A Mother Would Know (78)

Her smile transforms to more of a grimace. “You always choose him. The only person in this family you ever cared about was Hudson. You even turned to him when your memory started to go. Not me, the nurse, the one with actual training. The responsible one. The one who could take care of you. No, you still wanted Hudson.”

Is that why she did this? So I would choose her? Need her? Was my reliance on her the end goal, or the means to something else?

She sniffs, shakes her head. “God, it doesn’t even matter what he does. Even after Heather’s death, you sided with him. And you’re still doing it today.”

“I can’t listen to this anymore.” Hudson groans. “I’ve been covering for you our entire lives, but I’m done with this shit. Where are the damn cops?” His hand grazes my shoulder. He shoots daggers at his sister with his eyes.

Kendra’s brows furrow. “The cops? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Call me crazy, but I think murdering two women and poisoning your own mom constitutes doing something wrong.”

A flicker of something—fear, I think—passes over her face. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“You’re not fooling us, Kendra, so you can ditch the act,” Hudson says.

She lifts her head, her lips twitching. “You’re the one who has motive to kill Leslie, not me.”

I think about what Tessa said. How the police had found out that Molly had been seeing someone. Had they found out about Theo and Molly? Had they started to suspect Kendra? Had Leslie?

Had Kendra known?

The earring. The one I found on Leslie’s carpet.

Darren had bought Kendra and me identical pairs that Christmas. While they weren’t my style, they were Kendra’s. Plus, they were from her dad, so she wore them all the time. They were one of her go-to pairs before Mason was born and she’d stopped wearing earrings to protect her ears from reaching, grabbing baby hands. But she’d been wearing them when she came over for dinner that first week Hudson had been here.

It wasn’t my earring at Leslie’s.

It was Kendra’s.

Kendra had been sneaking around my house for months. What would have stopped her from taking Leslie’s key out of my junk drawer?

And once she was inside her home, did she slip something into Leslie’s tea the same way she had mine?

“Leslie had found out about Theo’s affair,” I say hoarsely. That had to have been the name she refused to tell Tessa and Beth.

“That woman knew every fucking thing about this neighborhood,” Kendra says. “She was the worst.”

“And the police knew, too. They’d found fingerprints. Were they Theo’s? Or yours?” I speak slowly, piecing it together.

“God, Mom, shut up!” Kendra shouts, holding her head in her hands. “You think you’re so damn smart. Going behind my back and calling Dr. Steiner. Finding out about Theo’s affair. But you don’t know everything, okay? So just stop.”

“That’s why you did this,” Hudson says. “Once Mom had the test results from Dr. Steiner, it was only a matter of time before she found out you’d been poisoning her. You tried to silence her the same way you silenced Leslie.”

“I didn’t want to do any of it,” she snaps. “It’s your fault. You’re the one who came here and stirred everything up. I had everything under control. This is your doing!”

She darts for the door, and Hudson leaps after her, tries to stop her. They crash to the floor together in the hall just outside, and for a moment, she’s on top of him, her hands clawing at his throat—a reversal of years ago. But Hudson bucks, catches hold of her arms and rolls, grappling with her as she shrieks, and the shrieks give way to sobs. I realize that I am crying, too.

Just then sirens ring out, coming closer and closer.





28





I was questioned by police the night of Heather’s death.

I’d done exactly as I promised. Hid a few miles away in my car and waited for Hudson to call me after the police arrived. When I returned, I found Hudson talking to a police officer. It was cold. Dark. His teeth were chattering, his face pale.

In my panic, I’d forgotten about Kendra being there. It wasn’t until I’d stood by Hudson’s side, offering him support with my presence, that I noticed her across the field, talking with a different police officer. Her gaze found mine, and she raised her brows. Looking back, she might have been silently asking for my help, but I didn’t interpret it that way at the time. Normally, Kendra was in control. She’d rarely needed my assistance. Why would that night be any different?

Besides, Hudson was the one who needed me. It was his girlfriend who had died. It was clear from the moment I arrived that the police were suspicious of him. He looked scared and tired, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. I was worried that all of these things would be interpreted by the police as guilty. I knew exactly what that was like.

Mac’s death had been a mere eight months earlier. It’s the reason I instructed Hudson to make sure he wasn’t the one who found Heather. Finding Mac had been my undoing.

News of our affair broke, no doubt leaked by my former bandmates. Everyone blamed me for his suicide—fans of Flight of Hearts, as well as Mac’s friends and family. I had strung him along and crushed his heart. And what was I doing at his house, wearing that low-cut top? Trying to weasel my way back into his band, careless about his pain, as he died in the name of love on the other side of the door.