Page 49 of One Last Lie

With that realization, I say, “Of course. Let me go get my shoes and coat.”

“I’ll go with you. I need to wake Elijah up anyway.”

I feel a touch of fear when she says that. The thought that she might push me down the stairs and claim that I tripped crosses my mind, but I can’t think of a good reason to ask her to stay in the room.

When the dining room door closes behind us, she grabs my arm. She grips hard, but not hard enough to hurt. I meet her eyes and see anger there but also self-control.

“I have business to attend to today, so for the children’s sake, I’ll allow you to work for the remainder of the day. You will be gone by tomorrow morning, though. I’ll make sure Javier knows.”

That viciousness slithers back to my brain and brings cunning with it. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miss Cecilia. After all, the father of your children was murdered, and some of what I’ve found suggests that the children themselves may also be in danger.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Maybe. But I was tasked with caring for your children. It would be irresponsible of me to abandon them to be targeted by a murderer. I think you and I should work together to discover the identity of this killer. I would prefer not to involve the police just yet, but if I’m forced to leave caring for them, I feel I’ll have no choice.”

She looks calculatingly at me, as though trying to determine how serious I am. I keep my eyes on her, and she releases me. “We’ll talk while the children are at school.”

“Of course,” I say brightly. “I’m sure you want the vicious murderer who robbed them of a father to be brought to justice.”

She pushes past me without replying and stalks up the stairs. I enter my room and quickly gather the crossword and the note Isabella gives me earlier. I remember the tapes in Elijah’s room, and my face pales. I don’t know if she’d think to search her children’s rooms, but if she does and uncovers the fact that both Elijah and Doctor Harrow suspect…

But she wouldn’t kill her children. She loves them, doesn’t she?

I hear raised voices coming from the bedroom and rush outside. Elijah rushes out of the room, Cecilia close behind. Angry tears are streaming from her face, and she calls after him, “Fuck you! You know how much I’ve sacrificed for you?”

“I know how much you sacrificed for yourself,” he calls back. “I don’t think you give two shits about me.”

He meets my eyes and smiles tightly. “Morning, Miss Mary. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

She gives me a look of sheer hatred, and Elijah catches it. “Oh, don’t blame Mary for this. It’s not her fault you’re a selfish bitch.”

“Elijah!” I snap. “That is no way to talk to your mother.”

“No, it’s fine,” Cecilia says, still staring at me. “After all, I should be wearing black and sprinkling ashes on my face, right? I’m only worth the fucking wedding ring that neither of you seem to notice I’m still wearing.”

She yanks the ring off and flings it past us. “There. That’s better. Now I’m exactly the bitch you think I am. Don’t care about my dead husband, don’t care that half my life got flushed down the toilet, definitely don’t care about my kids. That’s me. Just a selfish bitch who dares to try to move on with her life instead of staying married to your father’s corpse.”

Elijah steps menacingly toward her. I quickly step in between them and put my hand on his chest. “Elijah! Stop it!”

“Mom?”

We look down the stairs to see Isabella and Samuel standing at the foot. Isabella has her hand on Samuel’s shoulders, and both stare up at us with trembling lips.

Elijah’s shoulders slump. He looks down, and his lower lip pushes out in a pout that makes him look very much still a child. He shakes free of my grasp and stomps down the stairs past his siblings and to the dining room. The house reverberates when he slams the door behind him.

Isabella and Samuel look up at us. His eyes plead with mine to offer some explanation for what just happened. I have none.

Isabella looks between both of us. The accusation in her glance is meant as much for me as for her mother. Samuel starts up the stairs, but she pulls him away. When he protests, she says, “Come on. The adults have some stuff they need to work out without making it our problem.”

When the door closes behind them, I turn to Cecilia to see her weeping. The anger I see before is gone. There’s only pure, unsullied grief. It hits me hard that I’ve jumped to the conclusion that she is the murderer without sufficient evidence. Rather than helping the family, I may have just aided in destroying them.

But then, why did she cover up the cause of death? Why didn't she go to the police and seek justice?

I decided to risk telling her what I found. If I don't like her explanation, I can simply leave and not return. I'm confident she won't hurt her own children, no matter what Johnathan may have written. And if she is innocent, then my presence here may be doing more harm than good.

“I found the report that listed his cause of death. Why did you tell everyone it was a heart attack?”

She doesn’t seem surprised by my admission. She just nods and says, her voice trembling, “It was a heart attack. And a stroke. The cyanide was what caused it, but I didn’t lie. I just left that part out. I figured, crazy me, that the kids didn’t need to know that their father had been murdered.”

---