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Tanaka said, “And you’re sure Ivy took it.”
“It went missing that same day that she was here! I tell you, that girl is trouble. She’s on a path to nowhere good.” She cast a glance at her husband as if daring him to disagree. “I banned her from the house. Gathered up every bit of her things and shipped them back to her.”
Victor winced, but either Elana was oblivious or just didn’t care about his feelings as she added, probably not for the first time, “I won’t have Ivy peddling her bad attitude around my girls. Who knows what she’s into? Boys. Older boys. Men, really. And they’re not from the country club where Paul plays golf, let me tell you.” She was on a roll now. “She was even sent to a mental hospital, up in Washington somewhere.”
“Oregon. Portland, Oregon,” Wilde said.
She rounded on him. “The point is, Victor, she’s psycho!”
“No.” He stood then and shook his head, but he was still sweating. “She just needs some guidance.”
“Not from you. Or me.” Elana was poking an index finger at her husband now. “I don’t want to wish anything bad to happen to her, I’m not saying that, but she’s not welcome here ever again. Not around me. Not around the girls. And not in this house!” She was breathing hard as she unzipped her coat. “I’m sorry,” she said to the detectives without a trace of regret, “but that’s how I feel.”
“She’s not psycho,” Victor said tensely, getting to his feet.
“‘Troubled’ then. Yes, let’s say ‘troubled.’” She turned to the detectives and her husband’s face reddened as she went on. “That’s the word we use for it now. ‘Troubled.’ But there’s something wrong with her. No friends to speak of, at least none that we know about, and there’s something deep and disturbing and . . . well . . . evil about her.” She angled her chin up defiantly, daring her husband to deny it. “There, I’ve finally said it. Out loud. What you and I have thought for years.”
“For the love of God, Elana.”
“It
’s the truth.” Then, as if realizing for the first time that her children were hearing her every word, she added, “She went to a mental hospital for a while and, if you ask me, her stay there did more harm than good.”
“That’s not true,” Victor said, challenging his wife. “Ivy . . . did have problems. Was suicidal. Brindel and Paul put her into a place in Portland, Oregon, and she came back better.”
“Did she?” Elana asked, then to Tanaka, “And now her mother and stepfather are dead.”
Victor shook his head. “Not connected! Don’t even put the two thoughts together. Jesus, Elana, what’s wrong with you?”
“With me . . . ?” His wife gave him a hard look. “I think we’re done here. We, I mean, Victor and I, have no idea where Ivy is, and as for Brindel and Paul . . . ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap.’ Still, it’s a shame, I know. God rest their souls.”
She said it without a lot of conviction.
“Larissa.” Paterno caught the attention of Elana’s oldest daughter. “Why do you think Ivy took your phone?”
A beat. A glance at her mother. A slight nod of Elana’s head. Finally, the girl replied, her voice barely audible. “Cuz I showed it to her.”
Elana said, “What did I tell you?”
Larissa’s gaze was glued to the floor. She looked like she would rather be anywhere other than this living room.
“Did you show it to a lot of people?” Tanaka asked. “A new phone and all. To your friends?”
Larissa swallowed visibly, then snuck a glance to the stairs as if she wanted to bolt.
“Of course she did,” Elana answered for her daughter. “Who wouldn’t? But what does that have to do with anything? It was Ivy. She snatched the phone.”
“You saw her take it?” Paterno asked.
Elana opened her mouth to say something and then, as if tasting the lie, she decided against it. “No, not actually take it, but Larissa had shown it to her and Ivy had played with it.”
“She was showing her how to download some apps,” Victor cut in.
“As if Larissa didn’t know how,” Elana sneered. “In this day and age? She’s twelve. She was practically born with apps.” With a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Now . . . can we wrap this up?” Her attention swung to the detectives. “I’ve got groceries in the car.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Her gaze swept to the kitchen table and the untouched do-it-yourself tools. “And we’ve got work to do.” She was frowning now, clearly unhappy that Wilde wasn’t involved in his home project.
