False Mermaid

Miranda’s voice was steel: “I didn’t come here to bring her back.” She continued: “Whose idea do you think it was to drag her along in the first place? Her father was going to leave her in Saint Paul. Of course the original plan didn’t include you, but now that we’re all here, I’m thinking this might actually work out for the best. The tragedy will just be compounded. Elizabeth will have an unfortunate accident, trying to escape from her kidnapper—that’s you—and then, in a fit of remorse, you’ll throw yourself onto the rocks. Or maybe you’ll just lose your footing—I haven’t decided. Sometimes it’s better to let things develop naturally.” She continued climbing backward up the hill, pulling Elizabeth along. The ground beneath their feet grew steeper with every step.

Nora knew she had to keep Miranda talking if they were to have any chance at all. “How can you think you’ll get away with this?”

Miranda stopped and beamed with malicious satisfaction. “You mean, besides the fact that I’ve gotten away with everything so far? Including your precious sister—”

Nora watched Elizabeth’s lips move soundlessly: Mama.

“You’re telling me Peter had nothing to do with Tríona’s death?”

“When are you going to get it through your thick skull, Nora? Peter couldn’t hurt a fly—that’s always been his problem. Fortunately, it’s a fault I’m willing to overlook.”

“You put that bottle under my brake pedal.”

“Someone had to make sure you didn’t ruin everything. For Chrissake, Nora, you left the car unlocked. It was practically an invitation.”

“And Natalie Russo? What about her?”

Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? I knew there’d be trouble when somebody found poor Natalie. It was bound to happen. I just hoped I’d be far away by then. Thought she could knock me out of the trials—”

Miranda was approaching the top of the crag. She stood for a moment, slightly winded, still pinning Elizabeth’s arms behind her back.

“I don’t know how Tríona found out about Natalie, but she did. And she was going to make me pay. You have this idea that she was so perfect, but you don’t know what she was up to—the drugs, going down to the river, screwing her brains out every night. Did you know she threatened to accuse Peter of child abuse if she didn’t get what she wanted? She was planning to take him to the cleaners in the divorce. You have no idea what she was capable of.”

“You sent the note—to get her to meet you out in the woods that night.”

“What do you mean? She was the one who sent me a note about meeting at Hidden Falls.”

“What did you do with it?”

“With what?”

“The note, Miranda—what did you do with the note?”

“I stuck it in my pocket. What does it matter?”

Nora’s thoughts raced. The Galliard sweatshirt—it never belonged to Peter, it was Miranda’s. She’d dumped it after killing Tríona. But there were two notes, one in Harry Shaughnessy’s sweatshirt pocket and one Sotharith the fisherman picked up in the woods. Miranda thought Tríona had sent her the note, trying to blackmail her about Natalie—but Tríona had received an identical note, telling her to go to Hidden Falls, the place where she believed that she had killed Natalie—all at once, the horror of it began to crystallize.

Miranda was just a murder weapon, the blunt instrument Peter Hallett had wielded from a distance. The deviousness, the cunning of his plan almost took her breath away. But she had to speak. “I know how long you’ve loved him, Miranda. Since the beginning, long before he ever met Tríona. Peter knew it, too. He’s been taking advantage of you, using you this whole time. Did you never wonder why he changed? Why, after so many years of indifference, he suddenly took an interest in you? Because you were useful. You could solve a problem for him. I suppose he broke down a few times about Tríona, all the suffering she’d put him through. He depended on you—if only she were out of the way, he’d finally belong to you. But what’s going to happen when you become the problem, Miranda? Because sooner or later, you will. And you’ll disappear, just like my sister. You think he hasn’t got it all worked out? He’s way ahead of you, Miranda. He’s been ahead of us all for years.”

“Be quiet.”

“He lied about Tríona. Nothing he told you about her was true. He made up all kinds of outrageous stories to egg you on. Somehow he knew about Natalie—maybe he was out running when he saw you attack her at the river. That was when he knew he could use you. He took the clothes you dumped that morning and put Natalie’s blood all over Tríona. Convinced her that she had something to do with Natalie’s murder. He sent her a note that said, I know what you did. The same as the note he sent you. All he had to do then was to sit back and watch. Tríona went to the river that night because she was terrified that she had killed Natalie. Because he’d taken away her self-respect. He made her believe it. Peter has been watching you, and using you for years, Miranda. Can’t you see that?”