Sister Dear (38 page)

Emma, of course, would have died before taking a fecal sample, giving injections, or doing a urinalysis. So she stayed behind the counter, ordering and occasionally mixing up drug names like Acepromazine and doxycycline. If she'd make a small mistake, Emma would have tried to cover it up, but Allie was looking for significant changes and increases, especially in the months before her arrest.

Allie thumbed through the 2003, 2004, and 2005 files, taking the pages and organizing them in rows and columns. There was nothing out of the ordinary here. All of the numbers checked out. But after she added 2006, particularly the six months before her arrest, Allie rubbed her eyes to make certain she wasn't seeing things.

She thought hard about any emergencies that would have demanded that much EQ. She rubbed her temples, straining to remember. It had been ten years ago, and nothing came to mind.

Allie pressed both hands on the counter. The orders had increased substantially. There was no mistaking it. And if Gaines had known—known for certain that the coach's plan had gotten out of control, as a public figure and elected official with a reputation to maintain—it was possible the stress would push the sheriff over the edge.

Remembering the Post-it note she'd found in the cabin, Allie pulled out the crinkled piece of paper with the number written in black ink. Rubbing the edge between her fingers, she packed up the papers, slipped them in her bag, and replaced the metal box.

Locking up the building, pulse hammering in her veins, Allie drove to the closest gas station, bought a Coke, and asked the clerk as sweetly as she could if she could use the phone to call her sister.

Busy with inventory, the man shrugged and gestured for Allie to go ahead.

“Thank you
so
much,” she replied brightly, offering a too-wide
smile. When the worker turned away, Allie sucked in a breath, picked up the receiver, and dialed, praying for a recorded message to click on.

After three agonizing rings, the voice that met her ear was the one she heard in her tormented dreams.

You've reached Sheriff Lee Gaines . . .

FIFTY-THREE

ALLIE

November 2006

After Allie's acceptance to medical school, she felt Emma pulling even further away. Their relationship had always been complicated, but now there was barely a thread of connection between them.

She missed their late-night talks, her sister droning on about modeling and fashion, New York and London runways, the men she was dating. She even missed Emma's ridiculous hissy fits.

Allie had made a mess of so many things—her relationship with Ben, the letter to the editor; she'd infuriated the sheriff. At least blood was thicker than water. They would always be sisters and would always have each other. They were family. And Allie had to try to put things right before she left for med school.

It was early—barely seven o'clock—too early for her sister to be up, but she dialed Emma's number anyway. When her sister answered sleepily, there was the muffled sound of sheets rustling and shifting against the mattress. Allie pictured Emma's hair splayed out in a million different directions, dark chestnut brown against the white cotton pillowcase. She'd rub her eyes, the lids almost closed against the bright morning sun.

“Come on, Em. Caroline's having a sleepover, I'm going to pick up some wine, and I'll have pizza ready. I'll do asiago and mushrooms, if you want.” Allie made a drumroll sound. “Plus, the news you've been waiting for. Our double feature will be . . .
Pretty Woman
and
Steel Magnolias
.” She crossed her fingers. Chick flicks and homemade pizza were Emma's favorites.

“Um.” Emma sounded suspicious. “I love Julia Roberts and all, but is there something you're trying to tell me?”

Allie snorted, then made her voice sound incredulous. “What? There's no deep, dark message.” She paused. “I can't ask my sister over for drinks and a movie or two? When's the last time we've done anything together? And I don't mean sitting in the stands for a high school football game either.”

Emma didn't answer, so Allie broke the silence. She swallowed and lowered her voice. “Listen, I'm leaving for school. And I may do it earlier than when I'd planned. You know, get out of town, make a fresh start—seeing that I'm so popular. I'm thinking the end of December. Maybe January.”

Her sister didn't answer. She was listening, though.

“I haven't told Mom and Dad or Caroline. I have to work out the details first. And I want to spend some time with you before things get crazy. And—”

“Um, okay, okay, enough with the hard sell,” her sister said with a yawn. “And what?”

“Well, if you must know, I'm a little worried about you.” Allie jumped up to pace the room. “You've been—I don't know—in your own little shell.”

