All Fall Down

“Being afraid all the time, you can’t live that way, Mia.”

“I know.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “When I met him I thought he was … everything. A real Prince Charming. Just for me.”

“Almost a god.”

“Yeah, almost.” She sighed. “In my eyes he was perfect. My knight in shining armor. I thought the rumors circulating about him were based on jealousy, not fact. All that stuff about his wife’s mysterious death, about his being questioned by the police, I ignored all that.”

“So did I.”

“Melanie didn’t,” Mia murmured, her tone bitter. “But then, Melanie always knows best.”

Ashley looked away. It did sometimes seem that way. Melanie was always the smart one. The strong one. The one who made the right choices, good decisions. And even the rare times she did make a mistake—her marriage to Stan being the most notable—she corrected the mistake on her own, without help from anyone. Even her sisters.

Ashley’s gaze landed on the pile of shopping bags by the front door. “Looks like you dropped major bucks today. Anything spectacular?”

A brilliant smile lit her sister’s face. “A little black dress. I’d show it to you but Boyd—”

“Is going to be out late tonight. A meeting. He left a note on the refrigerator.” At Mia’s wounded expression, Ashley made a sound of regret. “Sorry, sis.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I can still be sorry.” Ashley touched Mia’s arm, heart breaking for her sister. “You’re too good for him. Dump his ass.”

“I wish it were that easy.” She looked at Ashley, her expression suddenly fierce. “And don’t you dare say it is. Don’t you … dare. I’ve already heard that from Melanie and I’m sick of it.”

Turning, she strode to the shopping bags, snatched them up and started down the hall that led to the bedrooms.

Ashley stared after her, stunned. Her sister had always kept her emotions safely hidden—from others and herself. Ashley had decided long ago that Mia found it easier to deny her feelings than to deal with them. And a lot less frightening as well.

So, where had that very unMia-like outburst come from?

Ashley went after her. She found her in the master bedroom, unpacking her purchases, laying each lovingly out on the champagne-colored satin spread. She didn’t acknowledge Ashley’s presence with so much as a glance.

Ashley leaned against the door frame watching her for a moment before speaking. “Okay, so it’s not easy. It’s bloody complicated. Happy?”

“Don’t be a bitch.”

Ashley arched her eyebrows and folded her arms across her chest. “Seems to me I’m not the one who’s hormonal here. Which is okay, I applaud you expressing your emotions. It’s high time. But I’m not the one who hit you. So don’t take it out on me.”

Mia’s movements faltered, but she didn’t look up. “I know. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just mad at the world.”

“I can dig that, Mia. I really can.” Her sister looked up, her expression defiant. “But?”

Ashley drew in a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “The man hit you. He threatened you and frightened you. Maybe I’m simpleminded, but it doesn’t seem like you’re facing that tough a decision here.”

“I know, but Boyd promised he wouldn’t do it again and … and it was just that once.”

Ashley made a sound of dismay. “My God, Mia. Wasn’t once enough?”

Ignoring her, Mia returned her attention to her purchases. Ashley watched her, silently tallying what her sister must have spent. It added up to hundreds of dollars, maybe more than a thousand. In one afternoon. Mia shopped several times a week.

Suddenly, she got it. Suddenly, she understood. “You know,” she said softly, “buying things might make you feel better for a moment, but it can’t substitute for love. Nor for tenderness. Or affection.”

Mia stiffened. “Excuse me?”

Ashley motioned to the garments Mia had lovingly lined up on the bed. “It’s the money, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t leave him?”

Her sister’s face flooded with color. “I made a vow in front of God, Ashley. I promised ‘for better or for worse.’ I have to give him another chance. That’s what marriage is all about.” She tilted up her chin. “But then, you’ve never been married, so you wouldn’t understand.”

Hurt took her breath. Anger followed on its heels. “That was a cheap shot, Mia.”

“And accusing me of marrying my husband for money wasn’t?”

“That’s not what I said. I’m just trying to make sense of what makes no sense at all. Namely, why would you stay with a man who’s not only unfaithful, but abusive as well?”

“What entitles you to question me, Ash? What do you know about love? Or about commitment? Nothing. And you never will because you close yourself off from everybody.”

Ashley took a step backward. Her sister’s words pierced to her core, to her every feeling of loneliness and alienation. She saw her future stretching endlessly before her, empty and loveless. She saw herself alone, always alone.

She struggled past the image. “I know what you and Melanie say about me. That I’m a coldhearted bitch who hates men. That I’d sooner kill one than open my heart to one.”

“That’s not true! We don’t—”

“Well here’s a good laugh for you, Mia. I long for love, too. Especially when I see one of those sappy TV commercials, the ones depicting two tanned and beautiful people walking hand in hand along some exotic beach. I see that, and I want it. Then I get a grip and remind myself that it’s all bullshit.”

“It’s not, Ash.” Mia reached for her hand. “In the end, love is all there is. It’s—”

“A guy you trust punching you in the face, is that what you’re about to say? Or one who holds you down and forces himself into—” She choked the words back. “I’m not the one with a problem, Mia. You are. Because you believe in fairy tales.”

“No.” Mia shook her head. “You have the problem. You’re so afraid of being loved, you push everybody away. You refuse to see that there can be good—”

“What’s the gun for?” she demanded, cutting her sister off, unable to bear hearing another word. “Hoping Melanie will swoop in like when we were kids and save the day? Hoping she’ll put a bullet in your bastard husband’s brain?”

“Stop it!” Mia cried, grabbing her arms and shaking her. “Just stop! I hate when you get like this. What’s wrong with you, Ashley?”

Tears flooded Ashley’s eyes. She loved her sisters so much. So why couldn’t they understand her? Why couldn’t they make her feel better? Why couldn’t anyone?

She fought the tears back, focusing on her pain and rage—the twin demons she relied on so often. Her friends. Her only friends. She would show Mia. And Melanie. Someday they would know what she had done for them. And they would be grateful. And sorry. So very sorry.

“Screw you!” Ashley wrenched free of her sister’s grasp. “There’s nothing wrong with me. You’ll see. And when you do, you’ll beg me to forgive you, Mia. You’ll beg.”

10

The tequila burned as it slid down Connor Parks’s throat. He drained the glass anyway, refilled it, then tossed back another. Then another. He knew from experience that three shots, tossed back in quick succession, would catapult him to the edge of inebriation. From there he could sip and savor his way clear over.

In the past five years, he had become an expert on the numbing effects of alcohol.

Connor poured another finger of the liquor, then set the glass on the coffee table, on top of a folder stamped Photos—Do Not Bend. That folder was not alone, other folders, papers and files covered every available inch of the table, the floor around it and even the seat of an easy chair. The photos and files, the documents they contained, represented the past five years of his life. They represented his quest to find a killer and bring him to justice.