What do I say? What do I feel? I hate the platitudes I’ve heard, even in my own family.
Now you can heal. Now you’ll have closure.
Closure? Someone is dead. But that’s not the end of anything, certainly not the pain. The identification is just the beginning of a wound that may never heal.
But I’m not thinking about Julie Larimore, am I? I’m thinking about Lisa, Aunt Carey. Doing so has almost forced my car off this road. I put on my brake. Slow down.
“I’ll meet you at Roberta Matlock’s gallery,” I manage to say.
Tania Marie
Shoulder to shoulder in the back seat of Princess Gabby’s sedan, Tania Marie pulled out her phone.
“It’s half-assed nice, isn’t it?” she said. “All of us together, kind of like sisters.”
“You ever had a sister?” Rochelle demanded from her right side. “It’s not all bunk beds, blind dates and Aqua Net, especially not if you’re raised in a house with one bathroom.”
A nauseating wave of shame forced Tania Marie to look out at the thick tree-lined vineyard they’d entered. She’d been an only child, and they’d had four bathrooms at home, even after Virginia left her dad.
Head ducked, ostensibly peering into her purse, Tania Marie asked, “Where’s your sister now?”
“Last I heard, she married some truck driver.” When Tania Marie couldn’t help giving Rochelle a look, she got a sharper, more narrow one in return. “If you hang out with your past, you’ll never rise above it, right?”
What a cold chick. How could she answer that one?
“Hey, folks. I think I’m lost.”
Princess Gabby’s driver gave Tania Marie the excuse she needed. And he was right. This road was supposed to lead them to a winery, where Mr. Warren would greet them. Instead, they were losing light and direction by the moment. All that remained ahead was an abandoned-looking brick building with some antique equipment and a couple of rotting barrels in front of it—definitely not the kind of place Mr. Warren would pick for a meeting.
“I’m phoning right now,” Tania Marie announced with more enthusiasm than she felt.
Only a machine answered the phone. She didn’t bother to leave a message.
“What’s wrong?” Christopher demanded. “Is anyone there?”
“No problem. I have the cell number for Mr. Warren’s assistant right here.”
If usually unruffled Christopher was concerned, maybe there was a reason. Tania Marie knew she must talk to Mr. Warren, or even Lucas Morrison. She was starting to get what Marshall, damn him, used to call “the creepies.” She was starting to get them bad.
Then they approached the old, brick-faced building, hidden beneath a facade of trees—dirty, dusty and abandoned as far as she could see into the side and back.
“This is Ellen Homer,” the crisp voice answered.
“I think I wrote down the wrong directions,” Tania Marie said. “Where are we supposed to be right now?”
“We?What do you mean,we?”Ellen’s voice sounded angry.
Tania Marie laughed as much from nervousness as anything else. “The Killer Body crew. Rochelle. Princess Gabby. That’s what Mr. Warren said. Didn’t he?”
In the pause that followed, she felt stupid again, stripped naked, the way she’d felt when Marshall’s wife had made those horrible statements about her.
“You’re bringingthem?”Ellen’s response was more shriek than statement. “It’s supposed to be just you.”
“Well, they’re here with me, wherever in the hellhereis.” Tania Marie looked back at her friends and suddenly realized that this tree-covered place might not be the safest for any of them.
“Get out,” Ellen screamed into her ear. “He’s going to kill you, all of you.”
Then another scream, then smashing silence.
