Murder at Barclay Meadow (36 page)

“That's so sweet.” My chest filled with a ballooning ache. “What an incredible child.”

Corinne's expression hardened. “Back to that afternoon.” The tears stopped abruptly. “I got stuck in traffic on my way to the game. When I arrived, it was over. I saw Bill's car, so I got out. That's when I saw them.” Her bottom lip trembled.

“You
saw
them?”

“They were in the backseat of Bill's car. I could hear him grunting like a pig.” She closed her eyes, held them shut for a moment as if recalling the memory, and opened them again. “And I saw Rhonda underneath him through the window. They never knew I was there.”

“I'm sorry. I have an idea of how—”

“Tell me everything you know,” she interrupted.

“Okay.” I jumped when I felt a tail weave through my legs. I looked down to see a large Maine Coon cat rubbing my calf with the side of its face. I scooped him into my lap. His motor kicked in and he began to knead my skirt. “What a beautiful cat,” I said.

“I could care less if he lived or died.”

My eyes shot up. “But—”

“Bill gave him to Megan for her sixteenth birthday. She named him Sweetie Pie. But now that she's gone, I can't look at him. I barely remember to feed him.”

I put the cat back on the floor and recrossed my legs. Foreboding pulsed through me. It felt as if the air were a mass of static electricity prickling my skin, lifting my hair at the ends. “I will help you in any way I can.” I tried to gauge what she was ready to know. Her pupils were unusually large. I suspected she had taken some sort of prescription meds. “First of all, please know it was never about being nosy. I have asked questions because I could see your daughter was a kind and sweet girl. I have a daughter of my own. And the more I discovered, well, things just didn't add up.”

“Like what?” She scooted forward in her seat, barely perched on the edge.

“Let me ask you this. Don't you and your husband believe Megan committed suicide?”

“I did.” Her brow furrowed. “At first.”

“Why?”

“There was a note among her things. Bill read it and asked the police if he could keep it.”

“Did he show it to you?”

She shook her head. “I was on tranquilizers. He knew I was fragile. I couldn't bear to see it. And then David Carmichael urged us to remain quiet. He said it would allow us to keep our dignity if Megan's death was ruled an accident and not suicide. The sheriff wanted to look into it. He wanted an autopsy or to at least find out what was in her stomach, but David and Bill somehow convinced him to let us grieve in peace.”

“And you've never seen the note?”

She shook her head. “My daughter was dead. Bill said she took her own life. That's all I could bear to hear. I mean…” She choked back a sob. “She had been through so much. Megan had to leave Delaware to get away from the gawkers. She didn't want to leave, but Bill insisted. They had horrible arguments before she left for school.” Corinne dragged her hands through her hair. “After she died, I didn't want anyone to know I was such a horrible mother, my only child would kill herself.” She dropped her face into her hands. “Oh, God. What have I done?” She gasped out a sob. It caught in her throat and an animal cry of pain spilled out of her. She fell forward, clutching her stomach with both arms.

I started over to her, but her head shot up.

“No,” she said in a tight voice. “Stay where you are.” The muscles in her neck bulged. Her eyes were red, the lids swollen. “I'll be all right. I do this all the time.”

“Corinne,” I said as I sat back down. “I have been blind to many things myself. Sometimes we only see what we think we can endure. But I do believe we do the best we possibly can at the time. A mother's road is never straight nor easy.”

She stuffed her hands in her lap. “Why do you think my daughter was murdered?”

“Like I said, too many things don't add up. But Corinne, if you want me to stop asking questions, I will.”

“What if you're right? If she didn't commit suicide, I want to know. I'm ready to know. And if someone murdered my daughter, I want that bastard to die in the chair.”

“Do you still have the note?”

“Maybe. And if Bill hasn't destroyed it, I know exactly where it is.” She stood quickly and had to steady herself.

“Are you sure you're ready?”

“I should have done this months ago.” She started to walk and I hurried after her.

