“Please?”Gillian reached across the table, touching Veronica’s wrist lightly.“For her.For all of us who loved her work.”
The guests from the theater had noticed their conversation, and a few were watching expectantly.
With a slow, deliberate breath, Veronica nodded.“Alright.One song.”
A ripple of excited murmurs passed through the small crowd as Veronica stood and smoothed her dress.The jazz quartet noticed her movement and seamlessly transitioned into the opening notes of “Midnight Reverie,” the haunting melody that had introduced Roberta Rimes to the world.
The short walk to the stage felt surreal.Veronica’s heels echoed against the checkered floor, each step an act of transformation—daughter becoming mother, present collapsing into past.The saxophone player nodded to her, a silent cue that they were ready.Veronica closed her eyes for a moment, summoning not just the lyrics but the spirit of her mother’s performance.When she began to sing, her voice emerged rich and melancholy, carrying the same smoky quality that had made Roberta’s version so memorable.
The room fell into reverent silence as Veronica moved through the song, her gestures and expressions unconsciously mirroring those her mother had used in the film.The lyrics spoke of lost love and midnight regrets, of shadows that couldn’t be outrun—ironic foreshadowing of her character’s fate in the film.
As she reached the final verse, Veronica opened her eyes and found herself transported.For one disorienting moment, she could almost believe she was Elaine Carr, singing her swan song before an audience unaware of her impending doom.The thought sent a chill down her spine, even as she held the final note with perfect control, letting it fade into the hush of the room.
Applause erupted, genuine and enthusiastic.Veronica bowed slightly and made her way back to the table where Gillian waited.
“That was extraordinary,” Gillian said as Veronica sat down.“You channeled her perfectly, but it was still uniquely you.”
Veronica smiled, reaching for her Manhattan.“It felt strange.Good, strange, but still...”She took a sip of her drink, noting that it had warmed slightly during her performance.The taste seemed different now—sharper, with an unfamiliar bitterness that hadn’t been there before.
“You okay?”Gillian asked, noticing Veronica’s slight frown.
“Yes, it’s just—” She put her glass down a bit clumsily.“The drink tastes off.”
A strange tingling sensation spread across her lips, followed by a disturbing numbness.Veronica’s hand moved to her throat as breathing became increasingly difficult.The room seemed to tilt sideways, the carefully recreated decor blurring at the edges of her vision.
“Gillian,” she managed, her voice strained and unfamiliar to her own ears.“Something’s wrong.”
The first spasm hit without warning—a violent contraction of her neck muscles that jerked her head backward.Veronica’s body went rigid, her spine arching as she slid from her chair onto the floor.
“Call an ambulance!”someone shouted, the voice seeming to come from very far away.
Another convulsion ripped through her, more powerful than the first.Through the fog of pain and spreading paralysis, Veronica had one last coherent thought.
Strychnine poisoning—exactly like her mother’s character in the film.
CHAPTER ONE
The pancake batter sizzled as it hit the hot surface of the griddle, releasing a comforting aroma that filled the kitchen.Riley Paige flipped the golden disk, adding it to the growing stack on a nearby plate.Saturday mornings had become special in the Paige household—a rare island of normalcy in the chaotic sea of her life as an FBI agent.
Even with April away at college and Bill off on an FBI case, Riley maintained the ritual of making a pancake breakfast.She wore a simple gray t-shirt and faded jeans—weekend clothes that allowed her to relax physically while her mind remained perpetually alert.
Behind her, Gabriela moved quietly, taking plates and silverware out to the dining room where there would be space for everyone to sit down.Riley put a cover over the platter of pancakes to keep them warm and followed behind her.
The long maple table was surrounded by six chairs, each one symbolizing a place for every family member plus an extra.However, only three of those seats would be occupied today.
Riley’s youngest daughter, Jilly, sat at one end of the table, her dark hair falling over her face as she focused on her homework.A laptop lay open in front of her, its screen casting a soft glow across her features.She kept her focus on the screen even as her big-eared little dog, Darby, and her sister’s black-and-white cat, Marbles, scampered playfully in and out of the room.
“This is so unfair,” Jilly groaned.“Who assigns this much homework on a weekend?It’s like Ms.Tennyson thinks we don’t have lives.”
Riley smiled.“I seem to remember April saying the exact same thing when she was in Ms.Tennyson’s class.”
“Yeah, well, April’s smart,” Jilly muttered.“She probably finished this stuff in like twenty minutes.”
“Your sister worked very hard for her grades,” Riley said, her tone gentle but firm.“Just like you’re working hard now.”She reached across to tuck a strand of hair behind Jilly’s ear, revealing the girl’s scowl.The gesture was a small connection with the teenager who had once been a desperate child on the streets of Phoenix.
“Almost time,” Jilly noted, abandoning her homework without hesitation.“Should we use the laptop instead of the phone?The screen’s bigger.”
Riley nodded.“Good call.”
