After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 23

In so many ways.

In her mind’s eye she saw them, the two women running. Her skin dimpled with the thrill and the first drops of rain falling from the leaden skies. She imagined the sounds of feet slapping against pavement, the darkened set, the hushed tones, the intensity of the scene and the actress, her heart racing, glancing over her shoulder, making certain . . .

“Sssh.” She sucked in her breath and gripped the railing as she re-created the scene in her mind. A buzz sizzled through her blood again and she fought the urge that seemed to be her ever-present companion.

“Not today.” With an effort she released the rail and stepped backward, across the wet flagstones into her bedroom. Surprised at how wet she was, that her hair was curling around her face, her shoulders drenched, she pulled the French door shut. How long had she been out there? Had anyone seen her? Dear God, she was getting reckless.

Be careful, she silently warned herself as she stepped into the bathroom where she found a towel and dried her hair and skin, only catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror now and then. She smiled at the brief images. She knew she was drop-dead gorgeous. How many times had she been told as much?

Still toweling her hair, she returned to the bedroom, dropped onto the thick duvet covering the bed, and saw the picture, one she’d placed so carefully near her pillows. The three of them were walking. A much younger Jenna Hughes was crossing an LA street with her daughters, holding each of their hands.

Her heart hardened as she noticed again that while Jenna was dragging the older one, who had turned to look at a puppy on a leash, she was half bent down to listen to what the younger girl was saying.

This snapshot taken by a member of the paparazzi said it all.

Sisters. As if they cared for each other. As if they had some special bond. Ridiculous. She knew all about sisters.

A slow-growing rage overtook her and she felt hot inside. Her lips tightened, her jaw ached. Her head pounded and her thoughts turned dark. Again. No matter how hard she wanted to kill it, the fury within was a dark seed that had sprouted, grown, and twisted itself over her heart for so many years now.

Beginning to shake, she spied a tube of lipstick on the table. Blood red. Though she knew it was a little crazy, she succumbed to her anger, flipped off the top of the tube, and smeared it across the glass, marring Jenna’s well-known features. In her haste the picture dropped.

Glass shattered.

A spiderweb of cracks formed over the threesome.

Allie’s face was obliterated by the broken glass.

Something within her broke.

Still trembling, she carefully used the lipstick to moisten her lips, then picked up a shard of glass from the table and ever so slowly sliced across her wrist. As a drop of blood appeared she squeezed her hand into a fist and it fell. First one. Then another. And another. Dripping over the photograph until the people in the shot were covered in her blood and unrecognizable.

She felt a lump in her throat as she whispered, “It’s all an act.”

It was well after dark when Cassie drove to the motel. Once in her room, she bought a ticket to LA on the Internet. Then the next morning, she headed to the airport where she said good-bye to the Nissan at the rental car return.

Once she was through security, she found a relatively quiet spot in Concourse B and stopped to dial her mother.

“Hello?” Jenna answered anxiously before the phone could ring a second time. Cassie’s gut twisted as she realized her mother was sitting by the phone, half freaking out while waiting for news of her girls.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Cassie!” Jenna’s voice actually cracked. “For the love of God, I’ve been so worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Mom.” A lie. She felt like a heel for not returning her mother’s calls earlier.

“Doctor Sherling said you left the hospital.”

“True.” Here we go.

“She couldn’t talk to me too much about it because of all the legalities involved, but it sounded as if she wasn’t sure you should be released.”

“I know. But I’m fine.” The image of the nurse in the white uniform floated through her mind. Real? Or imagined? Real, damn it. Rinko gave you the earring!