Page 43 of One Last Lie

“Aah!” He sprints toward his room and slams the door behind him.

“No slamming doors!” I call after him.

“Sorry!” he calls back.

I smile and shake my head, then turn around to head back downstairs. I stop when I see Elijah and Cecilia talking quietly in the living room. It’s clear they’re arguing. Cecilia’s arms are held in front of her in a supplicating manner, and Elijah is shaking his head and glaring at her.

A chill runs through me. It’s too soon for him to reveal any suspicions. He doesn’t know that his mother is one of the suspects, but I don’t want it to slip that Elena is one either. If Cecilia confronts Elena, and Elena is the murderer, then the whole family could be in danger.

“Fine. Go have fun. Wear something nice and slutty for him.”

Elijah makes no attempt to lower his voice when he says that, and I’m grateful that the other two are behind closed doors.

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Cecilia protests, again making no attempt to lower her voice. “I’m just meeting a friend.”

"This friend has a dick?"

I decide it’s time for me to intervene. As I head downstairs, I smile and call, “All right! Movie night! Shall I order the pizza?”

“Whatever you want,” Elijah says, spinning on his heel and stalking past me to the stairs. “None for Mom. She has a date.”

“It’s not a date!” Cecilia protests. She glances at me and reddens, then folds her arms across her chest and sighs. “Forget it. I’ll call… my friend and tell them I’m not coming.”

Her careful avoidance of pronouns confirms that it is a date. This is what I fear will happen when the children learn she’s dating so soon after Johnathan’s death.

She gives me a dejected smile. “Sorry you had to hear that.”

I smile in return, but my emotions when it comes to Cecilia are all over the place right now, and I can’t muster much in the way of sympathy. I offer the comfort I would give if I was sympathetic, though. “He’ll come around. They all will. This transition is hard.”

She bites her lip and looks pensively up the stairs. In a quiet voice, she says, “Do you… do you think it’s too early?”

I answer honestly. “Yes, dear. For the children, yes.”

Her face falls a moment, but she takes the disappointment in good grace. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s not like I’d be looking for anything serious so soon after Johnathan anyway. It’s just… nice to be looked at.”

She smiles again, and any response I could have is stifled when Samuel and Isabella rush downstairs in a race to ask permission to pick the movie.

She beams at them, and once more, the love is so evident that I can't imagine her as the woman who killed these children's father.

I need to look into this letter. I hope desperately I’ll learn something that can exonerate Cecilia. If finding justice for Johnathan means taking their mother away, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to do it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Javier looks at me and says drily, “Are you sure you want me to come with you? You could joyride in the Corvette if you’d like.”

“I prefer Mercedes,” I reply, “and get over it. It was one time. Forgive me if I didn’t want to wait on a chauffeur on my day off.”

“Hey, that’s uncalled for,” he counters. “No one ever has to wait for me. I’m always there when I’m needed.”

We’re on our way to pick up dinner. The children decide on Chinese food instead of pizza, and since the only Chinese restaurant in town doesn’t deliver, I’ve been sent to pick the meal up.

“Well, Paolo got to you before I did, so what was I to do?”

“How about not risk my job if you get yourself killed in an Ashford car? I’m responsible for all of those vehicles, you know.”

“Even the helicopter?”

“Even that.” He chuckles. “Stupid impulse buy. Johnathan never even wheeled it out of the garage. I offered to fly him—and yes, I do have a license—but he kept putting it off.”

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