Page 76 of She Didn't See It Coming
“A woman,” Derek repeats.
“And, no surprise—Detective Salter now thinksIkilled fucking Bryden. And I’m pretty sure we both know that isn’t true.”
He stares back at her, holding her eyes with his.
“We have to stop her,” Alice says.
He can hear the venom in his wife’s voice. That’s what she’s like, he thinks—a viper, ready to strike. “What do you mean, stop her? Alice, we should just stay out of this,” he urges her. “They’re not going to be able to prove anything—about Bryden, or about your mother. You have to just leave things alone.”
She looks up at him—he’s now standing over her. “I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” He pauses. His heart sinks. “Oh Christ, Alice, what have you done?”
50
Donna hasn’t slept for worry and distress. She’s lost one daughter to murder, and now she’s afraid she’s losing another—to what she doesn’t exactly know. She makes herself a piece of toast and leaves it untouched on her plate. Jim sits nearby but is too overwhelmed himself to say much.
She waits for her daughter to emerge from her bedroom. But there’s no sound from within, even though Donna creeps quietly up to the door at regular intervals and listens. She doesn’t dare try to open it again after the disaster of last night. But she wants to see her daughter, she wants to know that she’s okay.
Finally, she says to her husband, “I’m getting dressed. I’m going to go down to the police station and see if they can direct us to some kind of Victims’ Services or something. Lizzie”—she chokes on the words—“Lizzie needs help. We all do.”
Jim nods. “Good idea.”
“You stay here in case she comes out. Text me if she does, let me know how she is.”
She gets an Uber to the station. It’s not that far. She sits silently in the back seat, thinking about how she just wants to bury her daughter and go home. But she can’t do that now, because she’s afraid to leave Lizzie. She’s not right. And there’s poor Clara too.
When she gets to the police station, she’d only meant to ask at the front desk if there were any pamphlets about organizations that help those bereaved by crime, but decides to ask if Detective Salter is in. She needs to see a sympathetic face.
Detective Salter comes out to the waiting area. “Hi, Donna, what is it?”
Donna feels the tears start to roll down her cheeks, and she finds it difficult to speak.
“Come with me,” Detective Salter says, and leads her into an empty room. She sits her down and brings her a cup of water.
“Do you want to talk?” the detective asks her again, gently.
Donna answers, “It’s Lizzie. I don’t know what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m so worried about her. At first, Lizzie was coping better than the rest of us. She’s a nurse and used to handling crises. But lately—she’s been hiding away in her bedroom and won’t come out. She puts a chair up against her door so we can’t come in. She barely speaks to us. She’s not eating much, and I don’t think she’s sleeping much either.”
The detective looks back at her kindly. “I’m so sorry, Donna. Grief can hit people in different ways. She might have coped well in the beginning but perhaps now it’s hitting her hard.”
Donna bursts into tears. “I thought maybe she was taking drugs, but she denied it.” She takes a tissue from the box that the detective slides toward her across the table. “I think she’s on her computer. Whatelse could she be doing in there? I think she’s hiding from the world, that it’s become too much for her.” She doesn’t mention her great-aunt, who ended up in a mental institution, but it’s a private worry that’s eating away at her. She hasn’t even brought that up with her husband. “I was hoping I could get some help for her—”
“Of course,” the detective says. “I can connect you with someone. There are some very good programs.”
“Thank you,” Donna says gratefully. She’s afraid her daughter will refuse to speak to anyone. But she must try. She wipes her eyes with the tissue. “Has there been any progress in the investigation?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you much, other than that wearemaking progress.”
She looks across at the detective, beseeching. “Do you think Sam did it?”
“I really can’t say at this time.”
Donna nods. “Promise me you’ll solve this. We have to know the truth. Because of Clara. You understand?”
