Shocking Pink (31 page)

A
ndie slept poorly. She tossed and turned, kept awake by thoughts of Raven and their conversation that evening. Raven’s behavior had been so bizarre, so off. She had chain-smoked. She had only picked at the hamburger she had professed to be starving for. She’d ordered a second glass of wine. She’d rambled.

All were highly unusual for Raven. Raven was nothing if not completely in control, all the time.

Raven had never, in all the time they had known one another, behaved quite like that. It had been strange, like being with a person she had known all her life but suddenly not recognizing her.

Andie thumped her pillow, trying to plump it, her thoughts turning to Nick and the discussion they’d had about people who had lived through intense traumas.

So, what happens if the person’s anchors are suddenly taken away? Do they go bonkers?

Did Raven feel as if her anchors were being pulled away? Andie wondered. Was that why she had acted jealous and angry? Was she striking out in fear of being abandoned? It made some sense.

Or was something else going on? Something she hadn’t shared with Andie?

Finally, around dawn, Andie gave in and got up. She made coffee and sat on her patio, sipping the strong brew and enjoying the early-morning light and the sweet scent of the new day.

She tilted her head back and breathed deeply, her thoughts turning to Nick. She hadn’t been quite truthful with Raven the night before. She had seen Nick that one time since their dinner together, when she had gone to the station.

Why hadn’t she told Raven? she wondered, bringing the mug of coffee to her lips. Why had she kept it from her? Her visit had been business only. There had been nothing personal between them.

She shook her head, acknowledging another lie, this one to herself. Nothing personal? Nothing but the way her body had hummed when she’d looked at him. Nothing but the things she had been thinking—dizzying things, thoughts that had taken her breath away and made her pulse pound.

He, obviously, hadn’t been affected the same way. He had been all-business, brusque, to the point. The macho cop doing his job.

So why had she kept the visit a secret from Raven?

Because she’d been afraid of her friend’s response. The last time she had confided her feelings for Nick, Raven had ridiculed her. She had pointed out to Andie every reason why Nick was wrong for her. Why he would break her heart. Her reasons had been valid; they had been the same things Andie had pointed out to herself.

They had also
not
been what she’d wanted to hear.

Andie sighed. She was a little old for an adolescent crush, although that was what she had. And she was a good enough shrink to see what was going on here, see how her present feelings for Nick were tangled up with the part he had played in her past. Fifteen years ago, he’d been her knight in shining armor, even if only for a couple of weeks. He had comforted and protected her. He had come along when, still reeling from her father’s abandonment, she had been desperate for a strong, steady male influence in her life.

She brought the coffee to her lips, a smile tugging at them. Good thing Detective Raphael wasn’t playing along with her fantasies.

If he did, she feared she wouldn’t be able to say no.

That he wasn’t playing along had been painfully obvious the other day. He had used her visit as an opportunity to grill her about Martha Pierpont, hoping to trick her into revealing God only knew what. She had to admit, after the intimate evening they’d shared, his cold-blooded professionalism had rankled.

And it had thrown her for a loop. She had been left standing there, remembering their evening and wanting to trust him, and feeling cornered and resentful.

The truth was, Nick Raphael made her feel.

The sun had risen, the birds had broken into a full morning chorus. Andie checked her watch and saw, unbelievably, that it was already time to go inside and dress. She had an early meeting at Martha’s mother’s with Martha, who was living there while out on bail, and Robert Fulton. He had asked her to join them. He intended to talk about Martha’s defense and attempt to convince the woman to allow Patti to testify. So far, Martha had been adamant that she not.

Just as she had been adamant in her denial of Andie’s suspicions concerning Edward and his daughter. Every time Andie tried to bring it up, Martha either shut down or became childishly defiant. Maybe they would have more luck today.

With a last glance at the beautiful morning, she stood and went inside to dress.

An hour later, Andie was greeting Martha Pierpont and her mother. Robert had not yet arrived, they told her as they invited her inside. Andie handed the older woman a box of pastries from the Little Switzerland Bake Shop, home of the best pastries in Thistledown. “I couldn’t resist,” she said. “Their apple strudel is to die for.”

