The Good Daughter (The Good Daughter #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,190

cursing in the kitchen.

Fudge.

Her heel caught on a knotty hole in the first step. She held onto the sturdy railing. She blinked at the porch light, which even in the early dusk was bright white, like a flame. Sweat had dripped into her eyes. Charlie used her fingers to wipe it away. The welcome mat had a lattice design on it, rubber and coir fibers that reminded her of the grass that grew in the fields behind the farmhouse. A cursive P was in the center of the design.

Charlie raised her hand.

Her sprained wrist still felt tender.

She rapped three times on the door.

In the house, she heard a chair scrape back. Light footsteps across the floor. A woman’s voice asked, “Who is it?”

Charlie did not answer.

There were no locks that clicked, no chain that slid back. The door opened. An older woman stood in the kitchen. Hair more white than blonde, pinned in a loose ponytail. Still pretty. Her eyes went wide when she saw Charlie. Her mouth opened. Her hand fluttered to her chest, as if she had been hit by an arrow.

Charlie said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call first.”

Judith Pinkman pressed together her chapped lips. Her lined face looked windburned from crying. Her eyes were swollen. She cleared her throat. “Come in,” she told Charlie. “Come in.”

Charlie stepped into the kitchen. The room was cold, almost frigid. The strawberry theme was no more. Dark granite countertops. Stainless steel appliances. Eggshell white walls. No cheerful, dancing fruit bordering the ceiling.

“Sit down,” Judith said. “Please.”

There was a cell phone beside a glass of ice water on the table. Dark walnut, heavy matching chairs. Charlie sat on the opposite side. She put her own phone on the table, face down.

Judith asked, “Can I get you something?”

Charlie shook her head.

“I was going to have some tea.” Her eyes darted to the glass of water on the table. Still, she asked, “Would you like some?”

Charlie nodded.

Judith took the kettle off the stove. Stainless steel, like everything else. She filled it at the kitchen sink, saying, “I’m very sorry about your father.”

“I’m sorry about Mr. Pinkman.”

Judith glanced over her shoulder. She held Charlie’s gaze. The woman’s lips were trembling. Her eyes glistened, as if her tears were as constant as her sorrow. She turned off the faucet.

Charlie watched her return the kettle to the stove, turn the knob on the Wolf range. There were several clicks, then a whoosh as the gas ignited.

“So.” Judith hesitated, then sat down. “What brings you here today?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Charlie said. “I haven’t seen you since the whole thing with Kelly.”

Judith smoothed together her lips again. She clasped her hands on the table. “That must have been hard for you. I know it brought back some memories for me.”

Charlie said, “I want you to know how much I appreciate what you did for me that night. That you took care of me. Made me feel safe. That you lied for me.”

Judith’s lips were trembling when she smiled.

“That’s why I’m here,” Charlie told the woman. “I never talked about it when Daddy was alive.”

Her mouth opened. The tension drained from her eyes. She smiled kindly at Charlie. This was the caring, generous woman that Charlie remembered. “Of course, Charlotte. Of course. You can talk to me about anything.”

Charlie said, “Back then, Dad had this case, this rapist he represented, and the man got off, but the girl hanged herself in her family’s barn.”

“I remember that.”

“I’ve been wondering, do you think that’s why Dad wanted to keep it secret? Was he worried that I would do something like that?”

“I—” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry I can’t answer you. I think that he had just lost his wife, and he thought his oldest daughter was dead, and he saw what happened to you and …” Her voice trailed off. “People say that God won’t give you more than you can handle, but sometimes, I don’t think that’s true. Do you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“The verse is in Corinthians. ‘God is faithful, and He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with temptation, He will provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.’” She said, “It’s the second part that makes me wonder. How do you know the way of escape? It might be there, but what if you don’t recognize it?”

Charlie shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” Judith apologized. “I know your mother didn’t believe in God. She was too