Well, of course Delaney hated him; she had every reason to. But she certainly didn’t want anyone dead, and if the boy was missing, it had nothing at all to do with Delaney.
Timothy McDaniel sounded like a delinquent, plain and simple.
But I needed to talk to Delaney. If she knew more, I needed her to confide in me. But the last time she’d confided in me, I’d broken her trust …
“Delaney, dinner’s ready,” I called through the door.
Ten minutes later, she plopped down at the table with a loud bang.
Quietly, I took a seat across from her, watching in horror as Delaney started wildly shoveling food into her mouth.
Her cheeks were full of chicken and potatoes and when she saw the disgusted look on my face, she smiled at me with her mouth full of food.
“Delaney!”
“What, Mom? I don’t want you calling me too skinny! Is this better?”
I sighed deeply.
These stupid games have to end.
“I know you’re pissed off at me. But you’re not a child anymore, Delaney. You can’t act like this. I’m your mother and I need you to talk to me.”
“Like I did the other day?”
“I didn’t go to the school secretary. She’s Pam’s neighbor, so Pam asked her a few questions …”
“So, you ran and told Pam then? How is that better?” Delaney said.
I shrugged, unsure what to say anymore.
“I only want what’s best for you, honey. I would never try to hurt you or make things worse for you. Samantha told me that the police came to school. Did they ask you a lot of questions?” I picked up my fork and used it to squash one of the small potatoes flat.
“I know you do. But I’m still mad. Yeah, their questions were stupid. They wanted to know if I knew where he was. If I had anything to do with him running away.” Delaney spit a mouthful of food into her napkin and stood up.
“Do you know where he might have gone?” I asked, tentatively.
“I don’t know where that asshole went. And frankly, I don’t care. If something bad happened to him, then he probably deserved it.” Her bedroom door clicked shut and I sat at the kitchen table, numbly picking at my food.
Chapter 37
NOW
“They’re coming!” Frantically, I ran from the room and charged down the basement stairs, nearly twisting my ankle in the process.
“Who?” Pam shouted from the top of the stairs.
“The police! They’ve arrested Delaney. They found Timothy’s clothes and her ID behind the school. Don’t you see, he’s not trying to frame us for the murders, Pam! He’s trying to hit me where it really hurts – my daughter!”
“But why would he care about hurting Delaney?” Pam bent her head side to side, considering my theory. I pushed her aside as I reached the top of the stairs, Skilsaw in hand.
“Are you crazy?” Pam shouted, following me back to my bedroom. “You can’t do this! You can’t!”
“I have to move these bodies somehow. I can’t let my daughter go down for a murder she didn’t commit, all because of something I did – we did – when we were young.”
I pressed the sharp side of the saw to Robin Regal’s neck, trying to force myself to turn it on. My stomach heaved and the blade shook. I dropped it, running for the commode.
I didn’t make it in time. Vomit sprang from my mouth and nose. Huddled by the toilet, I couldn’t help thinking about Tamara twenty years earlier …
I wiped my mouth and laid a towel down over my mess, then quickly splashed my face with cool water in the sink.
When I returned to my bedroom, Pam was gone.
Did she take off and leave me? Did she decide that the best thing for her own safety was to cut and run?
But then I heard a thump in Delaney’s bedroom.
“Pam?”
The door to Delaney’s room was halfway open, light shining through it. I pushed it open.
Pam was opening and closing drawers.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Just checking,” Pam said, looking up at me guiltily.
“Checking for what exactly?”
But I already knew. Pam doesn’t believe me about Uncle Phil. She thinks Delaney might be guilty.
“She wouldn’t hurt anyone. She’s not like me, Pam … and if you’re not going to help me, at least get the fuck out of my house so I can do what needs to be done.”
Pam lifted Delaney’s bed, peeking between the mattress and box springs.
“There.” She pressed her hip against the mattress, propping it up as she pointed at something lying flat in between.
“It’s a knife,” Pam said, giving me a knowing look.
But I wasn’t looking at where she was pointing. My eyes were drawn to something else on the floor. A fleck of shiny gold wrapper peeking out from under the bed. I got down on my knees and retrieved the candy wrapper.
“Wait a second …”
I ran for the kitchen, instantly throwing back the lid on the garbage. I dug through the putrid sack, tossing potatoes and soda cans, and rolled up balls of tissue, into a pile on the floor.
“Now that’s what I’m looking for,” I breathed. At the bottom of the trash bag was a gold box, wrapped with a big gold ribbon. I reached for it, brushing slimy green beans and crud off the top of it.
When I opened it, it was empty, just as I knew it would be.
The date with Ben. The box of candy …
The events of last night suddenly rushed back like a tidal wave, too heavy and powerful to stop them …
Chapter 38
BEFORE
I tried watching TV, anything to get my mind off Delaney and the missing boy, but every local station was talking about the “brilliant young boy” gone missing. The news called him a hometown hero, a rising star, a pillar of the community …
It made me sick to hear it.
Timothy McDaniel was a bully. Why don’t they mention that?
But at the same time, I felt terrible for his mother. Bully or not, I knew how difficult raising a teen could be. His mother and father were probably sick with worry, but I was worried about something else: his disappearance making things even worse for Delaney. The last thing she needed was more strange looks, more isolation …
I flipped the TV off and went to her bedroom. The door was still closed, the lights out. When I turned the knob, I was surprised to find it unlocked. Delaney was curled up on her side in the dark, purring like a kitten.
My sweet little girl.
She’s not so little anymore, and most days she isn’t sweet either.
I fought the urge to lie down beside her. Finally, I closed her door and sauntered into the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of cherry Moscato, closing my eyes with joy as I took the first fizzy swallow.
I carried my drink to my bedroom and closed the door, then flicked my computer screen on.
Had it been a waste of time, joining the dating site?
Not really. It was fun, but hard to make real connections online. So many people just wanted to hook up. And even the good ones, like Ben, seemed kind of shady.
Once again, he hadn’t called or messaged.
But who cares at this point? I have enough on my plate to worry about already, I decided.