We entered a dark-paneled room lined with shelves and hardcover books. Corinne walked over to a filing cabinet, opened the top drawer, and felt underneath. “Bill thinks I don't know where this is.” She removed a small key that was taped to the bottom. “He's always taken me for a fool.”

She opened a cabinet door and inserted the key into a glossy black safe. We peered inside. The first thing I noticed was a gun. I froze when she picked it up. But she just moved it aside and rifled through a stack of documents—birth certificates, insurance policies, passports.

“There,” I said when I saw a water-stained envelope. “That's it. It was in her backpack. I saw it in the evidence bag the night I found her.”

Corinne picked it up. “Independence Day.” She shoved it into my hands. “Read it to me?”

“Of course.” I lifted the flap and pulled out a creased sheet of paper. Megan had typed it on her computer. The ink hadn't smeared in the river water. I cleared my throat. “Ready?”

“Just read.”

Dear Predators,

This includes my stepfather, my professor, and every one of you creeps who stalks me at soccer games and on the Internet. It includes the women and friends who can only feel envy and hatred toward me instead of getting to know me as a real human being. I no longer belong to any of you. I am starting anew. None of you will ever see or hear from me again. I am finally taking control of my own life.

To the people I love, especially you, Mommy, know that I am alive and searching for happiness at last. When I am ready, I will bring you to me and find you the help you need.

I swallowed back the emotion overwhelming me and continued to read.

Today is my Independence Day.

Signed,

The phoenix who was once Megan Johnston

I looked up. Corinne was staring hard at the floor. I folded the letter back into the envelope. “This isn't a suicide note.”

“No.” She raised her head and looked at me, her eyes questioning. “Why would Bill hide this from me? I've been going through hell all these months thinking she killed herself.”

“I don't know,” I said. “Maybe because of how she refers to him?”

Corinne took the letter from my hands, tucked it into the safe, and started to close the door. She hesitated and reached for something. I watched as she removed an aged, leather-bound book.

She turned it over in her hands. “Megan's diary.” Corinne perched gingerly onto a plaid upholstered chair. “Bill never told me he found this. It must have been in her dorm room.”

The clasp had been pried open. Every muscle in my body tensed as Corinne flipped through the pages until she came to the last entry.

“Corinne?” I said. “Are you sure…”

“‘Dear Diary,'” she read.

I placed a hand on her arm. She shook it away and continued. “‘This will be my last day at John Adams University. I've packed my bags and have an escape plan. No one knows what I am going to do and I feel as if a thousand weights have been lifted from me.'”

“Oh my gosh,” I said. “This is the day—the day she…”

“Her writing is sloppier here,” Corinne said quietly. “And she pressed hard with her pen.” She lifted the diary closer to her face and continued to read. “‘My stepfather is coming here today. I told him to stay away. I don't want him to know my plans. But he should know it's because of him. I can't take his controlling me anymore. He is like a noose around my neck. I hate him with every fiber of my being. I wish my mother had never married him. But this is it. This is the last time I will ever have to see him and before I go, I will tell him how I feel.'”

She closed the book and held it over her heart, clutching it tightly, as if she were holding the last remnant of Megan.

“Corinne,” I said. “Can I get you something? A glass of water?”

“No. I'd rather just sit here alone.”

“I can't let you do that.”

“You're very stubborn.” She smiled weakly. “But I would like you to leave now.”

“What will you do?”

She shook her head and said in a barely audible whisper, “I don't really know.”

I startled when I felt a tail on my legs. I looked down. Sweetie Pie wove between my ankles.

Corinne looked over at me. “Rosalie…”

“Yes?”

“You really want to help me?”

“Any way I can.”

“Take him.”

“The
cat
?”

“Yes.”

“But … all right.” I picked him up. Sweetie bumped his chin against mine. His claws pierced my shoulder.

“Now, thank you for all that you've done, but I can handle things from here.”

