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The Last Time I Saw You
Liv Constantine
The second book by Liv Constantine, author of The Last Mrs ParrishPerfect for fans of B. A. Paris, Shari Lapena and Liane MoriartyIn a world of wealth, privilege and luxury, a murderer is hiding…Dr Kate English has it all. Not only is she heiress to a large fortune, she has a gorgeous husband and daughter, a high-flying career and a beautiful mansion anyone would be jealous of.But all that is about to change. One night, Kate’s mother is found dead, murdered in her own home. And then Kate receives a message: You think you’re sad now, just wait. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish you had been buried today.Evidently, all is not as it seems in Baltimore high society, and as infidelity, lies and betrayals come to light, tensions rise to boiling point. The murderer could be anyone – friend, neighbour, lover, relative. And Kate is next on their list…
Copyright (#ulink_ee6ef1ac-23c2-5220-a045-673bce459f04)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
First published in the USA in 2019 by Harper, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
Copyright © Lynne Constantine and Valerie Constantine 2019
Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover photograph © Elise Ortiou Campion/Plain Picture (http://www.plainpicture.com)
Lynne Constantine and Valerie Constantine assert the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008298098
Ebook Edition © May 2019 ISBN: 9780008298111
Version: 2019-04-23
Dedication (#ulink_ee6ef1ac-23c2-5220-a045-673bce459f04)
TO THE TUESDAY LADIES:
Ginny
Ann
Angie
Babe
Fi
Mary
Santhe
Stella
Incomparable models of friendship and loyalty.You are greatly missed.
Contents
Cover (#uf727581a-b2b4-5950-bbb3-fe5d00f00882)
Title page (#uc3a97d63-32ad-584d-af2a-dc7dc3b95ef9)
Copyright (#u4eaac669-d134-5e9b-8070-b9ee73faf170)
Dedication (#ua523989d-32f5-5d0c-89dd-d7bb1a016b42)
Prologue (#ub8f425a1-7df8-553b-8f77-8c1531291aa0)
Chapter 1 (#ub73a7eef-f044-531c-b4ab-a7a588d37525)
Chapter 2 (#u2991df6a-ce68-5498-9c18-8386f0ca8ec4)
Chapter 3 (#uf93d8f9e-0c00-549e-800e-e55f7c3c4ca5)
Chapter 4 (#u02e96dc0-7c44-5515-a321-1d2cfa18d187)
Chapter 5 (#u73d575fc-52e4-591f-b653-7e86f5f91ae7)
Chapter 6 (#u0a12eaa8-c533-53a3-a23c-7a59a3b17f29)
Chapter 7 (#ue0d56d29-0512-52cc-830e-eb980080f724)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Liv Constantine (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
PROLOGUE (#ulink_91f4eed3-236e-51a7-b9af-4b0c7eeced7f)
She screamed and tried to get up, but the room was spinning. She sat again, breathing deeply in and out, trying to focus. Was there a way to escape? Think. She rose, her legs wobbly under her. The fire was spreading now, engulfing the books and photographs. She sank down onto her hands and knees as heavy smoke filled the room. When the air became too dense with it, she pulled her shirt over her mouth, coughing as she moved across the floor toward the hall.
“Help me!” she croaked, though she knew there was no one around who would. Don’t panic, she told herself. She had to try and quiet herself, preserve her oxygen.
She couldn’t die like this. The smoke was getting so thick she couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of her. The heat of the flames was reaching out to consume her. I’m not going to make it, she thought. Her throat was raw, and her nose burned.
With every last bit of strength, she inched her way to the entrance hall. She lay therre, panting from exhaustion. Her head was fuzzy, but the cold marble floor felt good against her body, and she pressed her cheek against its cool surface. Now she could go to sleep. Her eyes closed, and she felt herself fading until everything went black.
1 (#ulink_b7a7b7df-9fc0-5ec4-8761-c3c820679a51)
Only days ago, Kate had been mulling over what to get her mother for Christmas. She couldn’t have known that instead of choosing a gift, she’d be picking out her casket. She sat in numb silence as the pallbearers slowly made their way to the doors of the packed church. A sudden movement made her turn, and that’s when she saw her. Blaire. She’d come. She’d actually come! Suddenly, it was as if Kate’s mother was no longer lying in that box, the victim of a brutal murder. Instead, a different image filled her head. One of her mother laughing, her golden hair whipping in the wind as she grabbed Blaire and Kate by the hand, and the three of them ran across the hot sand, into the ocean.
“Are you all right?” Simon whispered. Kate felt her husband’s hand at her elbow.
Emotion choked her when she tried to speak, so she simply nodded, wondering if he’d seen her too.
