“Where is it?”
“At the bank. In a safe-deposit box.”
“I suggest you get it out.”
She cringed at the thought of having to use it, even though he’d insisted on showing her how and making her practice. “Can this really be happening?”
“As much as I wish I could say no…”
He couldn’t. She understood. “I’ll get it.”
“Great. Let me know what you hear about your Realtor’s murder. And I’ll do the same if there’s anything new on Rex.”
She could tell he was about to hang up, but she wasn’t ready to let him go. “How’s Peyton?”
“Fine.”
He would’ve mentioned in his emails if anything was wrong, but it felt better hearing this assurance from his own lips. “How does she like staying home with Brady?”
“She misses corrections, but she’ll go back when the kids are in school. In the meantime, she’s enjoying a period of less stress. She’s still handling the books at the office, the advertising and some of the scheduling.”
“Are you guys ready for the new baby?”
“As ready as we can be. I just hope it doesn’t go like last time.”
Last time, Peyton had miscarried at seven months, and losing the baby had devastated her, devastated them both. Because of endometriosis, she’d had difficulty getting pregnant at all. And Vivian hadn’t been there for any of it. She could hardly believe so much had happened in the past two years. It seemed like only yesterday that she was living in Colorado, a scant five miles from the prison, hoping and praying her brother would survive until he could be exonerated. “It won’t,” she said. “This little girl will make it.”
“I keep imagining her just like Mia.” Then he asked about the kids, Pineview, her love life, and she pretended to have one. When the conversation wound down, she said, “Do you ever miss Mom?”
Their mother was a subject they usually avoided. But Vivian felt guilty for secretly keeping in touch with “the enemy.” And she couldn’t help wondering how Virgil felt about their mother these days. Was he softening at all? Should they soften? In a situation like this, was there ever a point when the past should be left in the past?
“No.” His clipped tone indicated that he didn’t want anything to do with Ellen, and she couldn’t blame him. Ellen had ruined his life when she went after her then-husband’s life-insurance policy, which she’d received. Whether or not she’d really instigated his murder had never been firmly established, but the fact that she hadn’t done more to help police uncover the true culprit, that she’d allow her son to go to prison instead, was unbelievable, unforgivable.
And yet, Vivian sometimes missed Ellen terribly. It wasn’t as if she had a father she could turn to. Cole Skinner had gone on his merry way shortly after she was born. She’d heard from him a total of three times in her entire life.
“I don’t miss her, either,” she lied. Then she told him she loved him and hung up.
“Who was that?”
Mia stood a few feet away. Vivian wanted to admit it was her brother, but that would only spark more questions. “A friend.”
A sad expression appeared on Mia’s face. “Why are you crying?”
Dashing a hand across her cheeks, Vivian struggled to contain her emotions. What was wrong with her? She was usually stronger than this. “I miss him.”
Sidling close, Mia lowered her voice. “Was it Rex?”
She remembered him. Vivian managed to smile through her tears as she hugged her daughter. The Crew had cost her the life she’d built in Colorado and Washington, D.C. She wouldn’t let it cost her what she’d created here. She’d go to the bank as soon as she dropped Mia off at ballet and get the gun Virgil had purchased for her—and then she’d defend herself and her children against anyone who threatened them. They had to stop running sometime. “That wasn’t Rex, honey, but I miss him, too,” she murmured into her daughter’s hair.
Mia cupped her face in both hands. “Maybe he’ll come for a visit.”
And maybe he couldn’t…?.
6
With its high ceilings and marble floors, Mountain Bank and Trust was cold and quiet, peaceful in the sterile vein of most banks. Vivian generally liked coming here. She knew Herb Scarborough, the manager, from sitting next to him and his wife so often at church. He waved through the glass walls of his office in the corner. Then there was Nancy Granger, one of the tellers, who’d recently joined her book group. Nancy flashed her a smile, too.
As childish as it made her feel, Vivian found the bowls of candy on the loan officers’ desks as tempting as her kids did, but today she didn’t so much as glance over to see what kind of candy those bowls contained. She was in too much of a hurry. Mia’s ballet class lasted only forty-five minutes. She wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible, then stow the gun in the trunk of her car until after the kids fell asleep this evening. No way did she want them to see it—or even the small blanket she planned to wrap it in. Why incite their curiosity?
“Hi, Vivian. Can I help you?” Naomi Jowalski, the assistant manager, stood as Vivian approached her desk. Naomi had helped her before, when she’d first come to town and brought in the tightly wrapped bundle that hid the gun.
“I’d like to get into my safe-deposit box, please.”
“No problem.” She began sorting through the large number of keys she wore on an expandable bracelet. One of those keys unlocked the door leading to the basement vault. “Can you tell me the number?”
Vivian gave it to her and showed her driver’s license—the one Virgil had purchased for her on the black market just before she’d moved here. Then she signed in and Naomi led her downstairs to the vault that held a smattering of boxes, some bigger and some smaller than her own. Considering the population of Pineview, the bank didn’t need to devote a lot of space to safe-deposit boxes and they didn’t. They’d tucked them away in a far corner of the basement and, at the moment, that basement was empty except for the two of them.
“I’ll wait right here.” Naomi stopped at the entrance to allow Vivian some privacy.
Even as she turned the key, Vivian wasn’t too happy about taking the gun into her possession. She couldn’t bear to think of what could happen if her children ever found it. But she watched her kids carefully—and just as bad was the thought of being unable to protect them if The Crew showed up. She’d been in that situation before, hadn’t she?
“Did you hear about Pat Stueben?” Naomi said.
Blocking the assistant manager’s view in case she glanced over, Vivian unwrapped the gun. She’d been in such a rush to get Mia to ballet on time she’d forgotten to bring a bag to carry it in, but she had her purse. Leaving her real birth certificate and driver’s license, along with her children’s birth certificates, in the box, she put the gun in her bag and locked up. “I did. Tragic, isn’t it?”
“Who could beat someone to death, especially someone like Pat?” Naomi asked. “For forty-eight dollars?”
Everyone was wondering the same thing. Vivian had just had a similar conversation with Pearl Stringham, Mia’s dance instructor. “No one we know. It has to be a stranger.”
“That’s what I’ve been hearing. But still—” she rubbed her arms as Vivian approached “—I get chills thinking about it.”
“Certainly makes it difficult to sleep at night.” How would Naomi react if she knew what Vivian had