Liv Constantine - The Last Time I Saw You

Kate knelt next to her daughter. “What a good job you’ve done.”

Annabelle looked up at Kate with that cherubic face, her blond curls bouncing. “Here, Mommy. You do it,” she said, handing her a puzzle piece.

“Hmm. Let’s see. Does it go here?” Kate asked, and began to put it in the wrong space.

“No, no,” she puffed. “It goes here.” She grabbed it and placed it where it belonged.

“It’s almost bedtime, sweetheart. Would you like to pick a book for Mommy to read with you?” She turned to Hilda. “Why don’t you go ahead to bed? I’ll stay with her.”

“Thank you, Kate.” Hilda ruffled Annabelle’s hair. “She’s been such a little trouper today, haven’t you, sweetheart? It was a long day.”

“Yes.” Kate smiled at her. “It’s been a long day for you too. Now get some rest.”

From the bookshelf, Annabelle pulled out Charlotte’s Web and brought it to Kate. She sat on the bed as Annabelle scrambled under the covers. Kate loved this bedtime ritual with her daughter, but the nights since Lily’s death had been different. She wanted to gather Annabelle to her and protect her from tragic reality.

As soon as Annabelle fell asleep, Kate gently took her arm from around her daughter and quietly tiptoed out. She peered down the passageway to the last guest room at the end, the room Simon would occupy. His door was open, the room dark, but she could see a light shining from beneath his bathroom door and hear the water running.

She looked away, her thoughts turning to Jake. His parents hadn’t come to the reception, so she’d never had the chance to speak to them—which might have been for the best, given how painful a reminder she must be. She and Jake had grown up in the same neighborhood and had known each other practically all their lives, but it wasn’t until they went to high school at brother-sister schools that the two of them had fallen in love. Kate could still remember their senior year, Jake smiling up at her in the stands from the lacrosse field, and no matter how cold it was on those game days in February or March, she felt all warm and glowing inside. And he never missed one of her track meets, his deep voice cheering her on. They both applied to Yale, and it seemed all but certain that they’d spend the rest of their lives together—until the night everything changed. Through the years she’d relived the night of that party over and over in her mind, imagining it had turned out differently. If only they’d left ten minutes earlier, or if they hadn’t been drinking. But of course, she couldn’t change the reality. She’d lost him in the space of a few hours. When she’d gone to his house a few days after his funeral, the blinds were drawn. Days’ worth of newspapers were scattered across the front porch, and the mailbox was overflowing. Eventually, his parents and two sisters moved away.

She continued down the hall to her bedroom to change for bed, though she knew sleep would be elusive. She padded into the bedroom, unzipped her black funeral dress, and threw it on the floor in a heap, knowing she would never be able to wear it again. When she flipped on the bathroom light and looked in the mirror, she saw that her hair was limp and her eyes red and puffy. Moving in for a closer look, she caught something dark out of the corner of her eye and froze. Sweat broke out all over her body, and she began to shake uncontrollably as she backed away in horror. She was going to vomit.

“Simon! Simon!” she screamed. “Come here. Hurry!”

In an instant, he was beside her as she continued to stare at the three dead mice, lined up in the sink, their eyes gouged out of their heads. And then she saw the note.

Three blind mice

Three blind mice

See how they run

See how they run!

They all ran after a charming life

He took their eyes with a carving knife

Did you ever see such a beautiful sight?

As three dead mice?

Blaire had played her reunion with Kate over and over in her mind through the years—what she would say to her, how Kate would beg to be her friend again, and the crushed look she’d get when Blaire told her it was too late. It would be Kate’s turn to feel the pain of betrayal, just the way Blaire had felt when Kate kicked her out of her wedding after their terrible argument that morning. And then she’d elevated Selby from a regular bridesmaid to maid of honor in Blaire’s place. The truth was, Kate had never been far from Blaire’s mind over the years—she’d heard news about her through their other friends and seen glimpses of her life in their pictures on Facebook. But since Blaire felt she was the injured party, there had been no way she was going to come crawling back—or so she’d thought. Lily’s murder had changed all that. She’d known that the minute Kate had called. She had to come and pay her respects to Lily. And once she was there, she knew she had to do whatever she could to help them find the killer.

Now that she’d come back, she saw that not only had she been right about Simon, but that something was very wrong between him and Kate. Blaire had always studied people; it was one of the things that contributed to her success as a writer. The little things told the story—the looks that passed between two people, the choice of a phrase, an unreturned sentiment. From where she’d sat at the funeral luncheon, she’d had a clear view of the two of them, and Blaire had noticed Kate jump like she’d been burned when Simon’s hand reached for hers, snatching it back and putting it in her lap. And then, of course, there had been the brunette in the short skirt.

She stood by the window and gazed at the Baltimore Harbor, the low December sun shimmering on the water in a dazzling geometric puzzle. When she called to make reservations at the Four Seasons, they’d told her they were fully booked, so close to the Christmas holidays. But as soon as she inquired about the presidential suite and gave them her name, the flat voice on the other end of the phone became animated, promptly apologizing and booking her reservation. She’d come a long way from that young girl who didn’t quite fit in.

Blaire was still in touch with some of her friends from her school days in Maryland. It had been tough at first—they’d all known each other since kindergarten, and Blaire arrived on the scene in eighth grade. Her father had told her that she should be happy that she’d been accepted to such a wonderful school, that it would open up a whole new world for her. Enid, his new wife, said that she was languishing at her public school, that she would have better opportunities if she went to one of the country’s top prep schools. They tried to make it sound like they were doing it for Blaire, but she knew the truth—that Enid wanted her gone, that she was tired of arguing with Blaire over every little thing. That’s how she found herself going away to Maryland, where she knew absolutely no one, ten hours from her home in New Hampshire. And to add insult to injury, Mayfield insisted she repeat the eighth grade, since she’d missed so much school the year before when she’d had mono. It was ridiculous.

But once she got to Mayfield, Blaire had to admit that the school grounds were beautiful—grass so green it didn’t look real and Georgian-style buildings dotting the campus, giving it a college feel. And the facilities were amazing. There was a tremendous swimming pool, stables, a state-of-the-art gym, and plush dorm rooms. It was a definite step up. Besides, her house wasn’t hers anymore. Enid’s touch was everywhere, her ridiculous homemade crafts all over the kitchen and living room.

Her first day at Mayfield, the headmistress had taken her around the campus. A woman of indeterminate age, she wore her hair in a tight bun, but she had a kind face and a soft voice, and Blaire had found herself suddenly wishing she would stay with her.