Page 105 of Every Step She Takes
“Your mother died of asphyxiation. She was smothered with a pillow.”
“W-what?”
Marco repeats it, but Jamison just stares, as if the words don’t compute. He goes very still, his face stark white. Seconds tick past, and we let him process it. Then he shakes his head.
“That’s a mistake,” he says, a little too lightly, and my heart cracks. It just cracks. “They’re wrong. Mom died in a fall. From hitting her head.”
His phone buzzes. He stares at it, as if not recognizing the sound. Then he grabs it and shoves it into his pocket.
“Karla’s here,” he says. “I’m going to talk to her. Fire her, for starters. Then we’ll call the police, and I’ll turn myself in.” He gets to his feet. “Just give me a few minutes with her alone. Please.”
Marco opens his mouth, but I put out a hand to stop him.
“We’ll be right here,” I say. “But if you’re more than fifteen minutes, we’ll call the police ourselves.”
He nods, as if barely hearing me. Then he heads straight to the door. Molly yips and tears after him, only to have the door clip her tiny snout, Jamison too distracted to notice her.
When Jamison is gone, Marco turns to me. “He murdered his mother, Lucy. I know you don’t want to believe that, but he isn’t going to confront Karla. He’s going to let her fix this problem – by getting him out of here.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But I don’t think so.”
“Karla didn’t just happen to arrive while we’re here, Gen. Jamie wasn’t surprised when you showed up. Justice must have warned him last night. Then Jamie called Karla, and she flew up here to spirit him away.”
I don’t answer that, and he continues, “Jamie knew he was safe. That’s why he admitted it so readily. Admitted toaccidentaldeath. According to him, he didn’t even shove his mother. She grabbed him, and he pulled away, and then? Those damned slippers. They killed her.”
“I remember them. Very slippery slippers.”
He shoots me a look for that. “Which he probably put on her feet afterward. The fall didn’t do the job, so he smothered her and phoned Karla, who knows the coroner will realize it wasn’t an accident. Karla framed you, but Jamie still thinks his story will set him free. Maybe the lightbulb finally flashed, and he realized he needs to run. Or maybe Karla’s going to need to kick his ass into that car. Either way, the family’s manager has another mess to clean up.”
I nod. “Go after him, please. Stay back and listen in. I… I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”
He squeezes my arm, too distracted to see that my gaze is lowered. A quick kiss on my cheek, and he’s gone.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The back door to Jamison’s cabin eases open, and Karla steps inside. She shuts the door behind her and then stands just inside, listening and looking. She doesn’t see me. I’m in the back closet, door opened just enough that I can see her.
In three days, I’ve come full circle, hiding in a closet, holding my breath as I watch and listen.
Karla takes a moment and then leans to see into the front room, where I’ve left my laptop playing a TV show at low volume. She nods, satisfied, and then creeps past my hiding spot. As I watch her go, my heart sinks.
I wanted to be wrong. I so badly wanted to be wrong.
I’d reflected earlier that this is the problem with Isabella’s murder: so many suspects I don’t want to be guilty. Tiana, Jamison, Justice… Even with Colt, I’d held out hope that, for Isabella’s sake, he cared enough never to do this. I kept hoping that the killer would be a stranger.Huh, she was murdered by some screenwriter I never met, who blamed her for “ruining his vision” with her script doctoring.
Yep, that’s the solution I wanted. If it had to be someone I’ve met, then maybe Bess. No offense, Bess, but I don’t know you, and that makes it easier for you to be a killer.
Karla, though…? Karla never even made it to my list of serious suspects until I heard Jamison’s story, and even then, I told myself I was wrong. She was a committed employee, who’d given her professional life to the family and sacrificed, I’m sure, most of her personal life, too. No marriage. No kids. Just the job. Always the job.
I liked you, Karla. Not in the warm way I liked Tiana and Jamison and Justice. Warm wasn’t your word, but I liked you for that, not in spite of it.
Before the scandal, I’d seen Isabella as my role model. After it, though? After it, I looked to Karla, even if I never quite realized it until now. Efficient and capable are not sexy adjectives, but they were what I needed post-scandal, and Karla embodied those traits. Her strength was not exactly warm and fuzzy, but it was kind. That’s what I remember from that night when Karla took charge. She’d been kind when I needed kindness. Not platitudes but genuine compassion.
Maybe I’m still wrong.
That’s the refrain that thuds through my head as I watch her walk toward the main room. Maybe my theory is faulty and…
And Jamison murdered his mother? Shoved her during a fight, and when she was knocked out, he saw his chance to murder her?
