Page 165 of Everything She Feared

A new wave of concern rolled across Marjorie.

“Do you remember what I said?” Bella stood at the foot of the bed. “I told you my dream of starting over with my daughter. I told you that after twenty years I was a changed person. I sought forgiveness. I begged you for mercy. I begged you to let me see Hayley.”

Marjorie’s face whitened.

“Ahh, it’s all coming back to you now,” Bella said. “Then you’ll remember what you wrote to me. You showed me no mercy, no forgiveness. And you present yourself as a good person, always helping others, holier than thou. You took Hayley from me! You turned her against me! You said I didn’t exist! Well, I do exist!”

Marjorie reached for her button to alert the staff for help.

Bella slapped her hand away.

“It took me a long time to find you. But, when you use a lawyer and go through the state and county bureaucracy, flooding them with every sort of written request, well, things like names and addresses slip through the cracks. And I crawled through one of them. Here I am.”

“Please leave.”

“You may have turned Hayley against me. But when I learned about Katie, my beautiful granddaughter, my heart soared.”

“Please. Just leave.”

“You look uncomfortable. Let me take care of that for you.”

Bella looked at the large pillow next to the bed. She picked it up with both hands.

“How I’ve waited for this day. You know today’s date and what it means?” Bella slowly raised the pillow. “The numbers and the date align. Today’s the day you took everything from me.” She stepped closer to Marjorie. “And today, I’ll take everything from you.”

85

Bothell, Washington

Hetta Boden pridedherself in keeping all her client files up to date and orderly.

In every case the notices of the fee increase at the Silverbrook Hills Senior Living Home had been addressed by the families or estates.

All but one.

The case of Marjorie Cole.

This annoyed Boden because the deadline was looming and it was as if Cole’s daughter, Sara Harmon, didn’t care. Didn’t Sara realize that the home may be forced to deliver her mother to her doorstep?

Working into the evening in her office, Boden bit her bottom lip.

Then she snatched the keys for Suite 404. Perhaps if she stressed the situation directly to Marjorie, she could convey it to Sara.

Boden took the elevator to the fourth floor and stepped into the hall. She turned the corner and stopped at 404.

She knocked on the doorframe.

“It’s Hetta Boden, Mrs. Cole,” she said to the closed door. “I need to speak to you.”

Boden waited in the silence then knocked again.

“Are you in need of help? I’m coming in, Mrs. Cole.”

Her keys jingled. She unlocked the door and swung it open.

“Mrs. Cole?” Boden stepped inside to a still room.

Her bathroom door was open, the light off. The TV was off. Boden stepped toward the bed and froze.

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