Chapter 45
She lifted the steaming coffee mug to her lips, watching the ancient witch next door hoist the doll onto her hip. She waved a hand in greeting when their eyes met across the small distance, a smirk transforming her expression into something oddly empty of human emotion as the woman skittered off, and the doll that wasn't a doll looked back at her with a look of fear.
"Mom," Jessica said, holding her hand over the phone receiver, "what's wrong with Tabitha?"
Grace swiveled the stool she sat on around, her smirk replaced with a mask of concern. "I don't know.she's been acting stranger than usual."
Jessica's brows lifted in surprise at her mother's comment, and she uncovered the receiver, walking toward the refridgerator and pulling it open to remove the milk. Then she plucked a box of cereal from the cupboards. "Really? Charity, that's wonderful news! Wait a minute. Let me tell, Mom.Mom," Jessica turned around, beaming. "Since the doctors can't find anything physically wrong with Tessa, they say it might be possible for her to come home tomorrow. Isn't that great news?"
"Great," Grace nodded, hiding her grimace behind her coffee mug.
Jessica turned the cereal box upside down and seconds later, the flakes rattled against the empty bowl. "Give Tessa our love. Okay. Bye, Charity," she said, disconnecting the phone with a smile and laying it down on the kitchen counter. She lifted a spoonful of cereal to her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully for several seconds before speaking again. "You never told me where you were last night.DAD!!!" Jessica gasped when her father tore through the kitchen toward her mother.
The door still bounced on its hinges.
Grace looked up into Sam's face, her lips twitching at his clenched jaw, his burning blue eyes, and the strong hand clutching her wrist fiercely. "Good morning, Sam."
Jessica watched her parents in shocked silence, her cereal forgotten.
"What were doing at the Seascape last night?" Sam asked, gripping her wrist even tighter as he pulled her off the barstool and away from Jessica's listening ears.
Jessica ducked her head in embarrassment, staring at the bowl of corn flakes in distaste. She suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.
"Jessica, you don't have to leave," Grace called over her shoulder as the young woman rinsed the bowl out and put it in the dishwasher without daring to glance in their direction. "You should stick around and ask your father why he's so concerned about that bitch, Ivy Crane."
Jessica's blue eyes were bright as she made a hasty escape from the kitchen.
"Sam," Grace pursed her lips. "You've upset her."
"I haven't done anything to her, Grace," Sam hissed, closing his fist over her other hand and stilling its wandering movements on his chest. "What.were you doing.at the Seascape.last night?"
Grace threw her auburn head back, hollow laughter bubbling up in her throat. "Nothing, Sam," she said, her mouth pouting as she sobered. "Taking a walk?"
"Not according to Ivy," Sam barked angrily.
"Not according to Ivy," Grace repeated his angry words mockingly. "What does your precious Ivy say, Sam? Does she think I'm stalking her? Lurking in the shadows? Is she afraid of me, Sam, or just guilty? She moved in on you pretty quick, don't you think? Did it just simply happen that way or did she KNOW I was dead?"
Sam pushed her and her words away. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Grace's blue eyes glittered coldly as she crowded close to him, her voice a low, deadly whisper, "It's no secret, Sam. Everyone in Harmony knows that Ivy Crane has always wanted everything Grace had."
"Grace?" Sam's blue eyes clouded as he spoke her name. Little by little, everything he thought he knew about his wife was disappearing like a mirage.
"She's never been anything but a greedy whore," Grace spat, "but she can't have everything she sets her sights on. I won't let her. If she."
Sam slammed his palm down against the kitchen counter behind her, too livid to notice Grace didn't flinch, that her blue eyes danced with evil. "I'm warning you, Grace."
"Really, Sam?" Grace crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back, savoring his display of barely controlled rage. "Warning me, Sam? Against what?"
Sam thrust a hand out, gripping her arm in what would seem to be a painful vice, but his wife didn't cry out, his wife wasn't even his wife to him anymore, he thought as he pulled her to him. "I don't know what happened, and I can't pretend to understand how and what made you change from the wonderful woman I married to a woman.a woman I don't recognize. But I do know one thing. Are you listening to me, Grace? Because I want to make sure I make this clear."
Grace gazed up at him calmly, a caricature of a smile on her lips as his anger flamed around her, bathing her in foreign heat.
"Stay away from Ivy. If you touch one hair on her head.Stay away from her, Grace. You won't have to find out," Sam said, dropping her arm from his grasp as if her touch were something poisonous. "Stay away from her."
