Chapter 56
Something was off about Darla’s house. No cars were parked in the driveway. Maybe they were in the garage. But no curtains or blinds hung in the windows of the house. It was odd, as living this close to neighbors, privacy was of utmost concern.
Cora walked up to the front door and held up her hand to knock. But as she lifted her fist to the door, she heard a disturbing sound—a low growl, or possibly a moan. Shards of fear tore through her. Calm down, she told herself, it could just be an animal of some kind. But the noise came again—and it was definitely coming from inside the house. What was going on here?
She stood at the door, and a number of thoughts raced through her mind.
Was Darla Day the person Cora thought she was—a small-minded person who was exploiting poor Jane’s bad luck?
Or was Darla herself in some sort of trouble? Did she need help?
You can’t help the world, Cora heard her therapist whisper in her memory.
She started to back away from the door. The hair on the back of her neck pricked. Something was very wrong here.
As Cora turned away, the sound grew louder and something inside of her took over. She wasn’t afraid anymore—someone needed her help. The door was unlocked, thankfully. She walked in, and her feet sank into plush carpet. She’d never imagined that Darla’s home would be carpeted. She had pictured her a hardwood-floor kind of person. But it turned out that she was wrong about Darla—all the way wrong.
If Darla had indeed lived here, she no longer did. That much was clear.
There was no furniture—and not even any indentations in the carpet where furniture may have been. In fact, the carpet looked brand new. Cora walked farther into the living room, toward a picture window. The view outside the window was of a splay of crimson leaves on a gorgeous Japanese maple tree. She stood and took it in.
It was disturbingly quiet. Where had the noise been coming from?
She turned and moved back across the living-room floor, and something caught her eye. Just a flash. What was that? She walked across the empty room and saw a piece of jewelry lying on the carpet. A gold heart. Where had she seen that before? On Darla?
No, Darla never wore any jewelry. She was clean and crisp-looking all the time.
Cora lifted the heart and held the chain in her hand, as the heart dangled. She tried to remember where she had seen it before. Wait—maybe it did belong to Darla. Hadn’t Cora seen her wearing it the first time she’d come to Kildare House?
The sound erupted from another room—what was it?
Cora’s heart leapt right into her mouth.
The noise came again, a little louder. It sounded like it was coming from the next room over—was it the kitchen? Without thinking, she opened the door. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimmer light inside—the kitchen only had one small window. But she saw glimpses of things—a foot. A leg. A person. Her eyes traveled up the leg to the person’s face, half covered in duct tape. His blue eyes were alert and his head was twitching around. He was trying to say something.
“Jude?” Cora said as she moved toward him.
Then she saw that another person was next to him. Someone smaller was crumpled in a ball, curled up next to him. Sleeping? Unconscious? Dead?
Darla Day, with her eyes closed, looked no more than eighteen years old. Cora bent over and tried to wrangle the tape off Jude’s face. But she stopped when she sensed someone standing behind her.
Cora’s whole body shook as she slowly turned around. She had to dig deep and stop shaking. She couldn’t pass out. She couldn’t throw up. A ball of fear turned into anger that moment, as she realized the person she was looking at was Ivy—or the woman she had thought was Ivy. The imposter.
“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” the imposter spat.
Cora glared at her. She could handle this woman. She must.
“Calm down, Ivy,” she said, her voice controlled and calm. “What is going on here?”
“You know I’m not Ivy,” the woman snarled.
“Okay,” Cora said as calmly as she could. There was a stirring behind her. Maybe it was Darla coming to. “Why don’t you explain to me what’s going on? Let’s start by you telling me what your real name is and why you came to the retreat.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything,” the woman said, her voice deep and shaking. She held up something. “You’ve put me in a bad position. You leave me no choice.”
What was she holding? Was that a gun?
“Please, don’t use that gun,” Cora said. “Let’s talk about this.”
The woman clicked the safety off. “I’m sorry, Miss Cora Crafts a Life,” she said and pointed it at her.
She moved like her self-defense trainer taught her—strong, fast, and yelling loudly. She kicked the gun from the imposter’s hands, and it flew through air, landing in the kitchen sink with a thud. A thud that Cora would always remember.
She then took the heel of her hand and thrust it in the woman’s rib cage, prompting her to hunch over as Cora landed the final blow, her knee to the imposter’s head. Hard. This final move knocked the woman out long enough to get the others untied.
Pain tore through Cora’s knee, but she made her way over to Jude and Darla.
Police sirens rang out. Cora ripped the tape off Jude’s and Darla’s mouths and then untied their hands. They worked at untying their legs.
When she was certain that Darla and Jude were okay, Cora found the wall and sank back against it.