“Here you go,” he said, handing her the entire box.
“Thanks,” she said, and raced out of the room before he asked her what she needed the bag for.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, once again, she used her shirttail to pick up the watch from the windowsill and drop it inside the plastic bag. Breathing a sigh of relief, she didn’t know if she was being foolish, overdramatic, or just careful.
Maybe a little bit of each.
Tessa went back to the box, this time being more cautious as she removed the contents. A checkbook, with a brown-leather cover. She flipped it open. It was a personal check, but only had Joel’s name, not hers. Odd, she couldn’t remember his having a personal account, either. She saw that the checks were the kind that held a carbon copy of the original. Tessa tried to make out the faint letters on the carbon copies of the used checks, but they were too faded to read. She supposed it wasn’t unusual for a man of Joel’s profession to have a private checking account, and maybe he’d mentioned it to her, but so much time had passed, she didn’t remember. It wasn’t important, but just for the hell of it, she added the checkbook to a fresh Ziploc bag.
The rest of the items in the box were an outdated bottle of Tylenol, the red label faded to a slightly orange-yellow, a box of staples, a comb, and a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. Nothing unusual. Tessa carried the box across the room and placed it by the window.
Feeling as though she was stalling, she knew she had to do what she had come upstairs to do.
She needed to see the room where Piper and Poppy had spent the last day of their young lives.
Chapter 9
She stood in the hall outside Poppy’s room, then walked a few steps and stood next to the door to Piper’s room. How could she possibly decide which room to enter first? If she chose one over the other, wouldn’t she feel a sense of betrayal? As though she favored one twin over the other?
No, this was not the way she should go about this. Tessa paced back and forth, stopped, and closed her eyes. Whatever room she was closest to she would enter first, then open the doors to the bathroom that separated the two rooms.
Her hand touched the doorknob, and she turned it, pushing the door aside.
Piper’s room.
Hot tears instantly filled her eyes. Memories assailed her.
The room was exactly as it had been the day she left.
Before she could stop herself, she screamed, “Sam, you son of a bitch, how could you?”
Tessa ran out of the room, not bothering to close the door. She was at the top of the stairs, and Sam met her halfway up.
“Tessa,” he said, and pulled her into his arms. “I wanted to warn you, but I was waiting for the right time. God, I’m sorry.”
She didn’t bother stepping out of his embrace as sobs shook her. Of all the brutal images she had tried to erase from her mind, this was the worst. It exemplified their utter innocence, which had been so savagely taken.
Pulling away from him, she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her blouse. “Why, Sam? Is there a reason?”
“Let’s go downstairs. I’ve made a salad and a couple of omelets. We can talk down there.” He turned and headed downstairs.
Trailing behind for lack of a better choice, she saw that he’d closed the automatic blinds that covered the wide expanse of windows.
“In here,” he called from the kitchen.
She reached the kitchen and stood in the doorway. The island that had been added during the remodeling was set for two, with blue place mats and matching cloth napkins.
“Go on, have a seat,” Sam said, without turning away from the stove.
Tessa watched as he slid two perfectly formed fluffy yellow omelets onto two blue plates. Looked like Fiestaware, she thought as she sat down on the barstool.
“I hope you like spinach and mushrooms. It’s kind of my specialty. Oh, and Pepper Jack cheese.”
Tessa could not remember the last time she had eaten an omelet. “It smells delicious. I like spinach and mushrooms, just so you know.”
He smiled. Her heart raced a bit, but she was not going to focus on that. She would probably smile at any man who cooked for her on her first day out of prison.
He removed two blue bowls from the refrigerator. “Another one of my specialties.” He set the fruit salad next to their plates. “I’d offer you a glass of white wine, but it’s not allowed.” He filled a glass with ice and poured the tea he’d made earlier.
She nodded. “Thanks. I was never much of a drinker anyway. This salad looks awesome, just so you know. I haven’t had good fresh fruit in . . . a while.” Of course she had had fruit, but it had been out of a can.
“Strawberries, cantaloupe, kiwi, oranges, and coconut. Won’t tell you my secret fruit-salad sauce. If I did, I might have to kill you.”
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Tessa saw by his expression that he wished he could take them back. “It’s okay. Really,” she offered. People used that expression all the time. “You don’t have to censure your words, Sam. I won’t break.”
He sat down on the barstool beside her. “Thanks. I’m sorry. That was insensitive. Let’s just eat the omelets before they get cold. You eat, then we’ll talk. That okay with you?”
She nodded and dug into her omelet. Tessa’s mouth practically watered when she took the first bite. Sam was an excellent omelet maker. She took a bite of the fruit salad. “Sam, this is divine! The secret sauce, right?” she teased, and proceeded to finish the omelet and salad. She used the blue napkin, then took her plate and bowl to the sink.
“I take it you approve?” Sam said, still seated at the bar.
She
