Secrets to the Grave

“I didn’t know Marissa,” Anne said. “What was she like?”

“She was lovely, of course,” Milo Bordain said as she brought the food out of the picnic basket. Grapes, cheeses, crackers, bread. Haley was on a mission looking for butterflies. Anne kept one eye on her, making sure she didn’t wander too close to the water.

“She was talented,” Bordain said. “So talented, but headstrong. She could have been internationally known, but she lacked the discipline necessary. I tried to guide her, but she wouldn’t always take the best advice.”

“Do you know a lot about the art world?” Anne asked in all innocence.

“I know talent,” she said defensively. “And I know people. I’m very good at putting the right people together to make things happen. This is partly why I’m so disappointed in Cal Dixon. He could have gone places. Now, after the way he’s botched this investigation ...”

“It isn’t over yet,” Anne said, hoping to defuse Bordain’s rising level of tension. “Things could turn in another direction.”

“They had certainly better,” Milo snapped. “Everything I do for this community, and this is the thanks I get? Having my son’s name dragged through the mud?”

“Haley!” Anne called. “Come have something to eat.”

So we can get the hell out of here.

Haley climbed up on the picnic bench, looked at the spread, and announced, “I don’t like this kind of food.”

“This is a very nice lunch, young lady,” Milo said.

“Have some grapes,” Anne suggested.

“No.”

“How about a cracker?” Anne said.

“No! I wanna go play with my kitties!”

“No playing until after lunch,” Milo declared.

Haley got a mad face. “You can’t tell me. You’re not my mommy!”

The look on Milo’s face frightened Anne. “Don’t you talk back to me, young lady! You’ll grow up to be an arrogant little bitch, just like your mother!”

Haley started to cry.

Anne wanted to lash out at Bordain, but something, some instinct stopped her—self-preservation, fear? All she knew for certain was that it was past time to go. Milo Bordain’s behavior was becoming increasingly erratic.

“I’m sorry,” Anne said to their hostess, getting up from the table. She put an arm around Haley, still standing on the bench. “This is just not the day to do this. I think we should leave.”

Bordain arched a brow. “After I’ve gone to all this trouble?”

“I’m really sorry,” Anne said, “but this is a difficult time for Haley.”

“She’s just being a brat,” Bordain said. “If you would discipline her—”

“It’s not that simple,” Anne said.

“I’ve told you time and again—”

“Mommy Anne ...,” Haley whined. “Mommy Anne—”

“Stop calling her that!” Milo shouted.

Haley sobbed.

“Okay, that’s it,” Anne said. “We’re done here. We’re going home.”

“You can’t just leave,” Milo said. “After I’ve gone to all this trouble—”

“Nobody asked you to go to any trouble,” Anne said.

“Isn’t that just like you?” Bordain said. “You’ve never appreciated anything I’ve ever done for you. You’re nothing but an ungrateful little whore!”

Fear went through Anne like a bolt of lightning. Milo Bordain wasn’t speaking to her. Milo Bordain didn’t know her, had never done anything for her. She was talking to Marissa.

Automatically Anne’s eyes went to the picnic table and the knife that had been left there to slice the bread.

“You think you can just leave me?” Bordain said.

“Mrs. Bordain,” Anne said firmly. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not Marissa.”

Bordain wasn’t listening. Her mind had gone to a different place. She took a menacing step toward Haley. Anne drew her back a step on the bench.

“Stop it!” Bordain shouted. “Stop that crying!”

“Bad Daddy!” Haley shouted back. “Bad Daddy! You hurt my mommy!”

Oh my God, Anne thought. She meant it. Haley hadn’t mistaken Milo Bordain for her mother’s killer. Milo Bordain was the killer.

Bordain lunged for Haley with both hands, going for her throat. Haley screamed. Anne swept her off the bench, set her on the ground, and shouted, “Run, Haley! Run for help!”

Terrified, Haley ran a few steps and turned around, sobbing, “Mommy! Mommy, no!!”

Milo Bordain was six feet tall and outweighed Anne by a good fifty pounds. When she grabbed Anne by the hair and slapped her, Anne saw stars. Bordain pulled her arm back to hit her again. Anne dropped to her knees, pulling the bigger woman off balance and loosening her hold.

Bordain fell sideways against the table, sending food and drinks flying. Anne scrambled forward on her hands and knees, grabbed the bench, grabbed the edge of the table as she tried to get her feet under her.

They lunged for the knife at the same time.

One of them struck the end of the handle and the knife spun out of reach.

Anne dashed around the end of the table and lunged for the knife again.

Bordain threw herself halfway across the table and grabbed the knife, blade first, cutting her hand. An animal roar tore up out of her chest, not of pain but of rage.

Haley was screaming and screaming. Anne could see her in her peripheral vision, out of harm’s way. But then the little girl came running.

“No!! No!! Don’t hurt my mommy!!”

Bordain wheeled toward her, the knife clutched in her bloody hand.

On the wrong side of the table, Anne grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a loaf of French bread—and swung it like a bat, hitting Bordain in the side of the head, diverting her attention from Haley.

“Leave her alone!” Anne shouted, not knowing if Milo Bordain could even hear her. The woman’s eyes were like flat pieces of colored glass. Her face was twisted grotesquely as she came at Anne with the knife.

Anne ran around the end of the table and leaned down to scoop Haley off the ground, the only thought in her mind: Run!

Already wounded herself, she was going to pick up thirty pounds of wiggling, screaming child and try to run.

It never occurred to her that she wouldn’t be able to do it.

She never felt the knife slice her side as she grabbed up the girl and ran.

The buildings of the ranch seemed so far away. It seemed like her feet pounded the ground but gained no ground. In the distance, she could see the deputy running toward them, but not getting any nearer.

She could hear her own breathing, the air rasping in and out of her lungs. She could hear her feet thudding against the ground. And in the far, far distance she thought she could hear a siren.

She didn’t dare look back.

Then suddenly something hit her shoulder from behind and she was falling.

Trying to shield Haley, Anne twisted as she fell, hitting the ground with her shoulder. At the same time, the deputy planted himself and shouted for Bordain to drop the knife.

She didn’t.

“Drop the knife!” the deputy shouted.

Milo Bordain looked at the knife in her hand, some kind of terrible realization dawning.

“Drop the knife!”