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“Mother, are you okay?”
“I’ll live. I guess you heard.”
“Sandra just called, and we’re all livid. Just an FYI, the general consensus is that Shelly killed Lily and set up Alan as the scapegoat.”
Leaning forward, Pam tried to take it all in. “Does Dan know this?”
“She said he knows it’s possible, but since it can’t be proven, he’s going to go along with the evidence that all points at Alan.”
“You know, I feel Dan’s pain, but I can’t get involved. He hasn’t confided in me, thank God. Yet another blow to my ego. I need to investigate why I keep doing this. He’s got a compelling schtick, but I’ve been burned enough times that I should be able to resist him. One of these days I won’t get sucked in. He seems to show up when I need him the most.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Nothing. I want to be left alone. I’m tempted to take Hocus to Randy’s ranch in Wyoming or Montana or wherever it is just to get away. I need to sell that place, anyway. It’s costing me a small fortune to maintain.”
“Well, I’m here if you need me. Are you ready to hear what I found in the candy box?” Lisa asked.
“Oh, Jesus. What?”
“Consider yourself fortunate that you didn’t keep looking through the pictures.”
“I guess I don’t need to know.”
“No, you really don’t.”
Ryan had brought in the container of Lisa’s baby pictures and mementos from Pam’s house and left it in the mudroom, where they’d conveniently forgotten about it until it caught Lisa’s eye one morning. Ryan had gone somewhere with Dan and Andy Roman; Daniela had the children out with Alison and her kids, and Lisa was alone in the cottage for the first time in a while.
“Oh, crap. I’d better do something about this.”
She took the lid off, saw the candy box sitting on the top, and grabbed it. She’d tackle that first. Grabbing a cup of coffee, she went out on the enclosed porch overlooking the sea. With the candy box in her lap, she lifted the lid. The photos on top were the same ones Pam had looked through, with Ginger Harrow lying on the bed, fully clothed, most likely taken by Brent.
The next photo sent a chill through Lisa’s body. It was of her father, Jack, standing next to Julie Hsu at the beach shack that her stepsister Laura now owned. They were both laughing, eyes squeezed shut, mouths wide open in joyful smiles, Jack’s arms entwined around Julie in a way Lisa had never seen. Julie claimed to have hated Jack’s guts, spewing forth her animosity more than once, severing a relationship with Pam because of Jack’s behavior.
Closing her eyes, Lisa tried to remember ever being at the cottage Laura now owned when Jack had been there. She knew that Julie had often spent the night with Brent in his bedroom at Pam’s house. He hadn’t needed to use the cottage to have sex with Julie. So why had Julie been at the cottage with Jack, unless it was to have sex with him?
Placing that photo aside, she picked up the next batch. They were duplicates of photos she’d seen that had been stored in Laura’s attic. Kids partying in an empty house, drinking, using the rooms and the attic to have sex.
Almost afraid to keep digging, she paused, asking herself if it was necessary to know what had happened that summer. If Brent and Jack had been having sex with Ginger Harrow, why not with Julie, too? Or with each other? Ryan had already hinted that Jack and Ryan had been lovers when Ryan was in college. Could Jack have abused Brent, too?
Looking down into the box, she saw a scrambled montage of naked bodies, familiar men and women, and knew she had a choice whether to keep going.
A sick curiosity swept over her, the need to see something vulgar yet titillating, and she knew that she was in trouble anyway; she’d tried and failed to kill Lily Porter. How would it hurt her to look at what amounted to pornographic photos of people she had once loved?
Looking over her shoulder, knowing that the contents of this innocent candy box might push her fragile partner over the edge, she didn’t pick up the next photo until she was sure she was alone.
***
Samantha Cordis came to Laura’s side door early that morning, wearing blue jeans and a sparkling white nylon down-filled jacket. Her hair was covered with a yellow knitted cap, and she wore furry mittens. Carrying a small suitcase, she couldn’t have stuck out more if she’d been covered in Christmas lights.
“I know, Henry told me to dress incognito. At least this way, no one will accuse me of trying to pull one over on them.”
“This is true. My cousin Samantha, in case anyone asks.”
“Or your Avon lady,” she said, grinning. At that point, Laura saw “Avon” written across the suitcase, and she laughed. “Avon calling.”
“Come in,” Laura said, stepping to the side. She glanced across the street and saw the curtains were still closed, Dan’s car in the driveway. “She lives across the street.”
“That’s why it’s easy for you to run on the beach with her.”