“I'm fine,” Emma said, sounding amused. “Worrywart.”

“Good,” Allie said, smiling into the phone. It seemed so long since they had teased each other. This was a good idea. They would have a great time. “So you'll be over at, say, seven?”

Emma began to laugh, then hiccup. “Okay, you're persistent. Do I have any choice?” She hiccupped again.

“Nope.”

“Sevenish,” Emma said, her voice trailing off. Another hiccup.

Allie hung up the phone, pulled on yoga pants, a soft T-shirt, and her old gray peacoat. After making a shopping list and catching up on the morning news, she shoved both feet in boots, snatched her hat, and called for Caroline.

“Ready, sweetie?” she called out.

Caroline stuck her head out the door of her bedroom. “Can I bring my doll?” Her brown eyes were wide and unblinking.

“One doll,” Allie warned, trying to hide a smile. If she didn't limit the toy stash, there'd be twenty-two Barbie dolls in the cart and no room for groceries.

Ten minutes later, they wheeled a cart along the store aisles. “Aunt Emma's coming over to our house?” Caroline asked, stroking her doll's hair.

“She is. We're having a big-girls' night.” Allie reached down and smoothed her daughter's hair. “And you're going to Grandma Lily's to sleep over.”

“So we're having girls' night too.” Caroline grinned and skipped along next to the cart.

“Right.” Allie leaned over and kissed the top of her daughter's head. The squeak of nearby buggy wheels made both Allie and Caroline look up.

“Hey, y'all,” Morgan squealed over the top of her cart, waving hello. For the first time since the editorial hit the paper, her friend seemed genuinely happy to see her. Morgan air-kissed Allie's cheeks and bent down to hug Caroline. “Who's having a girls' night?”

“Mommy and Aunt Emma. And Grandma Lily and me,” Caroline said. She tucked herself close to her mother, clinging to her hand.

Morgan cocked her hip and looked thoughtfully at the contents of her own buggy. She looked up at Allie. “Wish I could come.” She smiled. “Daddy's come across some tickets to the Falcons game, so we'll be back in Atlanta this weekend.”

“Next time,” Allie promised, easing her cart to the side to let other shoppers pass.

Morgan's eyes lit up. “Oh, well, you have got to try this.” She swiveled on her heels and eyed the shelves behind her. With one hand on her waist, she ran a finger along the wine labels in front of her.

“No, no, no, no.”

She plucked a bottle off the shelf, then another. “Yes.” Morgan handed them both to Allie.

“The labels are so pretty I can't resist them.” Morgan winked at Caroline, then turned to grab a third bottle. “Here's another one you need to get.”

“Wait,” Allie protested, trying to push the bottle away. “We'll never drink all of this.”

Morgan was determined. She placed the bottles in Allie's cart and fluttered her fingers. “Then you'll have extra, now won't you? One has to be prepared!” She glanced at the gold watch on her thin wrist. “Oh. Late, I'm late. Ta-ta, girls!”

Allie leaned against the cart and smiled at her daughter. “Morgan's funny, isn't she?”

Caroline nodded. “She's loud too.”

Allie smothered a chuckle. Leave it to kids to call it how they see it. And Caroline was right. Morgan was loud, but she embraced life fully. No one would ever say she was boring. And she was still Allie's friend. Despite the letter. And whatever else. Emma was wrong about that.

With a gentle push of the cart, the buggy wheels began to move along the tile floor. As they moved, Caroline fingered the edge of
her shirt, humming softly to herself. She was so adorable; Allie could watch her for hours.

Later that afternoon, elbow-deep in pizza dough, Allie felt a jolt of sadness. She looked around her tiny kitchen, the beat-up cabinets, the rickety table in the center of the room.

It hadn't really hit her, until now, that she was really
leaving
.

Allie covered the bowl with a clean cloth to let the dough rise, then wiped her hands clean, washing them twice to rid her fingers of the sticky mixture. She inhaled the scent of yeast and flour melding together. A pinch of sugar, a dash of salt.

