“No. No. It’s just a headache. Rayleen and I will be fine. We’ll be fine. We’ll…we’ll just have some lunch here, then go ahead to the salon.”
“I’ll put lunch together for you then, and—”
“We’ll manage, Cora. Go meet your friends.”
“If you’re sure then. You can ring me back anytime. I’m not doing anything special.”
“Enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about us.” Allika nearly cracked before she could get Cora out the door. Then she leaned back against it. “Rayleen,” she murmured. “Rayleen.”
“What’s the matter, Mommy?” Rayleen’s eyes were sharp as lasers. “Why can’t we go to lunch at Zoology? I love seeing the animals.”
“We ca
n’t. We have to leave. We’re going to take a trip. A trip.”
“Really.” Now Rayleen brightened. “Where? Where are we going? Will there be a pool?”
“I don’t know. I can’t think.” How could she think? “We have to go.”
“You’re not even dressed.”
“I’m not dressed?” Allika looked down, studying her robe as if she’d never seen it before.
“Are you sick again? I hate when you’re sick. When’s Daddy coming home?” she asked, already losing interest in her mother. “When are we leaving?”
“He’s not coming. Just you and me. It’s best. That’s best. We have to pack. They didn’t find it, but they’ll come back again.”
“Find what?” Now Rayleen’s attention swung back and zeroed in. “Who’ll come back?”
“They looked.” Allika’s gaze shifted up. “But they didn’t find it. What should I do? What’s best for you?”
Without a word, Rayleen turned away to walk upstairs. She stood at the doorway of her room, saw that her things were moved. And she understood perfectly.
She’d imagined something like this. In fact, she’d written what she could do, might need to do, in her diary the night before. Even as she walked down the hall to her parents’ room, her only genuine emotion was a quiet fury that her things had been gone through again, moved around, left untidy.
She liked her things exact. She expected her personal space to be respected.
She went into her mother’s drawers where the medications were hidden. As if anyone could actually hide something from her. They were so stupid, really. She slipped the bottle of sleeping pills into her purse along with her diary, then moved to the sitting area and programmed herbal tea.
Her mother favored ginseng. She programmed it sweet, though her mother rarely took much sweetener.
Then she dissolved a killing dose of sleeping pills into the sweet, fragrant tea.
It was all simple, really, and she’d thought about doing this before. Considered it. They would think her mother had self-terminated, out of guilt and despair. They’d think her mother had killed Mr. Foster, Mr. Williams, then hadn’t been able to live with it.
She knew her mother had had sex with Mr. Williams. She’d confessed it the night before the police had come to search. Rayleen was good at hearing things adults didn’t want her to hear. Her mother and father had talked and talked, and her mother had cried like a baby. Disgusting.
And her father had forgiven her mother. It had been a mistake, he said. They’d start fresh.
That had been disgusting, too—just like the sounds they’d made when they had sex after. If anyone lied to her the way her mother had to her father, she’d have made them pay. And pay and pay.
Actually, that’s what she was doing now, she decided as she set the oversized teacup on a tray. Mommy had to be punished for being bad. And by punishing her, it would all be tidied up again.
Then it would just be her and Daddy. She’d really be his one and only with Mommy gone.
She’d have to put her diary in the recycler now, and that made her mad. All because of that mean, nosy Lieutenant Dallas. One day she’d find a way to make her pay for that.
But for now, it was better to get rid of it.