stream of grief that hinted at an oncoming breakdown. He guided her from the room, saying over his shoulder, “My wife is going to require a doctor.”
David slowly made his way down the stairs, placing one foot in front of the other like an automaton. Claire was asleep, thanks to the sedative the doctor had given her at the hospital. There’d be follow-up visits required, the man had gravely informed David. Perhaps a complete workup with a mental-health professional, given her past history and the current trauma.
He’d nodded, although in truth, he’d barely listened to the man. His mind had been filled with memories of his daughter. A tiny, twisting body that had defied his efforts to dress her in the little rompers and dresses Claire had bought. An attractive toddler, with an outgoing personality and a penchant for getting her own way. A budding beauty in her teenage years, alternating between youthful exuberance and the drama of puberty.
A stranger, with contempt in her gaze hurling insults and accusations. Making demands he never should have met.
He wondered if other parents who’d lost a child had this hole inside them where all their regrets lived. Every cross word uttered. Every moment they’d let their child’s chatter slide over them, by them, without really listening. All the wrong decisions made. Each failure that could never be undone. Sometimes at night they rushed forth to swamp him, strangling him with remorse.
His step faltered on the final tread when he noticed Mark seated in the living room. He’d almost forgotten the man had followed him into the house. Helped him get Claire’s near-comatose body upstairs. The agent looked up at his approach. Put away the cell he’d been texting on as he rose.
“How’s your wife?”
David flushed. It hadn’t been just Claire that had kept him upstairs, but the single frantic phone call he’d made to his attorney. “She’ll sleep for several hours. That’s probably best.” Best. As if that were a word that could be applied to either of them right now. “Thanks for helping with her. I have to tell Janie . . .” A boulder lodged in his throat at the thought. He took a breath and tried again. “She’s at work until seven. I don’t know if I should call and have her come home sooner . . . but what’s the point of that, right? Why ruin her world before I have to?” A sudden thought occurred. “Unless . . . there’s no way this news would get out, is there? I don’t want to chance her hearing about it because someone leaked the information.”
Mark regarded him somberly. “I’m not claiming a leak couldn’t happen. I don’t think it will, but if I were you, I’d have your daughter come home as soon as possible, just in case.”
Nodding jerkily, David realized the horror of the day wasn’t over. Not nearly. “I’ll do that.”
“I want to offer my sympathy again, Mr. Willard. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
David grimaced. “Not unless you can undo the last forty-eight hours.”
“I wish I could. I’ll talk to you soon, when I have updates.”
He nodded wearily. They always promised that. But the updates wouldn’t change anything. They wouldn’t bring Kelsey back.
“God, David, I’m sorry. I replayed our conversation in my head all the way over here.” Brant Strickland unbuttoned his coat, sat down on the leather recliner in the family room. “What a shitty, shitty day. I’d always hoped, like you and Claire did, that Kelsey would be found safely. What can I do? How can I help?”
Funny, Mark had made a similar offer minutes ago. But the attorney was in a much better position to assist him than the law was. “You can advise me on how to proceed from here.” David pulled a canister of Scotch from a cabinet in the entertainment center and took out two glasses. Poured a healthy splash into both of them. Crossing to where the other man sat, he handed him one. “I can get ice.”
“This is fine.” Brant took the glass, watching him carefully.
David took a gulp, his eyes watering. Then another. “Janie’s on her way home, so I have to make this quick. I told you that the body . . .” His eyes filled, and he choked on the word. “Kelsey’s body was found in the basement of that empty lake house.”
“On Fuller Road, yes. I can’t wrap my head around it. To have her so near all this time.” Brant shook his head and raised the glass to his lips.
“They’ll tear the place apart. Do their forensic testing. Dust for fingerprints.” He saw the arrested look on the other man’s face. Met his gaze squarely. “My prints are going to be there, Brant. I mean, I assume so. I don’t know how long they last, but . . .” He finished the Scotch. Wished the liquor could erase the heart-crushing trauma of the day. “I was there a few times about seven years ago.”