Page 131 of Almost Dead (The Cahills 2)

Diedre couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Wait a minute. Because I ‘came looking’ for you, and because I found you, and stuck my damned neck out for you—that’s why you’re here now, out of prison, free as a bird.”

“Hardly.”

“Without me, you’d still be in prison.”

“Looks like I already am.” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Look at this place,” she said, walking closer to Diedre. “I’m used to living in mansions with servants, not hidden away in some crappy little run-down bungalow! Jesus, Diedre, what were you thinking?”

“That you might be grateful,” Diedre snapped. “And it’s been a long time since you lived in a mansion, or have you already forgotten about the last, what? Nine or ten years when you were in a tiny cell?” She moved closer to this cold-hearted woman who had borne her. “You just have to wait a little longer, until we get our hands on the money. We have a plan, remember? First we have to get rid of a few people.”

“I hope you include Eugenia on that list.”

“She’s not an Amhurst.”

“But she knows about you.” Marla walked to the short hallway leading to two small bedrooms. “We’ll never be safe if she’s around.” Her mouth twisted in disgust. “You have to get rid of everyone who could blow it for us, and you have to make certain that the cops think I’m long gone, or better yet, dead. The prison clothes—they should be left somewhere, with some of my blood on them, so that when they’re found the authorities will think I’m wounded…you know, maybe even dead.” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “That would be the best,” she said, the wheels turning in her mind.

“So you’ll stay here,” Diedre said, resenting the fact that she’d done so much and her ungrateful mother didn’t seem to give a damn.

“I don’t see that I have much choice until you find something better.”

“I can’t do that until we get the money.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, can’t you come up with something? My God, didn’t your parents leave you anything?”

“It’s expensive to—”

“Excuses!” Marla snapped, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s so cold in here.”

“If you could quit complaining for a second, I’ll take care of it.” Diedre marched to the thermostat, adjusting the temperature, trying to tamp down the anger that kept rising. “I thought we were in this together. A partnership. Whether you like it or not, I’m your daughter.” The furnace rumbled to life, air blowing through the vents.

“Don’t start with that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Is that what you think? Don’t tell me that you sprang me from prison because you thought that you and I had some kind of bond…a mother-daughter thing going, because that’s not how it is. I gave you up at birth because you were inconvenient in my life, get it?”

The headache Diedre had been fighting began to throb. Through her ears a great, rushing sound nearly drowned out the hated words. Still, she heard them, watched as Marla’s red lips formed the syllables.

“Giving you up for adoption wasn’t some great sacrifice because I loved you and thought you deserved a better life. I was just not ready for a baby, and I’m not really sure who your father is, okay? It was a time in my life I’d rather forget, but you came looking for me and offered me a way out of prison, so I took it. End of story.”

Diedre couldn’t believe it! How many years had she gone to the prison, pretending to be a person of faith, like Mary Smith, and met with another inmate, one who had passed the information on to Marla? How long had she worked in that joke of a job at the coffee shop, just to get close to Cissy? All this was part of Jack’s plan…for the Amhurst money…that’s what it was all about. “I–I’m your daughter.”

“You’re not my daughter. I wasn’t there for you and I didn’t want to be. I’m not about to sugar-coat this and claim that I pined away for you all my life. The truth of the matter is that I spent a few months thinking about you, and then I decided to pretend that you were dead, that I’d never see you again. I had a life to live; one without you. And I had another child, one I cared about, whose father I married. Cissy’s my daughter, Diedre, the girl I raised. You’re a stranger.”

Diedre was shaking her head, disbelieving, fighting the fury that was burning through her. “I’ve done so much for you so we could be together.”

“Oh, save me.”

Pain boiled through Diedre. Despair darkened her heart. Anger exploded in her brain. She was being rejected all over again. “You don’t mean it,” she said, but she knew. Marla was right. She’d used Diedre, played with her emotions, had never felt a pang of love for her firstborn.

“For the love of God, don’t go through some freaky, maudlin routine with me. I’ve got no time for it. We’ve got things to do.” She was walking from one end of the room to the other, pacing, thinking, her shoes tapping on the hardwood, echoing in sharp painful jabs in Diedre’s brain. “Now, do I have a bed in this hellhole or what?”

The words rang through Diedre’s head. The sharp click of Marla’s heels cut through her brain. She winced, tried to keep her thoughts straight, but for the first time she realized Marla, her own flesh and blood, her damned MOTHER, had played her for a fool. She’d used Diedre’s emotions against her. “Don’t you love me?” she whispered. Her adoptive mother hadn’t loved her, either.

“Enough! This is not about love.”

“Of course it is!”

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