"I will, Sam," Grace smirked as she watched him leave the house the same way he'd entered it, with a slamming of the kitchen door. "Cross my heart," she whispered, dragging one long, hideous nail across her chest as laughter again spilled from her lips.
And hope to die.
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Long limbs stretched everywhere, pale against the dark silk of the sheets.
Her face was hidden by a veil of tangled black hair.
Chad found himself oddly grateful. He didn't think he could face the intensity of feeling in her dark eyes, especially the pain that never seemed far away, yet. Last night, they left their brains and common sense in that club, and he wasn't sure he could face the guilt and regret either, even though those emotions were mirrored in his own eyes.
The police file lay open on the bureau, dead end, slippery facts to grasp detailed in its pages.
Chad picked the file up, wandering toward the tall, naked window that stretched from floor to ceiling, letting the morning sun pour in unfettered.
The pages whispered and crackled beneath his fingertips, murmuring about secrets and lies but refusing to give up the truth.
Ivy Crane. The last person to see Grace alive. The last person to talk to her. The person who coveted Grace's husband.
Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. It didn't take some suit with a Ph.D. to figure that out, Chad thought, but why hadn't something been done about it? Why wouldn't Kay touch it with a ten-foot pole, Chad wondered, finding himself drawn back to her.
Kay sighed and stretched against the silk sheets, burrowing her face deeper into the pillow she had clutched in a vice. Her back was bared to him, slender and pale and unmarked, the sheets bunched at the curve of her hip.
Chad wasn't conscious of the hand hovering above her hair until he was startled by the shrill ringing of the phone in the other room, and he jerked his hand back to his side.
Kay groaned as she drifted into wakefulness, rubbing at her eyes briskly and scowling at her fingertips, black with the remnants of her mascara. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to block out the flashes of memory that bombarded her brain.
This ranked right up there with the many stupid things she'd done in her life, and she'd done plenty.
What now?
She looked up in awkward surprise, tucking the sheets underneath her armpits when Chad walked through the bedroom door, the cordless phone to his ear. "Chad? What.who is it?"
"It's Jessica," Chad told her, grabbing a pair of pants out of his closet and stepping into them, one leg at a time. "It's your moms."
Kay was out of the bed in an instant, uncaring of her state of undress as she rifled through her duffel bag, pulling out a wrinkled tee-shirt, circa senior year in high school and yanking it over her head.
She lifted the steaming coffee mug to her lips, watching the ancient witch next door hoist the doll onto her hip. She waved a hand in greeting when their eyes met across the small distance, a smirk transforming her expression into something oddly empty of human emotion as the woman skittered off, and the doll that wasn't a doll looked back at her with a look of fear.
"Mom," Jessica said, holding her hand over the phone receiver, "what's wrong with Tabitha?"
Grace swiveled the stool she sat on around, her smirk replaced with a mask of concern. "I don't know.she's been acting stranger than usual."
Jessica's brows lifted in surprise at her mother's comment, and she uncovered the receiver, walking toward the refridgerator and pulling it open to remove the milk. Then she plucked a box of cereal from the cupboards. "Really? Charity, that's wonderful news! Wait a minute. Let me tell, Mom.Mom," Jessica turned around, beaming. "Since the doctors can't find anything physically wrong with Tessa, they say it might be possible for her to come home tomorrow. Isn't that great news?"
"Great," Grace nodded, hiding her grimace behind her coffee mug.
Jessica turned the cereal box upside down and seconds later, the flakes rattled against the empty bowl. "Give Tessa our love. Okay. Bye, Charity," she said, disconnecting the phone with a smile and laying it down on the kitchen counter. She lifted a spoonful of cereal to her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully for several seconds before speaking again. "You never told me where you were last night.DAD!!!" Jessica gasped when her father tore through the kitchen toward her mother.
The door still bounced on its hinges.
Grace looked up into Sam's face, her lips twitching at his clenched jaw, his burning blue eyes, and the strong hand clutching her wrist fiercely. "Good morning, Sam."
Jessica watched her parents in shocked silence, her cereal forgotten.
"What were doing at the Seascape last night?" Sam asked, gripping her wrist even tighter as he pulled her off the barstool and away from Jessica's listening ears.
Jessica ducked her head in embarrassment, staring at the bowl of corn flakes in distaste. She suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.
"Jessica, you don't have to leave," Grace called over her shoulder as the young woman rinsed the bowl out and put it in the dishwasher without daring to glance in their direction. "You should stick around and ask your father why he's so concerned about that bitch, Ivy Crane."
Jessica's blue eyes were bright as she made a hasty escape from the kitchen.
