Page 36 of Killer Secrets

One different person projecting her feelings onto another different person.

Though there was an elevator, Poppy spent every ride barking fiercely at the lights, so they took the stairs, Mila huffing somewhere around three and a half floors, Poppy still going strong at five. Before Mila could summon the energy to knock, Poppy did it for her, banging her tail against the wood before offering a big, deep woof!

“Jessica! Your great-grandbaby’s here to drool all over everything!” came a shout from the apartment behind them. Wynona Novak, also known as the old bat next door, had a voice that could cut through steel. Poor Poppy cringed and rubbed at first one ear, then the other, and Mila wanted to do the same.

Gramma opened the door, smiled and cupped both hands over the dog’s ears. “Better her drooling than you dribbling everywhere!” she bellowed. Then her smile grew even bigger. “I’m so happy to see you.” She snuggled with Poppy before giving Mila a hug, too.

“I see things are the same with Mrs. Novak.”

Gramma wagged one finger. “If she didn’t have her nose in my business…”

If Mrs. Novak hadn’t had her nose in Gramma’s business, Mila thought, Gramma would still have her nose in Mrs. Novak’s.

“What are you two doing out and about?”

Mila waited until they were inside, the door closed, the leash unclipped from Poppy’s collar before grimly answering with her own question. “Did you hear the news?”

“I didn’t get home until they were already doing the weather, which was just a lot of still hot, still dry, still a burn ban. Good Lord, it’s July in Oklahoma. Do they really need a weather forecast every single day?” Gramma went to the kitchen, got a treat for Poppy, then opened the refrigerator before slowly stepping away, letting it fall shut again without noticing. “Though I did hear something at the store… What was it? Oh! That rich old coot who lives in the Scarlett O’Hara house died today. Shirley said he had more money than God and more enemies than—”

Gramma broke off and stared at her. “Oh, my sweet child, don’t tell me… You weren’t…” She pressed both palms to her cheeks. “You didn’t find his body, did you?”

“No. His housekeeper did.” Before her grandmother could relax, she went on. “But I was standing about fifteen feet away. Gramma, do you think—”

“No!” The word burst out with such force that it startled all three of them. Poppy whined and moved to press against Mila’s legs, and Gramma’s shocked expression sent chills through her. That thought hadn’t occurred to her yet, and Mila was sorry she’d put it in her mind.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” Gramma gripped her hands so tightly that just seeing it made Mila’s own fingers ache. “It’s just… I know we don’t talk about this. Maybe we should, I don’t know. Dr. Fleischer always said to leave it up to you, that if you wanted to discuss it, you would, but you never did, and it was just easier not bringing it up myself. But, Mila, this can’t have anything to do with them. They’re dead, and I thank God for it every day of my life. I would regret even giving birth to her, but if I hadn’t, I never would have had you, and I can’t even imagine how much less my life would be without you in it.”

Emotion rose in Mila’s chest, clogging her throat. She knew what her life would have been like if her grandmother hadn’t rescued her. More brutality, more abuse, more victims, until it was her turn. Even then, she’d known her father wanted to kill her, known her mother wanted to see it. She’d known they were saving her for last.

Gramma came around the counter and wrapped her arms tightly around her. “They’re dead,” she whispered, “and no one on this earth knows what they did but you and me and Dr. Fleischer, and he will never, ever tell. There’s no way this can have anything to do with them, none at all. It’s just a horrible, horrible thing that you’ve gotten caught up in.”

Mila relaxed in her embrace, her grandmother’s shudders making it difficult to feel her own. She was right. There was no way these two deaths could be connected to her parents. The murders they’d committed, if not perfect, had at least gone undetected. They’d changed locations and identities so often that they had spent the last fifteen years buried under names not even remotely connected to their own. They were beyond wreaking any more havoc on her life.

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