Grace was reeling now. Voice? What voice? Had someone pressured Penny to stab Rachel using the threat of torture? Gone and gone for good … dead … what other explanation could there be?
Then, in a quiet voice, so soft Grace had to strain to hear it, Penny began to speak.
“Alabama … Alaska … Chicago…”
“Penny?” Grace asked. “What are you talking about?”
Lost in this trance, Penny either didn’t hear, couldn’t respond, or she simply chose not to answer.
“Charlotte … Virginia … Ohio … Tennessee … Santa Fe,” she continued.
Grace looked to Mitch, utterly bemused. He offered a shrug in response, for he too was baffled.
Before any more inquires could take place, Penny’s eyes snapped open. Grace saw the transition happen—rare for sure, but it was not the first time she’d witnessed a switch. First Penny’s arms crossed, then her legs, too, and she struck a defensive posture. She was leaving—Grace could feel Penny’s presence slipping away, going, going, until the sapphires of her now-open eyes burned again with that cool heat and her daughter’s delicate mouth contorted into a devilish grin.
“Oh, hello, Mother,” said Eve coldly. “What a nice surprise to see you again.”
CHAPTER 22
BIG FRANK’S HAD A round table to accommodate larger parties, and tonight everyone Grace loved the most—well, everyone but Penny—occupied the seats around it.
It was thirty minutes past closing time, and without the persistent chatter of patrons, Grace could hear the steady churn of ocean waves thrumming against the sandy beach across the street.
At the table sat Jack, slouchy as a teen, who had come home from college at Grace’s request. He looked well, she thought; maybe a bit on the thin side. At least the mountainous calzone Annie had prepared would provide him some much-needed nourishment.
Jack had on a green and black flannel shirt, a birthday present Grace had gotten him a few years back. The shirt was a bit warm for the summer weather, but for someone who’d devoured Nirvana and Soundgarden albums in his youth, the grunge look was always in season. Jack’s long hair was not in its usual ponytail tonight, allowing his dark curls to drape across his slender shoulders, and he had grown a goatee that all but completed his Seattle look. Even with the facial hair, Grace could still see the sweet-natured boy who had wanted to play in mud puddles on the day they found Penny.
Next to Grace sat Annie, dressed sharply in a blue snap shirt with embroidered roses on the collars and denim jeans tucked into her trademark leather boots. She had on a belt buckle with Freedom written in cursive and adorned in glittery rhinestones. Thematically the buckle was the perfect accoutrement, not just a random selection, because today they’d gathered to discuss how to convince ADA Jessica Johnson to drop her case against Penny.
The ammonia had changed everything. Grace believed in her heart and soul that her daughter could be innocent, but now came the hard part: proving it.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
Grace heard Penny’s voice in her head over and over, her desperate pleas sinking into the most primal of places in her heart.
Ryan, who sat between his brother and Annie, wore a scowl that couldn’t be scrubbed off with steel wool. The contrast between Grace’s two sons was stark. Jack was working on a film about his sister’s case, while Ryan didn’t show the slightest interest.
From the kitchen, Grace could hear a clatter of pots and pans, along with the muted chatter of staff on cleanup duty—including chipper Sarah, who was mopping the floor in anticipation of the next day’s opening. At Grace’s request, nobody was using any ammonia-scented products.
“All right, Mom,” Ryan said, taking a tone. “You got us here, what now?”
It was the first time in several months Ryan and Jack had been in the same room together, and Grace could feel an icy chill between the brothers. They exchanged an occasional glance, and what few words they shared—pleasantries at best—felt completely foreign next to Grace’s memories of the ribbing, the jokes, the smiles, that special sibling code. It used to comfort Grace to know that her boys would always have each other, but now the space between them felt hollow, emptied out by the wedge that Penny had driven between them.
“Now,” said Grace, “it’s all hands on deck. Penny may be innocent, and we’ve got to figure out our next move.”
Ryan screwed up his face. “Why? Because she told you she didn’t do it?” His retort came out harshly. “Sorry to burst your bubble here, but that’s pretty much what every person in prison says.”