Killjoy (Buchanan-Renard #3)

Killjoy (Buchanan-Renard #3) Page 49

“You don’t have to do this,” John Paul said.

“Yes, I do.”

She stood on the threshold another long minute, and then she straightened her shoulders and walked in. The room was the size of a closet. She turned to the mirrored window, her hands fisted at her sides, and looked at the woman who had given her life and then had so desperately tried to take it away.

John Paul slipped his hand in hers and asked, “Do you remember her?”

“No. I was only five when she came to the house,” she whispered. “So long ago.”

Jilly sat on one side of the square metal table facing two detectives. Her back was straight, one leg crossed over the other, her hands folded on the table. The top three buttons of her eyelet blouse were undone, and the neckline opened a little wider each time she moved ever so slightly. She suddenly turned and looked directly at the mirror. Avery inhaled sharply and drew back as she felt the bile rising in her throat.

“Look,” Avery whispered.

“I see her,” John Paul said.

Avery shook her head. “Not her. Look at the detectives. Look how they’re reacting to her.”

Both detectives were leaning forward, as though they were unconsciously trying to get closer to her. One said something and then reached out and touched her hand.

“She’s working them,” Avery said.

A policeman opened the door to the interrogation room. Jilly looked up at him, then, like a languorous Persian cat, she stretched her lithe body and stood. As she followed him out the door, she paused to glance back over her shoulder and smile at the two men. Both detectives eagerly returned the smile. They watched her every movement until the door closed behind her.

Avery looked into John Paul’s eyes. “I’m ready to move on now.”

She led the way out of the police station. She didn’t look back.

Epilogue

SUNSET WAS AVERY’S FAVORITE TIME OF DAY. SHE’D GO OUT side and sit on the porch swing John Paul had built for her. She could hear the water lapping against the dock behind the house, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost smell the lilacs John Paul had planted.

The screen door opened and closed, and her husband sat down next to her. He put his arm around her, leaned back, and gave the swing a push.

“You ready for school tomorrow, sugar?”

“Yes.”

“What were you thinking about?” he asked. “Were you going to your happy place?”

She put her head on his shoulder and smiled. “I’m already there.”