Page 76 of The Fall Back Plan
She’s right. I’d had to lie about how much I earned at my part-time jobs, giving him enough to appease him so he’d go spend it in a bar while I squirreled the rest of it away. I knew what he would do with the money, and I still gave it to him because it was the only way to make sure I kept some too, or he would have taken it all.
Maybe I can see the path Janice Sullivan’s illogic took when she kept serving him to keep an eye on him.
I don’t know what to do with all of this info, but I know it’s a bigger thing than I can hold, so I grab for something I can. “The dolls.”
She gives a pained laugh. “I have never been more embarrassed, and you’re the last person I ever thought would have ended up in the bull’s-eye of this mess.”
“I’d definitely like to know how they led us to a cemetery after dark.”
“I collect them,” she says. “I never liked to tell anyone because it sounded strange for a woman with no children. I couldn’t pretend they were anyone else’s, so I just kept my habit quiet. Tom thought it was pure foolishness even though he never said a word about it. But he was too practical to understand why I bought an expensive, elaborate doll every year, then kept them all in a locked room I never let anyone else enter.”
She shudders. “Good heavens, I sound like an insane person. It’s unintentional. I only kept them hidden because I never wanted to explain to anyone who visited why I had a room full of dolls. I’m not totally sure myself. What you must have thought when you got that unsigned note about doll terror on your truck.” She gives a choked, disbelieving laugh. “You probably thought you were coming to meet a psychopath.”
I turn my phone so she can see the screen. “I do have Lucas Cole on the other end of this call. He’s over by the Oakley vault.”
We both turn and squint in that direction, but even knowing he’s there, I can’t see him. We turn back around.
“Can’t blame you. It’s good thinking.” She leans toward the phone. “Hello, Lucas.”
“Hey, Miss Janice.” It’s not on speaker, but we can hear him clearly enough.
“I’m going to keep him on the line,” I tell her. “These dolls have been a headache for him too.”
“I had no idea what an uproar they were causing until I got back to town yesterday,” she says. “I went to church and heard people buzzing about it in the sanctuary after services. I don’t use social media much, but I asked enough questions to figure out where these ideas were coming from, then checked that gossip Instagram myself. I about died when I realized what had blown up in my absence. I mean it almost literally.” She pats my thigh. “I’m old, Jolie.”
“So . . . why?” It’s the most obvious question. “Why were you leaving dolls anonymously?”
She heaves her deepest sigh of all here. “I don’t like attention. Never have. I only told you about the scholarship so you’d know that at least we found an indirect way to make your dad pay. Those dolls, they’re collectibles. A lot of dolls people buy and try to sell aren’t, but these are the real deal. Maybe I bought one for each version of the daughters I might have had. I don’t know. But I bought the high-end ones. It’s my only vice.”
“So you didn’t want people to know it was you giving them expensive dolls. Why give them at all? Why not sell them?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t need the money. I’m not wealthy, but I moved into the senior living center after you bought the bar. I sold the house, and between the two, I have more than enough to cover what few years I have left. But when the movers boxed up the dolls and hauled them to my new place, I had to admit my foolishness in having collected them. And if I knew that was foolish, then I decided it would be better to give them to people who might enjoy them. I worked in my church’s children’s ministry until Tom died, and I lost the joy. But I’ve had a lot of little girls come through there over the years.”
I’m beginning to understand. “Which church do you go to?”
“Church of the Master.”
It’s been around forever, but it’s on the unofficial boundary where the new developments begin. “So most of the congregants who worship there are from the newer subdivisions.”
She nods. “I decided to give them away, matching each doll with a girl who shared the same coloring. I thought it would be sweet.” She finishes with a choked laugh, like she can’t believe her own naivete.
“Then with no note explaining who they were from, and you dropping them off before dawn—”
“I sleep less than I used to as I get older,” she says. “Or at least I do at night. Can’t deny I also take more naps than I used to.”
“So someone gets panicked—”
“Which is more contagious than flu,” Lucas adds from my phone, making me and Janice both jump.
We smile at each other, and mine is sincere. Not how I thought seeing Janice Sullivan face-to-face would ever go. “Someone gets panicked and suddenly we’ve got a shady stalker on the loose.”
Janice drops her face in her hands. “This is mortifying. Please don’t think less of me if I admit that I feel terrible about scaring folks, but not bad enough that I want to admit to being the one behind it.” She straightens and lowers her hands. “Still, I’m not letting you take the blame. I wanted to let you know that I have once again been adjacent to events ruining your life, but at least this one I can fix. I’ll turn myself in officially tomorrow,” she says into my phone.
“No need.” Lucas’s voice comes from behind us, and we turn to see him walking toward us. “You didn’t commit a crime.”
“But we need to clear Jolie,” Janice protests.
He draws close enough to speak without raising his voice, and I end the call and tuck my phone away.
