“Where are you two headed?” she asks.
“Shooting range,” Nellie says coolly.
Charleigh waits for Nellie to ask about Blair—she left them a note in the breakfast nook, saying that she was going to the hospital—but Nellie just stares at her blankly, impatiently.
“Well, I’ve got a little good news,” Charleigh chirps. Nellie lifts an eyebrow. “About Blair.”
Alexander leans over. “Good, let’s hear it!”
“She woke up this morning. Just for a sec, but at least she opened her eyes. It’s a good sign, I think? Monica was a wreck, so I didn’t stay too long—”
“No, that’s areallygood sign, baby.” Alexander winks at her.
Nellie whistles out a long sigh. “Oh, thank God. That’s such a relief. She’ll be okay, right, Mom?”
Charleigh can’t tell if Nellie is relieved because Blair actually has a shot at recovering,orif, because she’s gonna make it, Nellie can’t be charged withmurder.
She needs to inhale, exhale,relax.
“Yes, I really believe she will. She’s tough as nails.”
Alexander nods, places a hand on Nellie’s shoulder.
Charleigh is about to close Nellie’s door, let them go, but she pauses. “And the police were there today.”
Nellie’s features rearrange themselves from cool, detached, to puzzled.
“Why? What for?” Alexander quizzes her.
“Seems far-fetched to me, but they’re looking into foul play. Said if Blair came to, to call them. But she only opened her eyes, closed them, so—”
“Dad, let’s go,” Nellie says, shutting the door. “I’m getting upset.”
If Charleigh thought she’d get an ounce of relief from spilling this, from gauging Nellie’s reaction, she was wrong.
Her insides begin churning again as she watches the Wagoneer disappear down the drive.
69
Nellie
Dad turns off the highway onto the farm-to-market road that leads to the shooting range.
It’s like a twenty-minute drive from our house; I’ve stayed silent the entire time, seething. Just being this close to Dad makes me wanna punch him in the face. I can’t get what I saw the other night out of my head. Him slumped over Jane’s mom, her smiling at me in that sick, evil way.
And now he’s acting all concerned aboutmebecause ofBlair.
“You okay, honey?”
I sniff, nod, then turn my face to the window, away from him.
“You can open up to me, you know, if you want to talk—”
I shake my head, comb my hair forward, like a shield between us.
Can I open up to you, Daddy? Obviously you really give a shit about me. And Mom. No, fuck you…
And Blair.
