Noah was lying on his side, facing her. How Oliver had gotten him into the bed was a mystery, since Noah was so much larger, but his position wasn’t natural. Oliver must’ve lured him to the bedroom and stabbed him when he wasn’t expecting it. Leaning forward, Jane could see the holes in Noah’s back, evidence of fifteen or twenty vicious thrusts. As if Oliver had always hated his brother…

She stood there shaking for several seconds, then told herself to find the knife. She knew from the trial that the weapon was important. But she couldn’t look. She was beginning to retch. At first it was just dry heaves, but soon the bile rising in her throat emptied onto the carpet.

Oliver had murdered Noah. The same way he’d murdered the women along the American River. Detective Willis had told her about those women. They’d been raped before they were murdered, and they’d had their throats cut instead of being stabbed in the back. But they, too, were dead by Oliver’s hand.

The violence—the truth—made her ill.

“Mom? What happened in here?”

Kate’s voice drifted to her from the front room. She’d gotten out of the car, discovered the mess.

Staggering to the wall, where she paused to brace herself, Jane gulped in some air and fought down her body’s convulsive reaction. She didn’t want her daughter to see what had occurred in the bedroom, didn’t want Kate to know just how brutal her father could be.

“St-stay right where you are, Kate.” Her wispy voice betrayed the weakness she felt in every muscle, every joint, but she made herself leave the room and start down the hall. “I’m coming.”

“Where’s Daddy? Is Daddy okay?”

“He’s…fine.” Jane stumbled as she reached the end of the hall and had to pause again for breath. A rubbery sensation made her legs difficult to control, even though her mind was screaming at her body to take immediate action. She couldn’t even think straight. A jumbled mix of memories and fragments paraded through her mind: Noah telling her he loved her, Oliver’s phone calls from prison, her standing in Oliver’s room at the hospital, talking with Detective Willis at the salon, watching Skye on television calling for tougher laws against violent offenders, seeing blood in the bed she’d shared with the man who was now dead and the man who’d killed him…

“Mommy?” Kate hurried toward her. “Are you sick?”

“I’m okay.” She managed a tremulous smile, grateful for the slight support her daughter gave her when Kate slipped those skinny arms around her waist.

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s gone.” Or at least the man they knew was gone. Maybe he’d never existed to begin with; maybe he’d been just a reflection of what they’d wanted him to be. The real Oliver Burke hid inside the friendly, mild-mannered shell that had fooled almost everyone, that had fooled her for years.

Kate looked confused. “But his truck’s here.”

“He must’ve taken Noah’s car.” The mention of Noah’s name conjured up the image Jane had just seen in the bedroom and threatened to make her retch again. Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut and kissed her daughter’s forehead, focusing on the fact that Kate was alive and well. “We have to go.” Before your father comes back….

“But we just got home! I want to play with Lara!”

The confusion and fear in Kate’s eyes helped Jane pull herself together. She knew she hadn’t been the best mother in the world. Since Kate was two, she’d been consumed by her own misery and the constant struggle to get through each day. But she was going to shield Kate from this if she could.

“Your uncle Noah’s had an accident. We have to get some help.”

“Let her go to Lara’s. I think she’ll have a much better time over there, don’t you?”

Oliver. The hair on the back of Jane’s neck stood up as she sensed her husband behind her. Releasing Kate, she stiffened and stepped back a little to put some space between him and their daughter. She was terrified she’d feel the point of the blade he’d used on Noah, but she was even more terrified he’d try to use that knife on Kate. Kate mustn’t catch so much as a glimpse of it. No one was sacred to him. Jane understood that now.

“Daddy, you’re here?” Kate tilted her head back and smiled up at him, and the sight twisted Jane’s heart. Please, God, not her. Maybe I deserve it, but she doesn’t.

“Of course I’m here, baby.” He put a hand on Jane’s waist to hold her where she was. Jane was pretty sure his other hand held the knife. “Everything’s fine,” he told her. “I’ll get the help Uncle Noah needs and Mom can start cleaning up, okay? You run along and play.”

Kate seemed to realize something was off. “Where’s Uncle Noah’s car?”

“I picked him up. I’ll be taking him home later.”

A flicker of confusion entered Kate’s gray eyes, but Jane spoke before her daughter could ask to see her uncle. “Go on now. If you don’t, it’ll be too late. And when you’re done, call your grandma to pick you up.”

“Won’t you be home?”

“I’ve gotta work,” she lied.

Presented with the opportunity she’d been angling for since she woke up, Kate hesitated only another moment. Then her round face broke into a smile, and she skipped out of the house. “Bye!” she called just before the door slammed.

“Goodbye,” Jane whispered. Then Oliver’s arm slid around her waist and he pulled her against him.

“You’re getting old and fat, you know that, Jane?” he breathed into her ear. “Old and fat has never been very appealing.”

She closed her eyes. What did it matter if she was old and fat? It was over. She’d married a man who’d destroyed her from the inside out—and now he was going to finish the job.

“And you stink,” he added. “I hate the smell of cigarettes.”

She ignored the spiteful jab. “Why?” she whispered.

“Why am I going to kill you?”

“Why did you marry me in the first place?” It certainly wasn’t because he’d loved her. She didn’t think Oliver had been capable of love even back then. The only person he’d ever cared about was himself.

“After finding out what you’ve been doing with Noah behind my back, I’ve been wondering that myself,” he said. “He’s waiting for you right now, you know. In the bedroom. He wants to fool around, only this time I’m going to watch. No more making me the stooge. No more lies. Let’s see how badly you want him now, huh, Jane? Let’s see him get it up for you.”




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