Page 17 of One Last Goodbye

As for their education, they’re both very bright. Olivia has excellent language skills and an impressive talent for poetry. Ethan is mathematically brilliant, and I believe I can start him on college-level trigonometry without straining him.

Gradually, my concerns regarding their parents lessen. Sean doesn’t call back during those three days, and when my emotions subside, I admit that he’s right. I’m too concerned with their private lives. I’ve been poisoned by my past experiences with wealthy families and forgotten that most scandals are petty. It’s unfortunate that Olivia and Ethan must endure their parents’ childishness, but the more I get to know them, the more I am reminded that children are resilient. With some guidanceand stability, they can lead perfectly fulfilling lives regardless of Frederick and Catherine.

And there is no murder for me to solve here. No one’s blood cries out to me from the ground for justice. No one but my sister.

So perhaps I will turn my attention away from the Jensens and back toward Annie. Or rather, I will allow Sean to turn his attention back to Annie while I focus on the children whose care has been entrusted to me.

On Saturday, the children go out again with their mother. I chastise myself further when I realize that this is the second time that Catherine has chosen to take the children out. If she truly didn’t care for them, why would she spend her free time with them?

Only one concern remains powerful in my mind: Frederick and Thomas’s illegal activities. Surely this behavior is common, if not ubiquitous, but Sean described Thomas’s activities as money laundering. If he is involved in illegal behavior like this, then he could be putting the children at serious risk. They could lose their home, their lifestyle, their family—everything.

So upon further reflection, I decide to keep Sean focused on Thomas. I’ll pull him away from the affairs, but I must know if I should expect some sort of fallout from Jensen Wealth Management’s less aboveboard activities.

I head to my room for my phone when I hear a familiar voice call, “Miss Mary. May I speak with you a moment?”

I turn to see Doctor Strauss walking through the hallway. My brow furrows. “Doctor Strauss. I didn’t realize you were visiting today.”

“I’m staying the weekend so I can conduct private sessions with the family,” she informs me. “I’ve just finished speaking to Frederick, in fact. I understand that Catherine and the children are out, so I thought I might speak with you instead.”

The cynic inside me wonders if that is the real reason for Catherine’s outing with Olivia and Ethan. Either way, I am not interested in a psychoanalysis, so I say, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m quite fine.”

“This is about the children,” she says. “Not you.”

I’m not entirely reassured, but I can’t think of a good reason to refuse. Besides, she may have information that can help me. “All right. Shall we go to the porch?” I don’t want her in my room.

“Wherever you’d like.”

I lead her to the porch, half-hoping to run into someone else. No one comes, and I resign myself to what will surely be an uncomfortable conversation.

When we sit, Dr. Strauss asks, “So how do you find the children so far?”

“They’re cautious,” I reply. “It’s taking me a while to get them to open up, but I am making headway. They’re exceptionally bright. Ethan in particular might be near-genius in mathematics.”

“Yes, he is. Not near genius. Well above. He will enjoy a very fulfilling career in academia.”

How can she be so certain of this when Ethan has never interacted with other students? His social skills are very deficient.

God, I hate therapists. A smug lot, all of them. Still, I am not in the mood to argue right now. I need the information Dr. Strauss possesses. “Olivia is very creative as well,” I add.

“She is. She’s an excellent poet. You should have her read some of her work to you when you have a chance.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you.”

She leans back and cups her chin with her hand, and I brace myself for the interrogation I should have known was coming. “Have you gone out on the lake yet?”

I blink. I didn’t anticipatethatquestion. “No, not yet. It’s the middle of winter.”

“What about the pool? It’s heated.”

My brow furrows. “Yes, it is. But… well, no, I haven’t gone swimming. I’m not much of a swimmer.”

“So you still fear water.”

“No, I…”

An image flashes in my mind. Annie flailing in a pool. Annie screaming, or was it me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Why are we talking about this?”

---