‘Lookat me!’ demanded Emma with a high-pitched squeal as she spun around the kitchen in her sparkly blue and white Cinderella gown, the one Jennifer had bought on a family trip to Disney World just a few months before. She’d kept the receipt, tucked into an envelope scribbled with the words Miscellaneous Credit Card Receipts and neatly filed away in the top drawer of her desk, where detectives had found it. Emma had worn the costume over her pajamas on the night she was murdered. The detectives theorized that she’d probably snuckit on after her mom had put her to bed. ‘Mommy! Look! Look at me!’ she continued to shout.
‘Oh my, don’t you lookpretty,’ Jennifer purred off-camera. The shot jumped across the cluttered kitchen to the pretty, slight blonde behind the island, a chocolate layer cake before her on a plate, a spatula full of frosting in hand. ‘Don’t get it dirty, Em. We still have the parade at school and Halloween to get through. Oh, please, David,’ she said with an annoyed shake of her head when she spotted the camera. ‘Point that thing at Emma.’
Obligingly, the camera jumped backacross the room.
‘I can make it spin!’ Emma shouted as she twirled about, singing some pop song Julia had heard before but couldn’t place who sang it. Maybe Hilary Duff or Christina Aguilera. The little girl’s long, light-blonde hair was done in a French braid, and it whipped about behind her. Julia could tell she was trying to get it to wrap around her neckand touch her other shoulder. She’d done the very same thing when she was a kid and her hair was down past her waist.
The baby cried a cranky newborn cry in her scoop on the counter. ‘Hush, now, Sophie. I’m getting it ready. Give Mommy a minute,’ said Jennifer, fatigue straining her voice.
A barefoot little boy suddenly streaked across the kitchen in a cherry-stained Superman T-shirt and a droopy-looking Pull-Up. ‘I’m hungggrryyyy.’
‘You just ate supper, young man. Maybe you should have some more carrots, you’re so hungry.’
Danny shookhis head violently. He stood on his tiptoes at the island, straining to see what his mom was doing. ‘Can I lick the bowl?’
‘Danny! I’m dancing! Go away,’ declared Emma with a pout, her hands on her hips.
‘I want cake,’ said Danny, rubbing his nose and pulling on his mother’s pant leg. His tousled, brown hair stuckto his sweaty forehead.
‘It’s coming, it’s coming everybody. The witching hour is here. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, is it here,’ Jennifer mumbled, mainly to herself. ‘Okay. We’re going to sing now. Dave, are you ready? David?’
The camera focused backon Jennifer, and the picture bobbed up and down as the cameraman presumably nodded. The crowd in the kitchen sang Happy Birthday, Mommy as Jennifer carried the chocolate frosted cake with the single lit candle over to the kitchen table, navigating her way through a bobbing pool of colorful balloons on the floor. She blew out the candle and everyone clapped. Danny screamed, ‘Yipee! I want some! I want a big piece!’ The baby cried again. Jennifer picked up Sophie and began to feed her a bottle as she tried to eat a slice of cake with her free hand.
Watch me,’ Emma demanded into the camera, twirling and spinning once again, ignoring the slice of cake Jennifer had cut for her. ‘Lookat me, Daddy! Lookat me! Daddy!’
The camera watched Emma dance for maybe thirty seconds more before it suddenly just cut out. Blackand white fuzz filled Julia’s television, like two armies of fighting ants.
Coral Gables PD had seized nineteen home videos from the Marquette residence. Julia had had Investigations make a copy for her of each one, and over the course of the past few days had watched them all from her living-room couch. Watched as the beautiful Marquette babies came home from the hospital, one by one, bundled safely in their proud mother’s arms. Watched as Danny and Emma learned to sit and crawl and walkand swim. Watched Emma learn to read and write and ride a bike. Watched birthday parties and Christmas morning free-for-alls under a tremendous, tinselladen, fake fir. Watched as the dead breathed and giggled and smiled once more. The tapes were her only linkto a family she’d never get to meet. A family she felt a desperate, almost compulsive need to know. A family that reminded her too much of her own …
Like Danny, her big brother, Andrew, had loved cars as a little kid, too. Especially fire trucks. He’d carried a metal Matchbox fire engine around in his pocket wherever he went. In a department store one time, he’d gotten in trouble for something. Playing with a mannequin? Running off? Hiding? Momma had sent him to stand in a corner by the fitting rooms. And there he was, forever embedded deep in her memory, all of seven or eight, red truckin hand, not a tear or so much as a defiant pout on his freckle-smattered, milky-smooth face, a mop of soft black curls spilling past his forehead over his darkeyes. When Momma had finally turned her attention backto the sales girl, he’d waved mischievously over at Julia, turned around to peekhis head into the ladies’ fitting room behind him, and with a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggle, he’d sent the truck careening underneath the row of stalls.
Julia closed her eyes tight, hoping to shut off the memories. It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to thinkof Andy. Even though he was five years older than her, when they got along, they’d been the best of friends. Her brother could make her do the goofiest things with just the flash of his lopsided grin and a double dare: walkon the train tracks; ring Mrs Crick’s doorbell on Halloween when everyone knew she was a witch and her creepy house with the caved-in roof was haunted; eat the red squishy berries off the unknown bush by the garage. It was Andy she’d go running to when a thunderstorm would wake her in the middle of the night, and he would let her come into his bed and under the covers, counting off the seconds for her between the thunder and the lightning until he could assure her the storm had moved far away. She could still smell his breath, sweet with mouthwash and the chocolate he’d snuck after he’d brushed his teeth, as he whispered words in the darkto distract her.
‘I hit a home run today at practice, Ju-Ju. Coach said I was good, but I should work harder on my pitching, ’cause that’s what I do best. Says I’m the only one on the team he’s seen that can throw a damn curve ball. No one can hit it. And no one can touch my split finger, neither. He thinks I could even play JV next year. Imagine that – me pitching JV my first year in junior high. That would be so cool …’
Planning for a future that would never be.
The rain pattered softly against her living-room windows, as it had all night, blurring the streetlights outside into twinkling streaks of soft yellow. Moose, maybe sensing things were not right, jumped up and joined her on the couch, curling himself into a little brown and white ball by her side and immediately falling into a deep sleep. She watched his warm chest rise and fall under her fingers. They’d found each other six years ago, when he was just a pup and she was a first-year law student. He was wandering around in snow that was deeper than his body one night and she was on her way to a boring torts class. He’d had a deep cut on one paw and his short fur was a bit mangy, but he had the most soulful brown eyes. Lost and completely alone in a big, intimidating city, he was a survivor, just like her. At first he was skittish, but she wouldn’t leave and he didn’t run off, and eventually, with a lot of coaxing, he’d let her pet him. When she reached to scoop him up, he’d actually kind of jumped into her arms, snuggling into her scarf. The rest was history – she’d missed her class, brought him home to a chicken dinner and a warm bath and there he’d stayed, never straying further than a stone’s throw away from her ankles ever again if he could help it. She’d given him his name from the Archie comic-bookcharacter. Moose was so completely trusting, so vulnerable, she thought, looking at him now, especially when he was sleeping. Like a child. A shudder ran through her as the tape finally clicked off and the screen went to blue.
She slid Moose gently off her lap and went over to the DVD/VCR player. She hit the eject button and the last video ever shot of the Marquette family slowly popped out. With the backof her hand, she wiped away the tears that streamed down her face, and slipped the video into the sleeve marked Mommy’s Birthday 4/10/05. Then she put it backin the cardboard evidence box, along with the others.
Jennifer and her babies had less than one weekleft to live.