I fetched my purse from the living room and returned to Corinne. She hadn't moved. I wasn't sure what to do. I was turning to leave when the front door latch clicked. Corinne and I waited, motionless, as we listened to Bill's heavy footsteps draw nearer.

“There you are,” he said. He flinched when he saw me. “What in the hell are you doing here?” His mouth fell open when he eyed the open safe. He looked back at Corinne. “What's that you're holding?”

“Nothing,” Corinne said. She stood slowly and walked back to the safe.

I set Sweetie Pie gently on the floor. He let out a soft mew and trotted away. With Bill intent on Corinne, I slid my phone out of my purse. I clicked on the emergency icon so that I didn't need to take the time to type in my pass code.

“What's going on here?” Bill demanded.

I tucked my phone behind my back and glanced up.

Bill looked over at me. “What did you tell her?”

“I don't know what you mean,” I said.

“I invited her,” Corinne said and faced him.

“No!” I gasped.

Bill spun around and stared into the barrel of a gun. He held up his hands instinctively. “Honey, what are you doing?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

“Come on, now.” He took a step toward her.

I whipped my phone from behind my back. I typed 911 on the keypad and ducked it behind my back again.

“Are you feeling all right, Corinne? Should I get you one of your pills?” Bill said.

“Stop walking,” she warned. “Or I'll shoot you in your left ventricle.”

“What?” he said. “But, why?”

“You killed my baby.” Her hands quivered. “My one and only baby!”

“No, honey, you have it all wrong.” He looked over his shoulder at me and then back at her. “Don't you see?
She's
the one you should be shooting.”

My eyes widened.

“
She's
the one who is causing all the trouble,” he continued. “If
she
hadn't started stirring things up, you and I could go on with our lives.”

Corinne glanced at me. “No,” she said. “That's not true.” She looked back at Bill, but I could see the confusion in her eyes. “It was you.” She pulled the hammer back. “It was you all along.”

“This is craziness,” Bill said. “Why don't you let me get you a pill and a shot of scotch.”

“How did you do it?” Corinne said. “I have to know.”

“Corinne … please!” he pleaded.

“Bill,” I said. “Maybe you should just answer her questions.” My throat had dried. “Maybe once she understands she'll take that drink.” I tried to smile. “And maybe I'll take one, too.”

“Shut up,” he snapped while still watching Corinne. “Now, come on, honey, please, just put the gun down. I swear I can explain everything.”

I prayed someone had picked up the 911 call but didn't know for sure because I had muted my phone when I arrived. Luckily, in order to use my GPS to find the Johnstons' house, I had to allow my phone to use my current location. Surely 911 possessed the technology to figure out where I was. I checked to ensure the microphone was pointed out. If they answered the call, they may hear the conversation. “Corinne?” I said in a loud voice. “Maybe Bill is right. Maybe you should put the gun down and stop threatening to kill your husband.”

“You tell me what happened,” Corinne spat. She raised the gun to Bill's forehead.

“You don't even know how to use that thing,” Bill said, his eyes staring down the barrel.

Corinne coughed out a laugh. “You want to find out?”

“No, of course not.” He took a step back. “Now would you—”

“Tell me,” she said through clenched teeth.

I inched closer.

“All right. I'll tell you.” Bill lowered his hands. “It was an accident,” he said. “All of it.”

“What?”
Corinne said.

“I took her out to dinner. She was very uptight, so I ordered us a bottle of wine. But she kept drinking glass after glass and I couldn't get her to stop. Then she started acting like a maniac. She was shouting horrible things at me, so I grabbed her arm and took her outside. She was still shouting, so I forced her over toward the marina so no one could hear her. It was getting dark and—”

Corinne shook her head.
No,
she mouthed.

“Maybe you should put the gun down while you listen,” I suggested.

“Be quiet,” she said and continued to stare at her husband.

“She was saying crazy things, Corinne,” Bill said. “I'd never seen her act like that. I tried to shake some sense into her.”