The Good Daughter (The Good Daughter #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,105

asked, “Does he really think I’ll stand up and defend someone who shot two people with a gun?”

“Yes, but Rusty thinks he can talk anybody into anything.”

“Do you think I should do it?”

Charlie considered her answer before speaking. “Would the Sam I grew up with do it? Maybe, though not out of any affinity for Rusty. She would be angry the same way I get angry when something isn’t fair. And I guess it’s not fair, because there’s not another lawyer in a hundred miles who will treat Kelly Wilson like a human being rather than a burden. But what would the Sam you are now do?” She shrugged. “The truth is that I don’t know you anymore. Just like you don’t know me.”

Sam felt a sting from the words, though they were all true. “That’s fair.”

“Was it fair to ask you to come?”

Sam was unaccustomed to not having a ready answer. “Why did you really want me here?”

Charlie shook her head. She didn’t respond immediately. She picked at a loose thread on her jeans. She let out a heavy breath that whistled through her broken nose.

She said, “Last night, Melissa asked if I wanted her to take extraordinary measures. Which basically means, ‘Let him die? Don’t let him die? Tell me right now, this minute.’ I panicked, but not from fear or indecision, but because it felt like I didn’t have the right to decide on my own.” She looked up at Sam. “The heart attacks felt like something that I had to fight against. I know he did it to himself with the smoking and drinking, but it was a situation where I felt there was an internal struggle, something organic, from within, and I had to help him fight it.”

Sam recognized the feeling from Anton. “I think I understand.”

Charlie’s tight smile was disbelieving. “I guess if it comes down to the wire again, I’ll lock you in a room with him and you can take him out with your purse.”

Sam was not proud of that moment. “I used to tell myself that the one redeeming feature of my temper is that I have never struck anyone in anger.”

“It’s just Dad. I hit him all the time. He can take it.”

“I’m serious.”

“You almost hit me.” Charlie’s voice went up, a sign that she was forcing lightness into something dark. She was referring to the last time they had seen each other. Sam could remember the terror in Ben’s eyes as he had stood between her and Charlie.

Sam said, “I’m sorry about that. I was out of control. I could have hit you if you stayed. I can’t honestly say that wasn’t a possibility, and I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re sorry.” Charlie didn’t say the words in a cruel way, which somehow made them more hurtful.

“I’m not like that anymore,” Sam said. “I know it’s hard to believe, given my earlier behavior, but there’s something about being here that brings out the meanness in me.”

“Then you should go back to New York.”

Sam knew that her sister was right, but for now, just right now, in this scant moment of time with Charlie, she did not want to leave.

She took a sip of her tea. The water had gone cold. She poured it out on the grass behind the bench. “Tell me why you were at the school yesterday morning when the shooting started.”

Charlie pressed together her lips. “Are you staying or going?”

“Neither should affect what you tell me. The truth is the truth.”

“There are no sides. There’s only right and wrong.”

“That’s a very neat logic.”

“It is.”

“Are you going to tell me about the bruises on your face?”

“Am I?” Charlie posed the question as a philosophical exercise. She crossed her arms again. She looked back up at the trees. Her jaw was tight. Sam could see the muscles cording through her neck. There was something so remarkably sad about her sister in that moment that Sam wanted to move to the bench beside her and hold her until Charlie told her what was wrong.

Charlie would be more likely to push her away.

Sam repeated her earlier question. “What were you doing at the school yesterday morning?” She didn’t have children. There was no need for her to be there, especially before eight in the morning. “Charlie?”

Charlie’s shoulder went up in a half-shrug. “Most of my cases are in juvenile court. I was at the middle school asking for a letter of recommendation from a teacher.”

That sounded exactly like the kind of thing