Faiza ignored her sarcasm. “I meant today.”
“I thought it was scheduled for next week.”
“So did I . . . but that was wrong. But it got changed somehow. Who knows? Now he’s a free man, your half brother.” She said it distastefully, as if the words were bitter. “And believe it or not, he had the nerve—the nerve mind you—to call me. Your mother’s sister. That murdering son of a . . .” She stopped herself, and Kara heard her take in an audible deep breath. “He was, I mean, he is your brother.”
“Who claims he’s innocent.”
There was a snort on the other end of the line. “That’s what they all say.”
Kara kept sipping as her aunt added softly, “He wanted your number.”
“What?” Kara choked on her wine, spilling the red liquid on her pajamas and the kitchen floor. “You didn’t give it to him,” she sputtered. She wasn’t ready to face Jonas, not without a wall of thick prison glass between them.
A pause.
“Faiza?” Kara prodded.
“What was I supposed to do?” her aunt asked rhetorically. “He was going to get it anyway.”
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Who does?” But Auntie Fai, as Kara had called her while growing up, did sound a little contrite. “Okay, okay. Look, I’m sorry. Really. But you know, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him. Face what he did. He’s the reason, Kara, for everything that happened.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“You never have, but I’m serious here. Okay? Despite the fact that he’s out due to a police screwup, Jonas McIntyre is an insane killer.”
“He’s your nephew.”
“No, honey, I’m not related to him at all. My sister was married to his father for eight years, but I never liked that kid. Never. Always thought there was something wrong with him. His mother . . . well, that has nothing to do with this, I suppose. Look, I’ve got to run now, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“Wait—” Suddenly Kara wanted more information from her aunt.
“Seriously, Roger’s in the car waiting. Oh, Christ. He just honked the damned horn!” Her voice was suddenly muffled, “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on to your frickin’ horses.” Into the phone she said, “Later, hon. Gotta go.” Before Kara could object, Faiza disconnected.
Kara wiped the wine from the floor with a wet paper towel, dabbed at the stains on her pajamas, and took another drink. The bottle, now close to empty, was sitting near the newspaper she’d left on the counter.
Eying the front page, Kara cringed. The page one story above the fold was all about the grisly murders twenty years earlier. Pictures had been included, the largest being the mountain cabin as it had been the night of the tragedy, shots of cops swarming the frozen grounds. A second photograph was Jonas’s mug shot, him staring sullenly at the camera, his dark hair slicked away from his face, the grim countenance of a would-be family annihilator. The last shot brought a catch to Kara’s throat as she stared at a familiar picture of her mother and father’s wedding. The tall groom was surrounded by his preteen boys, all in tuxedos, all with slicked-back dark hair. The bride was flanked by a light haired son in a matching tuxedo, while his younger sister was in a long silver dress, her pale blond hair pinned atop her head. The bride was dressed in a flowing ivory gown that effectively hid the early months of her pregnancy. Yes, Kara thought, she had been at the wedding, too, a small baby bump that was the reason for her parents’ quick marriage after hasty divorces from their previous spouses.
She stared at the photograph, skimmed the article, then as the spots dried on her pajamas, tossed the newspaper into the trash.
She didn’t need to read about the Cold Lake Massacre.
She’d had the bad luck to live through it.
*
“Son of a bitch!” Wesley Tate threw his cell phone onto the chair across the room. He’d called the number he’d gotten for Kara McIntyre three times, each getting a toneless voice mail response asking him to leave his number. He had twice. But no more. There had to be another way to get through to her.
Get a grip, he told himself and walked to the window of the cabin to stare through the trees to the lake, iced over as it had been all those years ago.
So Kara McIntyre was avoiding him. So what?
It wasn’t exactly a news flash.
She’d been avoiding him, and practically cutting herself off from the whole damned world all of her life.