Dead of Winter (Cold Case Psychic #15) - Pandora Pine Page 0,76
goal was to eliminate the two of you and then be able to focus on other, more viable suspects. The murder of your sister hasn’t been easy on any of you, but you’ll be able to heal and move forward when the case is solved.”
“I thought you were supposed to be some world-renowned psychic,” Kate sneered. “If you’re so great, why don’t you tell me what happened the night my precious sister was killed.”
Anger boiled in the pit of Tennyson’s stomach. He wasn’t going to relish what was about to happen. Well, not much anyway. “You had a date with a boy from your trig class. Byron Halsey, I believe. He stood you up for another girl he’d been trying to get his hands on for months. You spent most of the night bitching to any friend who would listen and stealing booze from the drink cabinet in the basement.”
Kate’s eyes widened. She sat up straighter in her chair. “I didn’t kill my sister.”
“I haven’t gotten to that yet,” Ten agreed. “All you had to do was meet with us in the beginning like your parents did and this would have all been over, without Jude having to chase you down like a criminal.” He turned his attention to Butchie.
“Don’t you dare pull that psycho bullshit with me.” He took a few steps backward, knocking into his father.
“What? You don’t want your family to know you spent the night in your room whacking off to your Kelly LeBrock posters.” Ten raised an eyebrow at the fifty-year-old man. “Like they didn’t already know that’s what you were up to.” Ten paused, his gaze moving to Butch and Muriel. “But that’s what happened before your parents went to bed that night. What I want to know is what happened after?”
“After?” Muriel asked, sounding robotic.
“Your daughter left this house the night she was murdered, Muriel.” Ronan sounded sympathetic, but Ten knew full well that tender mercy was about to come to an end. “If you and your husband were in bed, there were two witnesses to her escape.” He pointed back and forth between Skye’s reluctant siblings. “So, what happened after your parents went to bed?”
“Why doesn’t he just tell you?” Kate was staring at Tennyson.
Ten grinned. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to start laughing. “Because my words won’t stand up in front of a jury of your peers.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “Jesus Christ, fine.” She waved a hand in the air. “We were watching late night television. Some show with stand-up comics. Skye snuck downstairs and tried to go out the cellar door, but I was in the kitchen making popcorn and saw her try to sneak out.”
“What?” Muriel shouted. She lunged at Kate, but Butch grabbed her in time. “What are you saying? You saw your sister leave that night? Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you stop her?” Muriel struggled against her husband, almost managing to free herself.
“We didn’t have anything to do with Skye’s death, but we knew if we told you what we knew that you’d…” Kate stopped. She got out of her chair and went to Muriel, prying Butch’s hands off. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have told you and the police that Skye left of her own free will that night. I didn’t want you to blame me for what happened, but instead, I’ve spent the last thirty plus years blaming myself. If I had tried to stop her that night, made enough noise to wake you up, maybe things would have been different. Can you ever forgive me?”
Ten was stunned by the change in Kate. She was a grown woman, who’d carried a terrible secret for most of her life. She was unmarried with no kids and moved from job to job with no real attachments to anyone. He knew Kate’s life choices could all be traced back to that awful night in 1985. He’d been angry enough to expose what Kate had been up to, but not enough to reveal to the rest of the room what her life had been like since.
Muriel hugged her daughter. Both were crying.
“What about you?” Ronan turned to Butchie, who didn’t seem impressed by what Kate had said.
“I was too drunk that night.” Butchie shrugged. “Been drunk almost every night since. If I hadn’t been so wasted, I could have stopped Skye.” He turned to Tennyson. “You tell them how shitty my life’s been since that night. Go on.”