I SEE YOU an unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist by PATRICIA MACDONALD (bookstand for reading txt) 📗

‘How did you get that, anyway?’ asked Lisa, squinting at the photo.

‘Taryn Bledsoe emailed it to me. To warn me.’

‘She’s always been a tight ass.’

Hannah was furious. ‘She wanted me to know that you are in danger of losing your freedom. If the court gets wind of this . . .’

‘I was with some friends. Nobody’s going to rat me out. Just chill, Mom.’

Hannah glared at her daughter. ‘Don’t you tell me to chill. We put our house on the line for you. For your bail. If your father knew that you went out drinking . . .’

‘I’m sure you’ll tell him,’ Lisa observed drily.

Hannah shook her head, incredulous. ‘Do you realize how serious this could be? For all of us?’

‘And you’ll remind me a million times. Look, I didn’t ask you to put your house on the line.’

‘Did you think we were going to let you sit in jail?’

‘You could have,’ said Lisa.

‘No, we couldn’t. Of course we couldn’t. We love you. We’d do anything for you. I don’t understand how you could be so careless!’

‘I’m still young, all right?’ said Lisa ruefully. ‘Sometimes I just need to . . . blow off some steam.’

Hannah looked at her daughter, shaking her head. ‘Believe it or not, I do understand that,’ she said. ‘But people are looking for any excuse to blame you. To look at you and say, “See! Of course she killed that guy. She’s wild, she’s out of control.”’

‘I’m not out of control.’

Hannah felt her temper rising again. ‘What do you call this?’ she asked, shaking the small screen at her daughter.

Lisa did not reply but her face was an expressionless mask, as if their conversation was turning her to stone. There was a silence in the room and, once again, Hannah was grateful that Adam would not be home until tomorrow.

‘Well?’ Hannah demanded.

‘Fun,’ said Lisa bitterly. ‘I call it fun.’

Hannah closed her eyes and balled her hands into fists.

‘Are we done?’ said Lisa.

‘Go back to bed,’ said Hannah.

‘Look, Mom, I didn’t do it to upset you. I just . . .’ Lisa shrugged. ‘Sometimes I feel like I have to . . . forget everything.’

‘Good night, Lisa,’ said Hannah.

Lisa opened her mouth to speak again, and then thought better of it. She left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Hannah went and sat in the rocker by the front window. Years ago, she had sat in that same rocker, in their first apartment, holding Lisa, her baby, rocking and daydreaming. Imagining her daughter’s life. College and marriage. Fame and children. In all her wildest dreams, she had never once imagined a murder charge with her daughter accused. Rocking that baby, it was impossible to imagine such a thing. Now, all these years later . . . Hannah sighed and gazed out at their leafy front yard, their quiet street. It was impossible still.

The next day Hannah nearly knocked over Jackie Fleischer as she arrived late to work, and barreled through the front door of social services.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Hannah said. ‘I’m so sorry. Am I too late for the meeting?’

‘You didn’t miss much,’ said the psychologist. ‘I’ll fill you in.’

Hannah sighed. ‘Thanks. I owe you.’

‘Did you have your coffee yet?’ Jackie asked.

Hannah shook her head. ‘I was up late, and I forgot to set my alarm. So I ran out of the house. I haven’t had anything.’

‘I’ve got that espresso machine in my office. Come on.’

Hannah didn’t really like espresso but she was grateful, and seriously in need of some caffeine. She followed Dr Fleischer into her office.

The walls were covered with framed photos of waterfalls and forest canopies, along with occasional close-ups of unusual birds or exotic flowers. The effect was both colorful and soothing. Dr Fleischer and her husband, empty-nesters, often went on adventurous trips to observe and photograph the wonders of nature.

Hannah took the cup that Dr Fleischer proffered, and sat down. She added a packet of sugar and took a sip. It seemed less bitter than the occasional espressos she had had in fancy restaurants. In fact, it was pretty good. She sipped it carefully.

‘I’m a wreck,’ she said.

Dr Fleischer sat down in the corner of the loveseat in her office. She cocked her head and looked at Hannah. ‘So what’s going on with you?’

Hannah sighed. ‘Well, you know my daughter is out on bail, waiting for this . . . trial to begin. She’s . . . chafing, shall we say, with the restrictions. Letting certain things slide. Acting up a little bit when she should be keeping her nose clean. She’s never been good with . . . limits.’ Hannah was aware, even as she said it, that she was soft-pedaling Lisa’s offenses, that she desperately wanted this psychologist to agree to how normal Lisa’s behavior really was.

‘How are you feeling?’ asked Dr Fleischer. ‘This is obviously taking a toll.’

‘I just want to help her get through this,’ said Hannah. ‘Once this horrible trial is over, we can get our lives back.’

‘You seem pretty confident that it will turn out well.’

Hannah shook her head. ‘Oh, don’t kid yourself. I’m sick with worry. I mean, it’s a trial. With a jury, anything can happen. We just have to rely on Lisa’s attorney to get at the truth.’

‘Which is?’

‘Well, either it was an accident, or somebody else is responsible for Troy Petty’s death. I don’t expect the attorney to produce the guilty person. That’s not her job. Although she certainly charges enough. But I do expect her to show the jury that Lisa had nothing to do with it.’

‘Do you and your husband talk to Lisa about the case? Is she able to shed any light on why she got blamed for this? Besides that thing with the paycheck, of course . . .’

Hannah blushed and shook her