Beneath Her Skin, Gregg Olsen [ereader with android .txt] 📗

Nothing was open on Christmas Day. Another lie.

The mittens were, indeed, ugly.

Lies all round. That happened in shops and households all over town.

Sandra and Harper Berkley had a Christmas holiday that not a soul on earth would want. Their daughter was dead. Gone. She was in the chiller at the Kitsap County Morgue in Port Orchard, waiting for the indignity of a knife tip down her skin, a saw through her skull and the cool voice of the county’s forensic pathologist as she gently picked through the flesh and bone of what had once been a beautiful girl.

And while it was the end of Katelyn’s life, it was the start of something else.

Katelyn was Sandra’s last great hope. And a kitchen appliance in the bathtub had stolen it from her. She surveyed her situation and dealt with her disappointment and heartache the best way she could.

She threw a poison-tipped dart at Harper.

“You know, if we didn’t have that stupid restaurant, you’d have been around more.”

He shook his head. He’d expected her attack. “Everyone works, Sandy. Are you really going to blame me for Katelyn’s death?”

“Daughters need their fathers.”

Harper stared hard at his wife, weighing a rebuttal that would drive the point home without setting her off. “They also need a sober mother.”

It was the wrong response.

Sandra balled up her fist and jabbed at Harper. He stepped back, his wobbly wife no match for his still-agile reflexes. When the emotion of the moment cooled enough for her to realize what she’d done, Sandra started to cry.

Harper put his arms around her and cried too.

They’d been bonded by the joy of the birth of their daughter. She’d been the glue that held them together when their marriage was at its most fragile.

As they had lain in bed in the early morning hours after their daughter had died, Sandra cried quietly into her pillow. Her eyes were now red, a color born of agonizing grief and too much alcohol. She wondered how Harper could have found enough solace to actually sleep.

Yet, Harper had been far from asleep. He’d only been pretending, to avoid talking to Sandra. Everything out of her mouth was tinged with anger and blame. Sandra was that kind of person: bitter, jealous, and completely unsatisfied with her lot in life. Where some might have found pleasure from seeing the joy on others’ faces, Sandra merely wondered why God hadn’t given her whatever it was that they had.

A new car.

A bigger house.

Diamonds instead of CCZs.

The happiness that came with relationships.

A daughter who would lift her out of Port Gamble.

Side by side in silence, both wondered if the death of their daughter would bring them closer.

Or would it be the excuse they’d sought to end their marriage?

All over Port Gamble, the young, the old and those close and distant to Katelyn thought about her. As she lay on her bed and typed on her laptop, Taylor Ryan could see the inky water of Port Gamble Bay. She had been overcome by emotion in a way that seemed more painful than cathartic. Her eyes finally stopped raining.

She texted Beth:

I feel selfish. Seems wrong to grieve for Katelyn and be happy for my life. Accidents happen. Still sad.

On the other hand, Hayley didn’t fight her thoughts about Katelyn. She let them tumble from her, texting her ponderings to Colton about what could possibly have led to this very moment.

Katelyn was imploding over Starla. Seems so unfair. Instead of getting help, she was shoved aside like trash. People aren’t trash. No one deserves to be treated like that. Katelyn just wanted Starla to like her again. I know some people think that Katelyn had some kind of girl crush on Starla, but that’s not true. That’s just the kind of thing mean girls say to make everyone laugh.

Night owls Beth Lee and her mother, Kim, were still very much awake in house number 25 on Olympian Avenue. While they watched late evening TV together (something that Kim said provided mother-daughter bonding time), Beth got out her phone and started texting. She was a facile texter, easily keeping an eye glued to the movie and the other on the task at hand. Every once in a while, Kim would chuckle and pat her daughter on the leg, and Beth would pause her texting to make eye contact. The minute Kim looked over at the screen, Beth would start up again.

Might not act sad, but I don’t do sad all that well. Makes my eyes puff. School counselor says I mask my pain with sarcasm. Saw Katelyn’s mom crying. Just think we all let her down.

As her husband buzz-saw snored next to her, Valerie Ryan said a silent prayer. She wanted to send something out into the universe that would provide some healing. She was a believer in the power of a positive message.

Katelyn, stay close to your mom and dad. They need you and they will never stop loving you. Where we are living now is not the end of things. You aren’t dust. You aren’t alive only in a memory.

Almost two hundred miles away in Portland, Colton James felt sick to his stomach about what had transpired just a few doors down from his house in Port Gamble. He wasn’t stunned about it, like his mother and father were. Colton had seen Katelyn over the past few months as she declined from a reasonably upbeat, occasionally moody teenager to a more sullen and distracted person. He read the text message from Hayley and texted back. Usually he was a brief texter, just a few words or even a solitary letter to convey what he wanted to say. This time he wrote out his thoughts more fully. He wanted to share. He needed to make a point.

Bummed about her. She was acting strangely lately, but always nice to me and my mom. She got my mom’s Pampered Chef crap at her house. Made 4 kinds of pizza with