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Sitting in my car, I took another deep breath, resting my head against the steering wheel.
“That’s not going to help.”
I knew that voice. It haunted all of us.
Slowly lifting my head, I looked into the rearview mirror to find the brown eyes of my mother, sitting as if it were her car and I were her personal driver. Her hair was black except for a silver-gray streak at the front. She wore an all-black suit but no jewelry. She almost blended in with the interior of the car.
That was exactly how she had done it the first time.
WYATT—TWO MONTH’S EARLIER
“Are you done for the night, Dr. Callahan?” the nurse asked from behind the emergency room station.
“Yep,” I said, sliding off my badge. “Goodnight—”
“Ummm, do you want to get coffee with me?” she called out quickly.
It was almost midnight. Where the hell did she think she could get coffee at this time? That wasn’t the point, I guessed. That was how interested I was.
“My girlfriend would be pissed. But, thank you for the offer.” I did my best to offer a kind smile before turning and walking toward the elevators with my bag over my shoulder. Inside, I hit the basement button before leaning against the panel, searching through my phone.
She hadn’t answered any of my text messages today. Had she eaten? Or even taken a shower today? I wasn’t sure. Helen was heartbroken before, but ever since she’d gotten that package, she was devastated, knowing that I was right. Something did not make sense about how her mother had died. That whole night didn’t make sense. And it didn’t make sense because of fucking Calliope. I knew it. The woman was a snake, a cancer. She was killing us all from the inside out. And Ethan? I didn’t even have words for fucking Ethan.
Stepping out into the garage, I walked to the third parking space—the first two were for the chief of the hospital, and the chairwoman of the board—though I shouldn’t have had a space at all. But rules were different for the Callahans. Unlocking the door, I tossed my bag into the passenger seat and leaned back, closing my eyes.
“Why do people never check the back seat of their cars when they enter?”
That voice.
Whipping around so quickly I nearly hit the steering wheel, I saw them both sitting casually—my mother, dressed in a button-down shirt and jeans, staring back at me with her brown eyes, and my father beside her dressed in a green sweater, and jeans as well.
“You’d think our children would be smarter,” my father said, lifting a spoonful of hospital Jell-O to his mouth.
Was he inside?
“He’s staring. Do you think he’s in shock?” My mother reached forward, putting her hand on my forehead.
At the touch of her palm, I jumped back slightly.
“He seems conscious enough,” my father replied. “If not, we are at the hospital. If we leave him outside, someone will see him eventually.”
“Aren’t you more worried people will see you both?” I snapped. “What the fuck are you two doing here?”
“Is he cursing at me?” my mother asked, looking at my father.
“Yep. That’s why Dona’s my favorite,” he said to my annoyance.
Rolling my eyes, I sat back in my seat turning on the engine.
“Where are we going?” My father questioned.
“I don’t know what you two are doing, but I’m going home.” I replied.
“Isn’t the manor a bit depressing right now?” my mother asked.
I didn’t say anything, pulling out of the parking lot before someone saw me. Never had I been so grateful for tinted windows.
“Calliope killed your aunt,” my mother went on despite me not responding.
