The Bad Daughter(7)

Your father is invincible, Robin told herself. He isn’t about to let a little bullet to the brain slow him down. And Tara’s no shrinking violet. At the very least, she’s a survivor. Hell, the word was coined for her. And little Cassidy will be fine. She’s twelve. She’ll bounce back in no time. You’ll see—all three of them will pull through. You’ll visit them in the hospital, they’ll laugh in your face, and you’ll get the hell out of Dodge.

Robin was feeling almost peaceful as the bus passed the State Theatre and the gold-hatted clock tower—both regularly referred to in local guidebooks as “historic”—before pulling to a stop at the far end of the street.

Then she saw Melanie waiting by the side of the road.

Robin stepped off the bus, the colorful Victorian architecture of Main Street blurring behind her as she took her small suitcase from the bus driver’s outstretched hand, then walked toward her sister.

Melanie wasted no time on pleasantries. “Tara’s dead,” she said.





CHAPTER THREE


Approximately 14,000 people live in Red Bluff, most of them white and straining toward middle class. The town’s motto is A Great Place to Live, although Robin had always thought A Great Place to Leave would probably be a more suitable slogan. Unless you loved rodeos, she thought. The annual Red Bluff Round-Up had become one of the West’s largest rodeos and most anticipated events, ranchers coming from all over the country every April to have their bulls compete. She said a silent Thank you, God, that she had just missed it.

Aside from its rodeo, Red Bluff was perhaps best known for being the place where a seventeen-year-old girl was kidnapped by a deranged couple and held captive in a box under their bed for seven years. The kidnapping had occurred back in May 1977, and as far as Robin knew, nothing much of note had happened in the town since.

“You look like crap,” Melanie said as they climbed into the front seat of her candy wrapper–strewn, decade-old Impala.

Robin had been thinking the same thing about Melanie, but was too polite to say it. There were deep bags under her sister’s hazel eyes, and her preternaturally dark hair hung in lifeless waves past her rounded shoulders, her hair the victim of years of bad dye jobs, her shoulders the victim of years of bad posture. “I didn’t get much sleep. How’s Dad?”

“Still breathing.”

“When did Tara die?”

“About an hour ago.”

“That’s so awful.”

Melanie lowered her chin, looking sideways at Robin with undisguised skepticism as she threw the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. “You were hardly her biggest fan.”

“I never wished her dead.”

“No? Guess that was Alec. Were you able to reach him?”

Robin nodded, taking note of the few trees scattered across the vast expanse of mostly empty space between downtown Red Bluff and the hospital on its outskirts. Nothing much had changed since she’d left. “I don’t think he’ll be joining us.”

“Not exactly a big surprise.” Melanie glanced toward Robin without taking her eyes off the road. “You don’t think…”

“I don’t think…what? That Alec had something to do with this?” Robin heard the defensiveness in her voice, a leftover from her childhood. It had always been Robin and her brother against the world, “the world” at the time being Melanie.

“You said it,” Melanie replied. “I didn’t.”

“You thought it.”

“Don’t tell me it never crossed your mind.”

“Alec loved Tara,” Robin said, refusing to admit there was even the possibility that Melanie could be right.

“And hated our father.”

“Not enough to do something like this!”

“You’re really so sure of that?”

“Yes.” Was she? Wasn’t there a tiny part of her that had wondered the same thing?

St. Elizabeth Community Hospital was located on Sister Mary Columba Drive, about five minutes from downtown. Robin repeatedly stole glances at her sister, waiting for her to ask questions about Robin’s life, about Blake, about her health, about anything. “Have there been any other developments?” she asked when Melanie failed to do so.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Did Tara say anything to the police before she died?”

“No. She never regained consciousness.”

“What about Cassidy?”

“It’s touch and go. The bullet hit just below her heart and exited out her back, what the sheriff calls a through-and-through. Miraculously, it missed her lungs, but she’s lost a tremendous amount of blood, and her condition is still critical. The doctor said it could go either way.”

“Is she awake?”

“She drifts in and out. They’ve tried talking to her, but so far she hasn’t said a word.”

“So they still have no idea who’s responsible.”

“They are absolutely clueless,” Melanie said, emphasizing each word.

“Does she know about her mother?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Melanie turned off the road into the small hospital’s surprisingly large parking lot. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” She located a parking space across from two police cars and shut off the car’s engine, then opened her door. An explosion of hot air shot toward Robin, as if someone had tossed a grenade at her head. “Coming?”