Page 84 of What the Wife Knew

She shook her head. “You lied and bullied your way into our lives. Richmond is dead. People are talking about him. About me.”

The hit to Richmond’s reputation had threatened her social status and she was responding with a breakdown like I’d never seen. Portia needed to stay outside. Go home. Not see this. “Let’s—”

“You don’t get to talk!” Kathryn screamed the words.

Mom would come running any second and I needed Kathryn calm by then. Elias should conduct one of his drop-ins right now... and bring an ambulance. “Kathryn...”

“I offered you a deal, probably more money than you’ve ever seen, and you refused. Richmond and I both tried to pay you off, but you had to be greedy. You wouldn’t leave.”

Even while flailing she claimed ownership of everything she’d already lost. “Okay, I know you don’t like—”

“You don’t know anything.” She moved closer. “You don’t understand what I had to put up with from him. What I had to ignore and excuse from the beginning.”

The twinge of sympathy and more than a little guilt surprised me. I’d written Kathryn off a long time ago. Seeing her now, I couldn’t ignore that she bore the brunt of the divorce. I blackmailed him but her life was the one upended. Richmond might have been an asshole, but he washerasshole. He treated her like crap, but their lives were inextricably tied and losing that anchor had her floundering.

She kept moving, drawing closer. Her dress swished against her knees, showing off dark spots by the hem. They actually ran up to her waist and ended in a larger splotch. I’d missed the marks before but not now.

Blood.

The quiet house.

A dropping sensation, like being on a roller coaster during the downswing, started in my stomach. “Where’s my mom?”

Kathryn’s expression didn’t change. “I brought my own bat.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

Her

Present Day

Run.

Not caring where Kathryn was or what she was doing, I hit the stairs. Took them two at a time. Not jogging. Racing. The hammering of my heartbeat in my ears drowned out every other sound.

Scurrying. Frantic. Bolting up and down the hallway. Wild with fear. My chest rose and fell on labored breaths. My shoes thudded against the floor, squeaking when the soles met the hardwood.

I opened every door, letting each slam against an inside wall as I scanned the floor and furniture for my mom’s sprawled body. Hating her. Loving her. The complicated reality of our relationship fell away in my desperate sprint to find her.

Mom alive. Kathryn out of my house for good. That was the plan.

I gripped the bannister and tried to wipe my mind clear. The booming screams ofyou’re too latepounded against my temples. When I finally focused again I saw Kathryn. She stood there, still in the foyer below. Motionless and quiet.

I dashed down the stairs, not caring as my shoes slipped andmy balanced faltered. I grabbed Kathryn by the shoulders and shook her. Her head bobbed back and forth. She didn’t try to fight back or push me away.

“Where is she?” All the anger and frustration that had been simmering for months exploded. I morphed from worried to crusading avenger. A storm of regrets and demands pummeled me. The battle of thewhat ifssnuffed out by the pain I wanted to inflict on Kathryn.

“You’re just like her. A manipulative little bitch, looking to make a quick buck and sleeping around to get it.”

Her taunts challenged me. She wanted me to go after her, to be the one to lose it. Not happening.

I pushed her to the side. Mom had to be down here. Close by. “Mom!”

“She can’t hear you.”

The voice came from right behind me, as if Kathryn had whispered the chilling comment in my ear. That grating tone, usually so firm and condescending, turned haunting.

A shudder moved through me as I scrambled to check the rooms on this floor. I ran past the library door then doubled back. A shoe. Mom’s shoe. Stepping inside I both wanted to see her face and dreaded finding her broken.

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