Rose Turpin smiled. “Thank you so much. I’ll go put these on a plate.”

Left alone with Martha, Andie turned to her. She caught the woman’s hands. “How are you?”

Martha squeezed her fingers then drew her hands away, her small smile distant but unerringly polite. “Fine, thank you. And you?”

The last few times she had seen Martha, it had been the same thing—the woman had been distant but polite, refusing to face emotionally anything that was happening to her, even if only by admitting to fear, pain or regret.

Andie had tried to convince her to return to therapy, they could meet at her mother’s, she had offered. Martha had refused, claiming she couldn’t afford it. When Andie had assured her there would be no charge, she had found another excuse, then another.

Denial had gotten Martha through most of her adult life, and she had turned to it now, to get her through this.

“Martha,” Andie said, “please, talk to me. I know you’re going through a difficult time. A horrible time. Not acknowledging your feelings will only—”

“I told you, I’m doing very well.”

“Can’t I say anything to convince you to return to therapy?”

“There’s no need now. Ed’s gone.”

“There’s every need.” She lowered her voice. “I’m not the enemy, Martha. I’m here for you. I want to help.”

Martha stared at her for a moment, her expression blank, then smiled brightly. “Thank you, Dr. Bennett. I do appreciate it.” She glanced at her watch. “Robert should be here any moment. Why don’t we get you a cup of coffee?”

Martha started for the kitchen without pausing to ask if Andie wanted a cup. Andie followed her. Rose met her eyes as they entered the kitchen. She looked worried.

The doorbell rang. “That’ll be Robert,” Martha murmured. “I’ll get it.”

As soon as she left the room, Rose turned to her. “Something strange is going on, Dr. Bennett. Between Martha and Patti.”

“Strange? What do you mean?”

“I heard them arguing. Patti was begging her mother to let her do something. Martha was very short with her and Patti left the room in tears. Before she did, she shouted that she hated him.”

Her father, obviously.
“Has Patti confided anything to you about the night her father was killed? Anything contrary to what she and Martha have told the police?”

“No, of course not.” Rose frowned. “What are you getting at?”

Patti entered the kitchen, her cheeks bright pink, her expression guilty. Andie suspected the girl had been standing just beyond the doorway listening. “Hi, Gram.” She slid her gaze toward Andie, then looked quickly away. “What are these?” she asked, going to the platter of pastries. “Can I have one?”

“Of course.” Rose put an arm around her granddaughter and kissed the top of her head. “Dr. Bennett brought them.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Robert said as he and Martha entered the room.

Martha saw her daughter and paled slightly. “Patti, honey, why don’t you get a pastry and go back to your room. We have some things to discuss in private.”

“I want to stay.”

“Not today, sweetheart. Get yourself a strudel and—”

“No.” Patti cocked up her chin. “I’m not a baby anymore. You can’t just send me to my room.”

“Oh, yes, I can. I’m your mother. And this conversation is for adult ears only.”

“Actually,” Robert murmured, “I have no problem with Patti sitting in. After all, it has to do with her, as well.”

“See!” Patti exclaimed.

Martha began to tremble. “I said, go to your room.”

The girl dug in, facing her mother defiantly. “Why? I know what you’re going to talk about. Me. About me testifying.” She turned to the lawyer. “I want to do it.”

Martha sucked in a sharp breath. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Patti cried, her expression anguished. “I should. You know I should.”

“This has nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with me? Dad’s dead, and you’re charged with his murder, and you say it has nothing—”

“That’s enough, Patti.”

“No, it’s not.” She lowered her voice, sounding suddenly more adult than Martha. “It happened, Mom. All of it, no matter how much you want to deny it. It happened and it’s not going away.”

The woman struggled to compose herself. “I’m your mother, I know what’s best for you.” She held her daughter’s gaze. “I don’t want to hear another word about this.”

Robert stepped in. “If you’re worried about her time on the stand, Martha, let me reassure you, the prosecution will go easy on her. It’s an unspoken rule, minors get the kid-glove treatment. And believe me, that’s not because prosecutors are such nice guys. They know that even a hint of badgering could turn the jury against them.”

“I said no.” Martha’s voice shook.

