“If the Manolo Blahnik fits . . .” she said tartly as the wheel of her chair caught on the corner of a mat sticking out from where it had been tucked under the parallel bars. Lucinda had always had a chip on her shoulder the size of the Rock of Gibraltar. “Jesus,” she growled, irritated, before she was able to push around the obstacle. “I don’t know what you’re doing here,” she said, rolling to the door and edging out the aide.
“I want to know where Allie is, that’s all.”
“Really? She stole your husband, didn’t she?” Lucinda reminded, and Cassie felt as if she’d been slapped. But she couldn’t deny it. Heat stormed up the back of her neck as she thought about Trent, whom she’d once considered to be the love of her life, her husband, her damned soul mate, and then his jarring betrayal. Deep inside she felt something break, the dam holding back her raw emotions. She didn’t want to but she thought suddenly of Trent’s rugged good looks, his strong jaw, deep-set eyes, and thin lips that could twist into an irreverent smile with little provocation. She’d loved him. Wholeheartedly. Stupidly, and as it had turned out, wretchedly . . .
Forcing his image from her mind, she focused on Lucinda’s avid gaze. “Trent and I were already over,” she lied.
“You know, I’m surprised the cops aren’t looking at you for Allie’s disappearance. You’re the logical choice.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with—”
Lucinda cut her off. “Yeah, right. Of course not.” She let out a short laugh.
Cassie’s fingers tightened over her keys and she tried vainly to tamp down the wave of emotion that had started deep inside and was boiling upward. Anger and rage, fury and fear, all threatening to erupt.
“You know what? I’m tired of this,” Lucinda muttered, as if she sensed the change in Cassie’s mood and didn’t want to witness the storm. “I’m not supposed to talk to anyone associated with Dead Heat. My lawyer’s advice.” To the aide, she said, “Can we go now?” then pushed past Cassie and rolled indignantly down the wide tile corridor.
“This isn’t a legal thing,” Cassie called after her.
Lucinda stopped and deftly turned her wheelchair a hundred and eighty degrees. “What planet do you live on? Hellooo. This is Earth, for God’s sake! America. Everything is a legal thing.” Then, with a quick movement, she was rolling away again, her head held high, as if she’d just won a chess match.
Check and mate.
Great, Cassie thought, her jaw sliding to one side. She considered storming after Lucinda, demanding answers, but knew it would get her no further than being tossed out of Meadow Brook Rehab on her ear. Besides, Lucinda probably had no better idea than she about what had happened to Allie.
Turning to leave, she nearly tripped over another woman in a walker. “Sorry,” she said as the woman stopped short.
“Watch where you’re going,” was the gruff response.
She couldn’t get out of the rehab center fast enough. Pushing open the front door, she drew in a long breath of damp Portland air, then made her way to the parking lot. As she did, Lucinda’s accusations followed after her. The truth was, they didn’t ring false. She and Allie had always had a love/hate relationship, one that drove their mother crazy. In her teenage years, Cassie had been rebellious and thwarted Jenna at every turn. She’d been angry and hurt over her parents’ separation and divorce, had never adjusted to life away from Southern California, and generally hated everything to do with Falls Crossing, Oregon. Aside from her boyfriend, Josh Sykes, who was three years older. Jenna, of course, hadn’t approved of the relationship, but she wasn’t exactly a shining example when it came to finding Mr. Right.
Allie, too, hadn’t liked their parents’ divorce and her mother’s subsequent move north, but she’d been more introverted, more of a baby in Cassie’s estimation, more of an “odd duck” who had hated anything to do with Harrison Elementary. It wasn’t until she’d entered high school that she’d turned on to education and spent the next few years outshining all of her peers.