After the service, the long procession of cars seemed to take hours to reach the cemetery, and once everyone had arrived, Kate wasn’t surprised to see that the line wrapped around it. Kate, her father, and Simon took their seats as mourners filled the space around the gravesite. Despite the bright sky, a few snow flurries fluttered in the air, precursors to the wintry days that lay ahead. Behind her dark sunglasses, Kate’s eyes searched each face, assessing, questioning if the murderer might be among them. Some were strangers—or at least strangers to her—and others old friends she hadn’t seen in years. As she scanned the crowd, her eyes came to rest on a tall man and a petite, white-haired woman standing next to him. Pain spread across her chest, an invisible hand squeezing her heart. Jake’s parents. She hadn’t seen them since his funeral, which until this week had been the worst day of her life. They were stone-faced, staring straight ahead. She clenched her fists, refusing to let herself feel that pain and guilt again. But how she wished she could talk to Jake, to cry on his shoulder as he held her.
The service at the grave was blessedly short, and as the casket was lowered into the earth, Harrison, Kate’s father, stood there unmoving, staring at it. Kate locked her hand in his, and he lingered a few moments more, his face unreadable. All at once, he looked much older than his sixty-eight years, the deep lines around his mouth even more pronounced. Kate was suddenly overwhelmed with sorrow, and she reached out to one of the folding chairs to steady herself.
Lily’s death would leave an enormous void in all of their lives. She had been the strong center around which the family revolved, and the organizer of Harrison’s life, the one who arranged and managed their packed social calendar. An elegant woman who was the product of the Evans family’s great wealth, she had been taught from childhood that her good fortune obliged her to give back to the community. Lily had served on several philanthropic boards and had headed her own charitable foundation—the Evans-Michaels Family Trust—which awarded grants to organizations dedicated to victims of domestic violence and child abuse. Kate had watched her mother over the years as she presided over her board, tirelessly raised money, and even made herself personally available to help the women who came to the shelter, and yet Lily had always been there for her. Yes, she’d had nannies, but it had been Lily who’d tucked her in every night, Lily who had never missed a school event, Lily who’d wiped her tears and celebrated her successes. In some ways, it had been daunting to be Lily’s daughter—she seemed to do it all with such grace and ease. But at her core had been a strength of purpose that drove her, and Kate had sometimes imagined her mother finally relaxing her straight posture and perfect demeanor when she closed the door of her own bedroom. Kate had promised herself that if she ever had kids, she’d be the same kind of mother one day.
Kate put her arm through her father’s, nudging him away from the canopy, where the cold air was thick with the nauseating smell of hothouse roses and lilies. With Simon on her other side, the three of them walked to the waiting limousine. She slid with relief into the cocooned darkness of the car and glanced out the window. Her breath caught when she glimpsed Blaire, standing alone, hands clasped in front of her. Kate had to stop herself from pressing the window down and calling out to her. It had been fifteen years since they’d spoken, but the sight of her made it feel like they had been together just yesterday.
Simon and Kate’s house in Worthington Valley was a short drive from the cemetery, but there’d been no question anyway of holding the funeral reception at Lily and Harrison’s home, where she had died. Her father hadn’t returned since the night he discovered his wife’s body.
When they arrived, Kate hurried to the front door ahead of the others, wanting a few moments to check on her daughter before people began to pour into the house. She quickly mounted the stairs to the second floor. Simon and Kate had agreed that it was best for their young daughter, just shy of five, to be shielded from the trauma of the funeral, but Kate wanted to check in on her now.
Lily had been so thrilled the day Kate told her she was pregnant. She’d adored Annabelle from the moment she was born, and had lavished attention on her without any of the limits she’d put on Kate, laughing as she said, “I get to spoil her. You are the one who gets to correct her.” Would Annabelle remember her grandmother as the years progressed, Kate wondered? The thought made her falter, her foot slipping from the top step, and she gripped the banister as she reached the landing and headed to her child’s room.
When she peeked in, Annabelle was playing contentedly with her dollhouse, looking mercifully sheltered from the tragic events of the last days. Hilda, her nanny, looked up as Kate entered.
“Mommy.” Annabelle rose and ran to Kate and threw her arms around her waist. “I missed you.”
Kate drew her daughter into her arms and nuzzled her neck. “I missed you too, sweetheart.” She sat in the rocker, pulling Annabelle onto her lap. “I want to have a talk with you, and then we’ll go downstairs together. You remember I told you that Grammy went to be in heaven?”
Annabelle looked at her solemnly. “Yes,” she answered, her lip trembling.
Kate ran her fingers through the child’s curls. “Well, there are lots of people downstairs. They came because they want to tell us how much they loved Grammy. Isn’t that nice of them?”
Annabelle nodded, her eyes wide and unblinking.
“They want us to know that they’ll never forget her. And we won’t either, will we?”
“I want to see Grammy. I don’t want her to be in heaven.”
