Stolen(69)

Laura’s vision clouded.

She grabbed onto the buffet table for support.

The note!

“We received this important evidence mere hours ago, and our managing editor, the esteemed Roland Pritchard, has already contacted the FBI and the Denver Major Crimes unit. Naturally, we’ll be turning both items over to the authorities as soon as arrangements can be made. But the public has the right to know the contents of this disturbing letter.”

Laura’s heart had galloped itself out, and now was limping along at a slow clip-clop in her chest. She chugged the rest of her juice, hoping the extra fluid might keep her from fainting. It sloshed around in her stomach, making her want to retch.

Kourtney’s red lips opened and closed like a talking doll.

Laura couldn’t look away as the terrible words came out of the reporter’s garish mouth:

Dear Mommy and Daddy,

I’ve done it again. I know you don’t want to believe that your child, whom you have lavished with so much love, could be a murderer. But finally, I need you to believe the truth.

This is the real me.

It was I who killed Angelina Antonelli. I can’t explain why or how. I have no memory of the event itself. My mind goes blank, as if I’m in a deep, deep sleep.

But now I’m awake, and I know I’ve done wrong. The evidence is right here in my hand. All these years, I’ve kept a lock of Angelina’s hair.

And now, I’ve killed my beautiful friend, Harriet Beckerman.

I’m holding her hair in my hand as well. I tied it with a ribbon, just like Angelina’s.

I’ll enclose both in this envelope as proof I’m telling the truth.

Harriet befriended me when I moved to Denver. She was haunted by her own demons and reached out to help me.

I can’t believe this is how I repaid her.

I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.

I’m like the little girl in that movie The Bad Seed. No matter how hard I try, I cannot control my impulses. There’s only one way for me to stop.

Please forgive me for leaving you like this, but I must end this nightmare once and for all. It’s the only way I can be sure I’ll never hurt anyone again. I’m such a coward. I tried once more, and failed once more, to die by cutting my own throat. But, I have pills, and I promise to finish the job.

Do not blame yourselves. You’ve done everything a mother and father could do.

I love you.

This is good-bye.

Laura





Chapter 36





Sunday, October 27

8:30 A.M.

Boulder, Colorado



Last night, after being “officially” ordered off the Chaucer case and “unofficially” told to lay low nearby, Spense and Caity traveled to Boulder to be with the moms. Though it frustrated him, mostly because he knew he was to blame for getting Caity blackballed by the Major Crimes commander, Spense couldn’t help thinking the situation wasn’t all bad. He had some very important family business to attend, which was why he’d flown his mom, Agatha, out to be with Caity’s mom, Arlene. This visit gave him the perfect chance to drop his bomb without having to abandon his mother before she could process the news.

And with four back-to-back cases in a row, he knew Caity could use a breather.

He knocked, waited a beat, then pushed open the door to Caity’s room. He’d been to Arlene and Caity Cassidy’s Boulder home before, but he’d never seen her bedroom. “Not a knickknack kind of a girl, are you?”

Caity sat on a bench in front of the vanity mirror in the nearly naked space. She ran her fingers through her melted chocolate hair, swiped on some Chapstick and turned to him—stopping his heart dead. “I’m hardly ever here.”

He knew that, of course. Caity traveled a lot with her psychiatric consulting business, and up until recently things had been tense between her mother and her. He suspected she shared a house with her mostly out of a sense of duty, and that this was more rest stop than home. Still, he’d expected something more than four vanilla walls, an off-white bedspread, and a photograph of her father displayed on the vanity.

Spense made a mental note to get her a colorful throw pillow and a scented candle. Maybe his mom could help pick them out.

“Arlene said to tell you she wants us both home for dinner.”

“Why doesn’t she tell me herself?”

“She just went out—some kind of friend in need.”

Caity nodded. “Right. She mentioned it last night. Her neighbor, Bailey, doesn’t drive. This is the day Mom chauffeurs her around to do errands and such.”

She got up and took his hand.

Thank God the woman was no good at holding grudges.

“I think I’ll run some errands of my own. Might be a good time for you to have your talk with Agatha.”