The stairs had nineteen steps. I’d counted them every morning as I made my way downstairs. Sometimes, I would skip and count by twos. I never realized how much I loved this place until now. How many happy memories I have here. I’d disappointed my father by not marrying and having children. He told me at least once a month that the pitter-patter of little feet made a house come alive. I’d teased him, saying I didn’t have to get married to give him a grandchild. He would have loved Emma.
Footsteps pounded behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder, not surprised to see Sergeant Wagner huffing as he tried to catch up with me. I waited for him. “Sergeant.”
He took a moment to catch his breath. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Dakota. You don’t have to go in there. Max has already identified the bodies.”
The sympathy in his eyes was real, and I appreciated that.
The ME came out of the bedroom. “We’re ready to move the bodies.” He glanced at me then looked away. The two of us had attended a lot of murder sites together. His reaction hurt, but I held my head up high.
“I’d like a minute alone with them.”
Though I’d expected the answer to be no, Wagner nodded. “I’ll wait out here. Let me know if you need anything.”
I entered the familiar room. Look at it as a detective. That was easier said than done. My gaze fell on the music box I’d played with as a little girl while Mrs. Dickson cleaned. I walked to the dresser and lifted the lid. The small ballerina sprang to life, pivoting and twisting to the sounds of “Waltz of the Butterfly.” Closing the lid, I focused on the walls. Bethany had spent some time in the room after killing them. She’d written Broken on every wall three times. I moved closer to study the writing. I needed to ask if the photographer had taken pictures of it.
Tears filled my eyes when I forced myself to look at the sheet-covered bodies on the four-poster bed. Blood had dripped from the mattress, forming a pool on the floor. She had to stab them more than once. I closed my eyes, looking for the strength to pull back the sheet.
“Dakota Renae Dale, don’t you dare!” Mrs. Dickson’s voice filled my head. She was the only person who ever used my middle name.
“Why?” I whispered. It was the same question I’d asked as I stared at the sheet-covered body of my kitten the day my father accidentally ran over him.
“When you love something, honey, you want to remember it the way it was. The happy times. If you don’t see the ugliness, you don’t have to remember it later.”
Mr. Dickson had helped me craft a coffin, and Snowball had been laid to rest under the oak tree he’d loved to climb. Father had wanted to get me another pet, but I’d refused. I didn’t have to remember the ugliness of death, but I’d learned early in life that it wasn’t easy to replace something you loved.
I’d questioned my sanity many times in the past year and a half. After standing for another moment, I turned to leave, more determined than ever to find the truth and end it once and for all. “I’m not insane, and I’m not broken.”
Sergeant Wagner was in conversation with Gabriel and Karen when I left the room.
“Thank you, Sergeant. If you have some time available, I’d like to stop by the station and talk with you.”
“We were just discussing that. Would one o’clock be okay?”
“Perfect. We have some things to take care of here.” I walked past them and down the stairs. “I’m going to visit my father’s grave before we leave.”
Max was waiting for me at the bottom, his eyes riveted to my face.
“I’m fine, Max. Would you like to visit Dad’s grave with me or see if you can get us all booked into a motel suite?”
“There’s that bed-and-breakfast Mrs. Sanchez runs on the edge of town. She’s usually empty this time of year and could probably use the money. Want me to try there?”
“Check with Gabriel and Karen, but it sounds perfect to me.” I continued walking toward the front, ignoring the officers coming in and out. “If she’s empty, book the entire thing. It’ll be easier to work without other people around.”
“Mind if I join you?” Karen had followed me down. “This place takes my breath away, and I’d love to see more of it.”
“Max could show you around the inside if you’d like.”
“I’m more of an outside kind of girl.” Karen matched my gait. “If you don’t want me to come, you can say so.”
I glanced at Karen’s feet. “Outside girls don’t wear stilettos. I don’t see how anyone can wear those things.”
Karen leaned close and whispered, “Without them, I feel really short.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I continued outside and turned left. “The gravesite is at the top of that hill. You still have time to change your mind.”
“I’m good.” Karen took in everything around us as we walked. “How many acres do you have?”
“Around ten plus. I think it was part of a larger estate at one time, which is why they called it a plantation.”
“Were you born here?”
“Yes.” I stopped for a moment to let Karen catch her breath. “I don’t really want to talk about myself at the moment.”
“Would you like to talk about the Dicksons? Max told me they’d been with your father for years.”
“They were good people. They didn’t deserve to die like that.” I took off walking again. “I don’t want to talk about my feelings, either.”
“Is there something you would like to talk about?”
We’d reached the top of the hill. “The apple orchard is over there.” I pointed at our left. “That’s where my father found me. The family cemetery is just ahead. I wanted to visit my father, but I also want to pick out a couple of spots for Mr. and Mrs. Dickson. They were family too.”
“You know it’s okay to cry, Dakota. You must have loved them very much.”
Opening the gate to the cemetery, I said, “I did.” I knelt beside my father’s grave and brushed off the leaves that had blown across it. “I used to come here with my father and put flowers on my grandparents’ graves. I never noticed my mother wasn’t buried here, even when dad was buried. It’s hard to believe they all lied to me all those years.”
“I’m sure they thought they were protecting you.”
I touched the gravestone then rose. “There’s enough room beside Dad for the Dicksons. I think they’d like that.” I let my gaze travel over the countryside as Karen checked out the gravestones.
“The body in the hallway hadn’t been dead long. If it was my mother, Christian must have killed her shortly after she called me.”
“Did you remember something else?” Karen came back to stand beside me.
“I remembered something Christian said when I was walking into the house. He said he hadn’t always been evil. That they made him that way. He wanted me to love him and go away with him to be a family. Then he said she would have made me that way, too, but my father saved me. He had to be talking about my mother. And he mentioned Emma.” I walked out the gate and waited for Karen to join me. “What do you think he meant when he said she would have made me that way too?”
“I hate to give the bastard an ounce of sympathy, but it sounds like he was abused as a child by a family member. Perhaps a mother or a grandmother. On the other hand, he’s criminally insane. Just because he says these things doesn’t mean it was your mother. He could have read about her somewhere and convinced himself she was his mother too.”