w a t e r s o n g

no alternative

Miranda strode into the house without even waiting for her husband to exit the car. She was fuming. Of all the times for him to check out on her, this was the absolute worst. She understood his pain, but she couldn't forgive him for not believing her motherly instincts. Regina's death was not purposeful, and she intended on proving it.

On the way into the house, she noticed that Eliza's car was missing. She must have taken Serena out for some fun, as she'd said she would. That would be better than her witnessing the fight she was about to have with her husband. If he didn't let her take the purple duffel bag to the police, she was going to call 911 and get them to come anyway. 

She burst into the living room and looked at the floor by the couch where she'd last seen it.

The carpet was bare.

Raph walked into the foyer, and Miranda spun around to confront him. "Where is it?!"

"Where is what?" he repeated, sounding exhausted. "What are you talking about?"

"Regina's bag. I know you didn't want me to share it with the police.  Where did you put it?"

Miranda was irate. If this didn't prove her husband had something to hide, she didn't know what did. As she stared at him, she felt like she was looking at a stranger, some alien that had crawled into her husband's skin and was forcing him to act so oddly. She didn't know this man. She didn't know him at all.

Behind him, Serena and Eliza appeared at the door. When they stepped inside, the tension was palpable. 

"What's going on?" Serena asked, looking from her mother to her father and back again.

Miranda didn't want Serena and Eliza to see her accusing her husband of foul play, but she couldn't deny her suspicions any longer.

"Your father got rid of Regina's bag, and I want to know why." Miranda said this without breaking eye contact with Raph. She didn't trust him any farther than she could throw him, and she wanted to make sure she didn't miss a single move.

But Serena stepped forward, between her parents.

"Dad didn't steal it," she said to her mother, a pleading look in her eyes. "I hid it in my closet."

Miranda stared at her daughter. "Why? Why would you do that?"

Nothing was making sense to her. Didn't her family want to get justice as badly as she did? First her husband was trying to conceal evidence, and now her daughter was, as well. What else was on that computer, anyway? Why would Serena care about it so much?

"I... I'd rather not talk about it right now," Serena said, her eyes flickering to Eliza. If Miranda wasn't so angry, she'd feel grateful that there were still boundaries between her best friend and her daughter, an invisible fence keeping Serena from airing all of her family's dirty laundry.

Eliza, seeming to sense that she was the reason Serena wasn't talking, headed for the stairs. "I just have to take a shower. Don't mind me." She hurried up the steps and disappeared.

"Well?" Miranda asked when Eliza was out of sight and, presumable, out of earshot.

Serena was tying her fingers into knots, looking so uncomfortable that Miranda softened, just slightly. Whatever was bothering her second--ahem, only--daughter, was clearly tearing her apart. 

Miranda sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her. "Serena. You can talk to me."

Serena shot an embarrassed look at her father. "I don't want to talk about it in front of you."