"Sam," Grace pursed her lips. "You've upset her."
"I haven't done anything to her, Grace," Sam hissed, closing his fist over her other hand and stilling its wandering movements on his chest. "What.were you doing.at the Seascape.last night?"
Grace threw her auburn head back, hollow laughter bubbling up in her throat. "Nothing, Sam," she said, her mouth pouting as she sobered. "Taking a walk?"
"Not according to Ivy," Sam barked angrily.
"Not according to Ivy," Grace repeated his angry words mockingly. "What does your precious Ivy say, Sam? Does she think I'm stalking her? Lurking in the shadows? Is she afraid of me, Sam, or just guilty? She moved in on you pretty quick, don't you think? Did it just simply happen that way or did she KNOW I was dead?"
Sam pushed her and her words away. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Grace's blue eyes glittered coldly as she crowded close to him, her voice a low, deadly whisper, "It's no secret, Sam. Everyone in Harmony knows that Ivy Crane has always wanted everything Grace had."
"Grace?" Sam's blue eyes clouded as he spoke her name. Little by little, everything he thought he knew about his wife was disappearing like a mirage.
"She's never been anything but a greedy whore," Grace spat, "but she can't have everything she sets her sights on. I won't let her. If she."
Sam slammed his palm down against the kitchen counter behind her, too livid to notice Grace didn't flinch, that her blue eyes danced with evil. "I'm warning you, Grace."
"Really, Sam?" Grace crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back, savoring his display of barely controlled rage. "Warning me, Sam? Against what?"
Sam thrust a hand out, gripping her arm in what would seem to be a painful vice, but his wife didn't cry out, his wife wasn't even his wife to him anymore, he thought as he pulled her to him. "I don't know what happened, and I can't pretend to understand how and what made you change from the wonderful woman I married to a woman.a woman I don't recognize. But I do know one thing. Are you listening to me, Grace? Because I want to make sure I make this clear."
Grace gazed up at him calmly, a caricature of a smile on her lips as his anger flamed around her, bathing her in foreign heat.
"Stay away from Ivy. If you touch one hair on her head.Stay away from her, Grace. You won't have to find out," Sam said, dropping her arm from his grasp as if her touch were something poisonous. "Stay away from her."
"I will, Sam," Grace smirked as she watched him leave the house the same way he'd entered it, with a slamming of the kitchen door. "Cross my heart," she whispered, dragging one long, hideous nail across her chest as laughter again spilled from her lips.
And hope to die.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Long limbs stretched everywhere, pale against the dark silk of the sheets.
Her face was hidden by a veil of tangled black hair.
Chad found himself oddly grateful. He didn't think he could face the intensity of feeling in her dark eyes, especially the pain that never seemed far away, yet. Last night, they left their brains and common sense in that club, and he wasn't sure he could face the guilt and regret either, even though those emotions were mirrored in his own eyes.
The police file lay open on the bureau, dead end, slippery facts to grasp detailed in its pages.
Chad picked the file up, wandering toward the tall, naked window that stretched from floor to ceiling, letting the morning sun pour in unfettered.
The pages whispered and crackled beneath his fingertips, murmuring about secrets and lies but refusing to give up the truth.
Ivy Crane. The last person to see Grace alive. The last person to talk to her. The person who coveted Grace's husband.
Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. It didn't take some suit with a Ph.D. to figure that out, Chad thought, but why hadn't something been done about it? Why wouldn't Kay touch it with a ten-foot pole, Chad wondered, finding himself drawn back to her.
Kay sighed and stretched against the silk sheets, burrowing her face deeper into the pillow she had clutched in a vice. Her back was bared to him, slender and pale and unmarked, the sheets bunched at the curve of her hip.
Chad wasn't conscious of the hand hovering above her hair until he was startled by the shrill ringing of the phone in the other room, and he jerked his hand back to his side.
Kay groaned as she drifted into wakefulness, rubbing at her eyes briskly and scowling at her fingertips, black with the remnants of her mascara. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to block out the flashes of memory that bombarded her brain.
This ranked right up there with the many stupid things she'd done in her life, and she'd done plenty.
What now?
She looked up in awkward surprise, tucking the sheets underneath her armpits when Chad walked through the bedroom door, the cordless phone to his ear. "Chad? What.who is it?"
"It's Jessica," Chad told her, grabbing a pair of pants out of his closet and stepping into them, one leg at a time. "It's your moms."
Kay was out of the bed in an instant, uncaring of her state of undress as she rifled through her duffel bag, pulling out a wrinkled tee-shirt, circa senior year in high school and yanking it over her head.