Stone Cold Fox (97)

No, I couldn’t go through with it in the end.

No, I couldn’t go to Mother, like I had always done before. I couldn’t be like her, not after all this time, after all this work. I would have to try to protect myself and my family, even with the looming possibility of losing everything. I was going to face what I had done in my life, all of it, and I hoped and prayed that Collin would still be on my side. He was my only chance. I didn’t want to start over again. I didn’t love him, but I chose Bea Case with my whole heart and now I loved her.

I hoped I could keep her.

I hoped Collin would want to keep both of us, too.

“Hold on a sec, babe,” Collin said, looking at the screen on his phone. I couldn’t have stood up out of bed if I tried; I felt my whole body going limp, like I was melting. Dear God. I was going to be one of those women who gave birth in prison, wasn’t I? I felt ill, bile forming in my throat. I swallowed it back down.

“But, Collin, I—”

He answered the phone and I wanted to scream, was going to scream, until I heard him speak.

“Calliope?” Collin said. “Is everything okay?”

Calliope Case was awake at 7:30 a.m. on a Monday morning? I would have answered swiftly as well. Something was up, that much was clear.

Collin’s face fell, grave and serious. I managed to sit up in bed, my senses coming back, this time on high alert. Survival mode yet again. Instincts kicking in. I needed my wits about me, to be quick on my feet if needed, sly and cunning, how would I grapple with this if she had gotten to him first? Had Gale gone right to the Cases before Collin? That would be a move out of her playbook. What with the legacy. The dynasty. The families. The Cases would believe her without question, particularly if she had hard evidence of our crimes and our past. They had been waiting for a reason to banish me from the family. They would alert the appropriate authorities to put me away for years on end, perhaps the entirety of my remaining hot years, and all Collin would do is watch me go, standing idly by as the love of his life was ripped from his bedroom, crying and begging him to pay for my legal fees, for the sake of his child.

Silence hung in the air. I could hear the coffee machine percolating downstairs. Was this the last time I’d smell freshly made coffee in this house? Or any house at all?

Collin hung up the phone, still rendered speechless as he sat back down on the bed.

“I can explain,” I started, all memories of my rehearsal had flown right out the window. I was operating on animal instinct only. Stay here, stay alive. But he wasn’t looking at me. It was like he didn’t hear me at all.

“There was a fire,” he said.

Oh my God.

“In Gale’s building.”

She did it.

“In her apartment.”

Without me.

“Gale’s dead.”

For me.

I was disoriented, closing my eyes, reaching toward the headboard for balance so I didn’t tip right over. Was this an act of survival on Mother’s part? Gale had her, too. But Gale couldn’t really have had Mother, right? Nobody ever could. I had always admired that about her.

But I had betrayed Mother by reneging on our deal. I didn’t show up for her like she asked. I did not do as she said. I made my choice, the wrong choice in her mind, and she could have run and left me holding the bag like I thought she would.

But no, Mother took care of it anyway because that was how she always took care of me. Showing me love the only way she knew how. The dark, sick love my mother had for her daughter. She had always killed for herself, but this time she killed for me.



* * *



? ? ?

COLLIN COLLAPSED ON the bed, tears falling at an alarming rate, and I leapt into action, wrapping my arms around his body as he shuddered into my neck. “I can’t believe this,” he sobbed. “She was my best friend. I’m sorry, Bea, but she was my best—”

“I know, I know,” I comforted him, absolving him of his sin, his closeness to her. She was his best friend and I had taken her from him, in more ways than one, now in a way I never actually wanted. Not deep down. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t her.

But I was still the sinner. I was always the sinner.

“I’m so sorry, Collin. I’m so sorry.”

I cradled my husband, rocking him back and forth, running my hands through his hair, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do to make him—or myself—feel better. It was all my fault and the guilt was manifesting as nausea, not morning sickness, but the pure desire to expel such evil from my body, rid Mother from myself. But I also felt so relieved, the tension in my neck and shoulders dissipating after a full night of clenching and flexing in anticipation, and that made me feel even guiltier and more physically ill, but the vomit would not come up. It would just sit there, making me feel uncomfortable and wretched, because I didn’t deserve the release. I had caused this pain. I had caused this death. Gale’s death.

But the problem was gone, just as I wanted.

Gale Wallace-Leicester, and all of her files, her intel, whatever she had on Mother and me, was gone. Mother had taken care of it, taken care of me, burning it all to a crisp, but I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it now that she was really back. I knew she was alive, that she’d always be close and that she’d want something in return. I had made it more difficult for her, entwined with one of the most protected families in the world, but Mother thrived on a challenge. I had seen it in her eyes the night before. She would always find me. She’d never let me go. Not until she was gone for good and I would never be able to do that to her. The devil himself would have to take her because ultimately I could not.