CHAPTER TWO
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, Tara hustled down a quaint Arlington street, determined not to be late for her seven-thirty appointment with a reporter. She hated dealing with the press, but she owed it to Emily to see Mars brought to justice. If talking to journalists kept the topic in the news—and gave other women and girls the confidence to come forward with charges againstmen who’d hurt them—Tara would spend the rest of her life doing it.
She pulled her wool peacoat tighter and put her head down against the frigid wind, stepping carefully to avoid the icy patches. Spring was only a couple of weeks away, but northern Virginia wouldn’t really feel it until May.
Strains of the song “Evil Woman” came from her purse.Lauren. The sister who’d become an accountant,had never made waves in school, had always been top of her class, and rarely did anything to bring unwanted attention to herself. Like become a cheerleader, or get caught at a party drinking beer and making out with the high school’s star basketball player.
Lauren had never disappointed their parents with a report card full of Bs, or worn short skirts and red lipstick, or told them to fuck off.
With a sigh, Tara dug the phone from her purse and answered.
“You need to stop talking to the press,” Lauren said, skipping right over the niceties.
“Why?”
“Because every time there’s a new story Mom and Dad get upset all over again. They want to move on but you’re not letting them.”
“It hasn’t even been two weeks and they’re ready to move on?”
“Not like that,” Lauren said with an exaggeratedsigh. “It’s painful for them.”
And embarrassing. A constant reminder of how their youngest daughter had failed them, and brought shame and notoriety upon the family, when all they wanted to do was keep their heads down and be successful and without standing out in the crowd.
“The news won’t care much longer, Lauren. I’m trying to give Emily’s death some meaning and this is the only way I knowhow.”
Lauren scoffed. “You think you’re some kind of hero, taking down that photographer, but none of this would have happened if you hadn’t encouraged her to defy our parents in the first place.”
Tara gaped. It would still have happened toothergirls. “I never wanted this. I only wanted Emily to be happy.”
Her sister made a noise of disgust. “You always were selfish. Doing whatever youpleased without caring how much you hurt the people around you.”
“Iwas selfish?” Tara’s face and ears flamed. “Selfish is guilting your kids into following a prescribed path whether it makes them happy or not. Selfish is withholding love from your children if they don’t live up to your expectations.”
“Mom and Dad gave useverything, and you thumbed your nose at them,” Lauren said, divingright into the same old argument. They probably used the same lines verbatim at this point.
Tara had been raised with plenty of privileges, and she was grateful. But if she’d followed the path her parents wanted for her, she would be as miserable as Lauren.
Oh. Tara paused.
Why hadn’t she seen it before? Maybe shehadbeen too focused on herself and her self-righteous rebellion. “What dreamdid you give up to please them?” she asked softly.
Her sister gasped. The line was silent for several beats. “All I ever wanted was to make them happy.” Her voice told a different story. “Something you clearly didn’t—and still don’t—give a damn about.”
Lauren didn’t understand that Tara had wanted nothing more. But she’d wanted her parents to be proud of her—to love her—forwho she was. Shecould never bring herself to hide her true nature under some cloak of perfection that would eventually choke the life out of her.
Rather than defend herself, Tara said, “I’m sorry you felt like you had to.”
Lauren scoffed. “And then you poisoned Emily with the idea that she could be a model. Asupermodel, for God’s sake.”
“That’s all she ever wanted. I was trying to help.”
“And now she’sdead,” Lauren said, her voice dripping with venom. “Good job.”
The words flattened Tara like a city bus. Had she pushed Emily too hard to follow her own path, to resist the pressure from their parents and choose the life she’d dreamed of? Had Tara really been helping, or had she merely transferred her own expectations onto her sister?
Did it even matter?
All the oxygen fled her lungs.
