Three stories of time-darkened cedar rose in a clearing surrounded by towering hemlocks and long-needled pines. A wide front porch skirted the lower level where the windows had been boarded, some tagged with spray paint.
Kara squinted upward to the second story and the corner bedroom she’d shared with Marlie. Her stomach dropped as she took in the sight of the once-stately, almost glorious mansion. Even in the surrounding darkness she saw that the roof of the porch sagged slightly, weighted as it was with snow, and the siding was rotting in spots, evidence of rodent habitation visible. Most of the lower windows had been boarded, some of the weathered plywood, too, showing evidence of spray paint.
“Before . . . before what happened that night,” she whispered, “I used to love this place. We spent summers up here and everyone seemed . . . happier. The boys were always out in the woods, hunting or playing war or whatever or swimming in the lake and boating and fishing or waterskiing. Marlie too.” She bit her lip, remembering. “I was too young for that, but I could ride in the boat with Daddy. And then . . . that year we came up for Christmas. We always did, but it was different,” she said, remembering the hostilities, the simmering anger, how Jonas and Donner were at each other and Sam Junior was quieter than he had been as if he’d retreated within himself. Marlie had been sulking because Chad hadn’t been included. Mom and Dad had laid down the law, ‘No one but family,’ that was the rule at Christmas and it included people who hadn’t married in, so Auntie Faiza boycotted as she couldn’t bring Roger.”
Kara cast Tate another glance. “Really pissed Faiza off. She kept saying, ‘Blood is thicker than water, Zelda,’ in the weeks before Christmas, but Mama wouldn’t budge. At least not for Roger. But that wasn’t quite right, because,” she struggled to remember. “I think Merritt was here, too. I didn’t see him—at least I don’t remember seeing him, and he definitely didn’t stay for dinner, but . . . but I think I remember catching sight of his car.” But was that right? She struggled with the memory, a headache forming as she kept walking toward the house, across the area where everyone had parked, the broad, flat space that butted up to the steps.
“Why would Margrove come up here on Christmas? He had his own family.”
“Right.” She nodded. “He was married to Helen then,” she said, remembering the woman who had helped raise her. “That was his second wife. She was . . . she was great but couldn’t put up his gambling and other women. But I don’t know why he was here. Maybe for drinks or maybe because of Jonas, he was always in trouble with the law, getting in fights.”
“Including that one with Donner?” They reached the house and Kara paused, staring at the massive double doors, trying to find the will to enter.
“That was bad,” she admitted. “So bad that Walter Robinson was threatening to sue for full custody even though they were nearly adults. It was all probably just a stupid bluff, just to get back at her and make trouble. Nonetheless, Mama was beside herself.”
“That all came out at the trial,” Tate said. “Jonas threatened Donner, said he would kill him. That was your testimony.”
“Yeah, I do remember that,” she said, her thoughts jumbled, the fights she’d heard from behind the door of her bedroom tangled in her mind. “I know. But I heard it from my room. I wasn’t actually downstairs.” She thought hard, the cold seeping into her bones. “Well, that’s not all of it. I did sneak out into the hallway,” she admitted as the blur that was the memory congealed a bit, the edges still fuzzy. “I snuck to the railing above the foyer and Marlie was already there, staring down to the floor below.”
The recollection was forming, but incomplete. “I think her father was here.” She remembered poking her nose through the balusters and peering to the foyer. The chandelier blocked some of her view, but she saw Mama’s white face as she glared up at her ex, who towered over her.
“Don’t even say it,” Mama had said, her face set. “The children stay with me. That’s the deal we made, Walter, and you can’t renege. This is all bull shit and you know it. The kids are too old for this crap! But it doesn’t matter. Go ahead. Just trust me, I’ll take you to court if you keep harassing me and I can afford the best lawyers money can buy.”
“It’s unsafe,” Walter said, standing military straight, his face flushed, his lips pulled back over his teeth. Pointing a finger at Daddy, he snarled, “Your boy tried to kill mine.”