“Not lying!” Julie cried out.
“Just stop this. Be quiet; go find your sister.”
“But, Mommy,” Julie said, tugging on Scotty’s sleeve. “I picked up the phone in your bedroom, Mommy, and you were talking to no one. Sam’s mother not on the phone. No one on the phone. And we weren’t eating breakfast, either. It was lunchtime already.”
“Julie, the adults are having a conversation,” Scotty snapped. “Do you want a time-out?”
“Daddy was gone to the boat. Remember? Mr. Lathrop came to pick up Daddy and they left, and it was after that, lunchtime, you called and talked to the air. Lunchtime, Mommy.”
“Beth wasn’t talking?” Kate asked. “When your mother called her?”
Julie shook her head.
“For Godssakes,” Scotty said. “I came home for breakfast. I called Beth. We had a conversation before the men left, and she was fine.”
“Lunch, not breakfast,” Julie said. “And talk to air, ringing phone, not Mrs. Lathrop.”
“There was no one on the line?” Kate asked, and Scotty felt her gaze burning straight into her.
“Don’t listen to her,” Scotty said.
“It was lunch, tuna fish, not breakfast. That’s when you got back from Mrs. Lathrop. Blood on you here,” Julie said, touching the side of her neck and under her chin. “I told you, Mommy, wash it off, wash it off.”
Scotty didn’t listen to the rest. She saw the way Kate’s face crumpled and turned red, how she lurched toward her, and Scotty turned away. She began to walk, then run, toward the house. She was running just like Nick ran, away from what he didn’t want—in his case her—and she ran away from whatshedidn’t want: the sight of Kate’s eyes when she realized the blood Julie had seen had been Beth’s, from when Scotty had bashed her head in—when Kate realized what Scotty had done to her sister.
57
Kate was frozen in place, watching Scotty walk into the house. A black car sped up the drive, kicking gravel out behind. Scotty. Beth. White sky. Snow. Beth. Lulu chasing Scotty into the house. Beth. Scotty, no. Scotty. Now this car, this black car, coming fast. Kate couldn’t move, couldn’t feel. She was a statue. A sculpture in Mathilda’s garden. Sculpture. Owl. Beth. Beth.
She stared through the windshield, saw Conor’s eyes. Wild eyes. Staring at her. Conor jumping out of the car, door left open. She saw him running to her now, as fast as anyone has ever run, and the ice broke into a million pieces, and Kate stopped being a statue. She flew at Conor, crying now, grabbing him as hard as she could.
“It was Scotty!” she screamed.
“I know,” Conor said, holding her. “I know, Kate. Where is she now?”
“In the house,” Kate said, sobbing. “And Sam’s in there.”
58
Reid walked through the front door and found Scotty sitting on the marble stairs. Lulu stood beside her. Isabel and Julie huddled together, leaning against a grandfather clock. Everyone was very quiet. Sam was nowhere in sight. He sensed Kate behind him but didn’t turn around. His gaze was on Scotty.
She was wearing a heavy wool coat, and the heat seemed to be getting to her. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. She didn’t wipe them away. Reid saw her trying to look behind him; he wanted to block her view of Kate.
“Scotty,” he said. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“A misunderstanding,” she said. “My daughter has a disability. She didn’t know what she was saying. I’m sure if I can just explain.”
“Mom,” Isabel said. “Please just tell them you didn’t do anything.”
“Well, of course I didn’t!” Scotty said.
Reid watched Lulu walk over to Scotty’s daughters, bend down, and whisper something. She put her hands on each girl’s shoulder. Isabel struggled, as if she didn’t want to comply, but within a few seconds, Lulu had led Isabel and Julie into another room of the house.
Now Reid could hear Kate breathing heavily behind him. He didn’t want to look away from Scotty, to make sure she wasn’t holding a weapon, that she couldn’t hurt anyone else, but he threw a quick glance, saw Kate looking pure white, like a ghost with fire in her eyes.
“How could you do it, Scotty?” Kate asked.
“Sweetie, don’t even—” Scotty began.