Tonight she needed to spend time with Emma. Just reconnecting. It was way overdue.

As she cleaned up the kitchen, Allie called her sister one last time. Emma picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Mom picked up Caroline. It's just you and me.”

“Give me a half hour. I have to make a stop first,” Emma said. She sounded distracted, rustling paper and clinking keys.

“What do you need? I might have something here.”

There was a pause. “My stomach's just a little unsettled,” Emma explained. “Nothing to worry about. See you in a bit.”

With a sigh, Allie poured the cabernet, watching as the deep red liquid sloshed up the sides of the glass. Her sister's half hour was more like forty-five minutes or an hour. But that was okay. She could wait.

Her stomach growled with hunger. She nibbled at a bit of Brie on toast, put a few juicy grapes in her mouth. Allie took a sip of the wine, smiling as she remembered Morgan's animated sales pitch about the adorable labels. Allie never should have bought three bottles. But, then again, what harm would it do?

Allie stretched out her legs and took a long drink from her glass. The sweet, dark wine was lovely, she decided. Just right for
a night like this. A warm glow spread over her body, the alcohol making its way into her limbs, loosening everything a little bit.

Out of habit, Allie picked up the phone, checked the volume. Was it on silent? Were there messages? Had she missed something? When she flipped over the cell to check, the screen was blank.

She clicked on the television, aimlessly running through the channels. “Nothing, nothing, nothing,” she announced to herself after ten minutes of searching. She pushed off her chair, poured a second glass of wine, and considered her options.

Allie would wait another fifteen minutes, then call.

She wandered around the living room, pausing at photos of her and Emma. There was a particular one of the two sisters on Allie's ninth birthday, dressed in princess costumes and tiaras. They were grinning with cake-smeared smiles, clutching each other's shoulder. Beside it, in a wooden frame, was last year's anniversary dinner with Ben. He was so handsome in his navy sport coat and tie. Allie was tanned and laughing, clinging to his arm after he'd told her a joke. She loved that photograph.

Allie adjusted the picture frame and turned to lean on the counter.
Where was her sister?
As she stared out at the dark lawn, Molly, sensing her unease, trotted up close to her leg, sniffing the air.

“What do you think, girl?” Allie murmured, reaching down to rub the dog's head and neck. She stroked her fur, thinking it so odd that Emma still hadn't arrived. Her neck prickled. If something else was wrong and Emma was in trouble, she needed to know about it.

She straightened and took another sip of wine. “I'm such a worrier, aren't I?” she asked out loud.

Molly cocked her head up and raised her ears expectantly. She let out a sharp bark.

Allie grinned, then walked to the front door and opened it. “Don't rub it in, Molly.” She watched as her dog bounded outside,
then rolled in a pile of dried leaves near the curb. Allie squinted, barely able to see the dog's shape under the thin sliver of moon. Wispy clouds floated across the black sky, the shadows softening the edges of the sidewalk and mailbox.

The night was balmy and warm for November, but Allie shivered in spite of the temperature, clasping her elbows and tucking them close to her body. In the distance, a car's engine revved and whined. Allie listened.

In the far side of the yard, Molly pawed at the ground, nosing at the grass with the dedication of an experienced private eye. A squirrel chattered overhead. Molly growled, then let out a series of ear-piercing barks. A light snapped on in the window across the street.

“Come on, girl!” Allie urged and slapped at the side of her leg. Molly bounded up, eyes shining. She was breathing hard, tongue lolling to one side.

Allie checked the time again. Emma was almost forty minutes late, making Allie officially frustrated and worried. She debated about calling her parents, but they were still at dinner. And there were very few people, if any, Emma would actually confide in.

She picked up the wine glass and poured the remaining liquid into the sink. A few drops hit her black sweater and disappeared. “Great,” she murmured, not bothering to blot the stains. She needed to go. Allie grabbed her windbreaker from inside the door. “Come on, Molly. Let's go for a walk.”

It took only a few minutes. A lone truck—likely the manager's—sat near the grocery store's entrance, but otherwise, the lot was barren. As an added measure, she walked the length of the property to make sure she hadn't missed Emma's car.