“But, Mom, you and I both know I should do this.” Her voice thickened with tears. “I want to help you. Why won’t you let me?”

Martha crossed to her daughter and gathered the girl’s hands in hers. “You have your whole life ahead of you, honey. A long, happy life. I’ve made so many mistakes, baby. Let me do this for you.”

“I don’t want you to go to jail,” she whispered, voice quivering. “I don’t think I could stand it if you did. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.” She hugged her daughter. “It’ll be okay. It really will. Go on now. I want to speak to Dr. Bennett and Mr. Fulton alone.”

“Come on, Patti-pie,” her grandma said, holding out a hand. “I’ll go with you. We’ll work on that quilt we started.”

After one last, pleading look at her mother, Patti left the room. Andie and Robert exchanged glances, then Robert cleared his throat. “Martha, your daughter wants to testify and we need her. Why not at least consider—”

“No.” She crossed to the coffee service and poured herself a cup. “Anyone else?” she asked.

Robert followed her. “Patti, more than anyone else, knows what Ed was like. She was here that night and—”

“We’ll do without her. We have Andie. She’ll testify about Edward. And so will I.” She held a cup out to Andie. “Cream? Sugar?”

Andie shook her head and took the cup from the woman.

Robert tried again. “You’re standing trial for murder. Your word, in the jury’s eyes, is suspect. After all, you’re trying to save your own skin. And, as far as Andie’s concerned, she’s a good witness except for the fact that many people have a general mistrust of therapists. There’s also the matter of your outburst in Andie’s office. If she’s on the stand, that’s fair game for the prosecution.”

At mention of the outburst, Martha looked accusingly at Andie. The woman still denied it ever happened. She swore she never said, let alone shouted, that she wanted to kill her husband.

“Children,” he continued, “are perceived as completely trustworthy and incapable of lying. Good, emotional testimony from her would take us a long way toward a not guilty verdict.”

“We’ll do it without her.” Martha walked past him to the tray of pastries. She perused it, then selected one. Robert looked at Andie as if to say, “What now?” Andie lifted her shoulders, letting him know she didn’t have an answer.

“The prosecution could call her,” he said. “You do understand that?”

Martha looked at him, pastry halfway to her mouth. “I won’t allow it.”

“You can’t stop it.”

The blood drained from her face. “Of course I can. I’m her mother. She’s a minor.”

“She’s fifteen, not five. The judge may very well allow it. If they ask.”

Martha fumbled behind her for one of the chairs, pulled it out and sat down heavily. “Hasn’t she suffered enough?” she asked, almost to herself. “Hasn’t she endured all she should have to?”

Andie crossed to her. She squatted in front of her so the woman would be compelled to look her in the eyes. “What aren’t you telling us, Martha? What really happened that night?”

“I told you. I told you exactly what happened.”

“Did Ed hit Patti? Is that why you—”

“No.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Did he…touch her? Did he force himself on—”

“No! She was in her room. She only came out when she heard the shots. I told you!”

“Martha,” she said gently, trying another tack, “I ran into Patti’s English teacher, Gwen White. She told me Patti wrote about her father, about her anger and despair. Testifying could be a good thing for Patti. You see it as a negative, as frightening and traumatic. It might be freeing instead.”

Martha began to shake her head, and Andie caught her hands. “Hear me out. This is a chance for Patti to
do
something to help you. Up until now she’s been forced to sit back and watch. Her whole life, Martha. Helpless and hurting.”

Martha’s hands were ice-cold; Andie warmed them. “Do you see? Now she’s a victim. And by forcing her to sit back and just watch what happens to you, without being given the opportunity to try to help, she stays a victim.”

The woman tried to look away, but Andie didn’t allow it. “She’s been forced to sit back and watch all her life, Martha. Let her try to help.”

Martha’s face crumpled. She seemed to age ten years before Andie’s eyes. “I know how much you love her,” Andie said. “Give her this. Let her testify.”

For one moment Andie thought Martha would relent. She saw it in her eyes, in the way she sagged in her chair, as if she didn’t have the strength of will even to sit straight anymore. Then she pulled herself together and freed her hands from Andie’s.