Page 85 of What the Wife Knew

Slim blue jeans. Legs. “No, no, no.”

I skidded inside and fell to my knees beside her slumped body. She sat on the floor in front of the couch with her hands palms up beside her thighs. Her head had rolled back onto the ivory cushion now stained red beneath her ear. I stared at her chest hoping to see air move in and out. Before I could check for a pulse, I heard footsteps.

“She deserved it.” Kathryn’s eerie voice cut through the silence.

I saw the bat first. Kathryn held it as she loomed over me. This bitch thought I was going to let her take a swing. As if I wasn’t going to kick and scream this house down before she could touch me.

Wedged between the furniture and Mom’s body, I didn’t have many options. Looked like all the useless decorative stuff in the room finally had a purpose. The first coffee table book hit Kathryn’s arm and she yelled in outrage. I threw the second one harder, aiming for her head but she ducked in time.

Next came the basket with those glass balls Richmond insisted were handcrafted and expensive. They looked like ornaments without the hooks. Perfect for fighting off a woman lost in her rage.

The first ball bounced off Kathryn and shattered on the floor. With the second, she turned her head in time for it to miss her face, but it cracked against the side of her head. She reeled back, stumbling and off-balance, which gave me a few seconds to climb over Mom and get up.

The fight lasted less than a minute. Then a new battle started. Kathryn let out an ear-piercing scream, part roar and filled with venom. She stalked toward me, her steps unsure and her body weaving. I beelined for the crystal lamp just as she raised the bat.

“Mom, stop!”

Chapter Fifty-Five

Her

Present Day

Portia. The second of relief gave way to a stab ofshe shouldn’t be here. The blood. The bat. Her mother’s unraveling. It was too much for me and I wasn’t a teenager already lost in a hailstorm of grief over a dead parent.

“Portia?” Kathryn lowered her arms and stared at her daughter.

Kathryn sounded bewildered. Her face no longer twisted in a mask of fury.

I jumped on the tentative cooling of Kathryn’s madness, hoping the break would give her a few minutes to wrestle back at least a portion of control over her disordered emotions. When Mom woke up she’d bring the hammer down, metaphorically and possibly literally, on Kathryn. No way was Mom going to let this go, but I couldn’t think about that now. The immediate goal was to keep Kathryn focused on her daughter and not on the destruction of my mother.

“Portia was worried about you.” My voice stayed steady despite my taut nerves.

“I do not need or want your help.” Kathryn didn’t snap. In contrast to her harried state and the weapon in her hand, shesounded like her normal, haughty self. “You found me, honey, and I’m fine.”

The woman was not fine. Hell, I wasn’t fine. It could be months before I could climb up tofineagain.

“But...” Portia frowned as her gaze wandered over her mother then to mine. “She’s hurt. What happened?”

How did anyone explain this rolling nightmare? The important thing was to get Mom help and get Portia to safety. The sight of blood splattered on the floor had haunted every one of my days for years. Portia didn’t deserve that agony.

“Why don’t you take your mom and go back home. I can handle this.” I couldn’t but what choice did I have?

“You are not her mother. I am.” That time Kathryn did snap. Her voice had a pinched quality to it.

“Then act like it. Do you really want Portia in the middle of this?”

“No, really. She doesn’t look okay. Does she need an ambulance?” Portia took a step toward Mom’s slack body on the floor.

I tried to stop her, but Kathryn got there first. She stepped into Portia’s path. “That woman attacked me, and I defended myself.”

Bullshit. Forget unraveling; this was calculating. Kathryn planned this out and had her defense ready. Attack and lie. Blame me and my mom and take no responsibility.

Richmond had taught her well.

Portia tried to maneuver around her mother. “Why would she—”

“I’ll call the ambulance.” Anything to protect the kid I barely knew and didn’t care about until a few weeks ago. She wouldn’tend up like me. Broken and spinning. Caught between nightmarish visions of the past and her mother’s unreasonable demands.

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