Beautifully Broken Control

by Catherine Cowles

  Preston’s jaw ticked. “They made a mistake. It’s probably a jealous competitor trying to cut us down at the knees. I work there every day. I’d know if something fishy were going on. And come on, Dad isn’t exactly a criminal mastermind.”

  But that’s exactly what our father was. “He stole from people, Pres. People’s lives are going to be ruined when they find out. They won’t be able to make their house payments or retire when they thought they could.”

  “Kennedy.” Preston’s voice cracked like a whip. “You can’t say stuff like that.” He leaned in closer. “To anyone. Even a whisper of something like this could tank the fund. I know you’re not interested in business, but this is my dream. I’m going to take the firm to the next level, and that won’t happen if whispers and rumors are flying around.”

  Preston stood, pulling me up and towards my door. “Come on, let’s go talk to Dad. He’ll clear this up.”

  My eyes closed as though if by doing so, I could keep out the pain. The doorbell rang. I heard our housekeeper’s quick steps against the marble floor. The sound of the huge oak door opening. “FBI, ma’am, we have a warrant to search the premises.”

  Preston released his hold on my hand as if he’d been burned, his head whipping from the FBI at the door and back to me again. “What did you do?”

  Tears crested over my bottom lids. “The only thing I could live with.”

  “You didn’t even give him a chance to explain?”

  My hands fisted in my shirt. “I did. He admitted it, Pres.”

  The sheer shock and betrayal on my brother’s face sliced at my heart. “And what about me? Did I even cross your mind?”

  My tears were flowing freely now, streaming down my face. “I did it for you.” Preston looked as if I’d slapped him. My voice hiccupped. “They-they promised you immunity if I got Dad to confess.”

  Preston shook his head, his eyes wide. He looked at me as if he didn’t know me at all. “This is all a mistake. Dad will clear it up. But it won’t matter. It’ll all be too late because of what you did.” His shoulders slumped. “I’ve only ever been there for you.” He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped, shaking his head again and heading for the stairs instead.

  It was as if he had punched through my chest and dug his fingers into my still-beating heart. “Pres, I’m so sorry.”

  He whirled on me. “You’re sorry? You just ruined your family’s lives. What’s wrong with you?”

  I raced forward, gripping his sleeve, my movements desperate as I pleaded for him to understand. “I did it to protect you! To protect all the people Dad has hurt, to stop them from losing more. It was the only way.” Preston stared at me as if I were a stranger. That fire deep in my belly burned brighter. How could he not see? How could he not care about all the innocent people our father had destroyed in his quest for more?

  Preston ripped his arm from my grasp. “Next time you think about protecting me, do me a favor and stay the fuck out of my life.” Disgust filled his eyes. “I can’t even look at you.”

  Preston stormed down the stairs, and I crumpled to the floor. “It was the right thing. I did the right thing.” I whispered the words over and over as I rocked back and forth, tears streaming down my face. I’d done the right thing, the only thing I could live with. But I wasn’t sure I could live with the hatred in my brother’s eyes either.

  My hand shook as I took the paper cup of water Agent Carnes handed me. He was all kindness and concern now. He’d gotten what he wanted, but I think he felt a little guilty for talking me into an action that had blown my family apart.

  My phone buzzed in my purse under the chair for what seemed like the millionth time. I couldn’t bring myself to pull it out. “I take it the news got out?” My phone had started ringing two hours ago and hadn’t stopped since.

  Carnes grimaced as he took a seat in the chair opposite me at his desk. “It’s not good.”

  I set the paper cup on the oak surface. “Can you get any of it back? The money he stole?” The hope in my voice felt juvenile, even to my own ears.

  “Not enough.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “How much do people know?”

  Carnes looked out of his office window at the sun starting to rise on the horizon. “There’s a leak in the department.” My heartbeat stuttered. “They know everything.”

  “Okay.” Maybe it was better this way. I knew the whole world would find out eventually. This was just ripping off the Band-Aid. All the pain in one night. I had to face it. I pulled my cell out and looked at the screen. A friend had texted me a news article. Is it true? I scanned the article, and my heart stopped, my entire body locked, only my eyes moved to dart to Carnes’ face. “Is this real?” I turned the phone around so he could see the article.

  Carnes winced, the lines in his face deepening. “Yes. One of your father’s clients committed suicide tonight.”

  A burning sensation started up in my chest. So bright and strong, it stole my breath. I tried to suck in air, but the action didn’t seem to work. All it garnered me was a gasping sound, no relief, no oxygen.

  Carnes gripped my shoulder. “Breathe, Kennedy, just breathe. Slowly now.”

  I tried, but it mostly came in short pants. “Is. This. My. Fault?” Sure, my father had built the bomb that had detonated tonight, but wasn’t I the one who had launched it?

  “No. There’s only one person who’s at fault.”

  The man who’d read me A Little Princess more times than I could count had made someone want to end their life. And all I could think about was what I could have done differently.

  Carnes squeezed my shoulder, bringing my gaze back to him. “Your father was never going to be able to dig himself out of this hole. It was only a matter of time before it all came crumbling down around him.”

  My body began to shake as the sobs came. Violent and all-encompassing. So many things flashed through my mind. So much privilege. Tuition to one of the most expensive universities, as many ballet lessons as I wanted, my favorite pointe shoes, our trips to Paris, and St. Barts. I’d loved it all. But none of it was worth a human life.

  “It’s going to be okay.” Carnes handed me the cup of water again. “Not right away. But, eventually.”

  I didn’t believe a word he said, but I did my best to get my ragged, hiccupping breath under control, to staunch the tears that seemed to have an endless pool to draw from. “What’s next?” My voice shook as I asked, but the sobs stayed quiet.

  “You might have to testify, but I honestly doubt it. There’s no hiding what he did. Your father kept his company small for a reason. His employees had access to some of the data, but only his second in command had access to all of it. Your brother’s in the clear.”

  My breath came out in one big, trembling whoosh. Preston was safe. He’d forgive me eventually. “Okay.”

  Carnes rose. “I believe you’re free to go.”

  I pressed my lips together as I stood, my legs just a little bit shaky. A combination of adrenaline and a sleepless night. “Thank you.”

  Carnes shook his head. “We should be thanking you. Not many people would have done what you did in your place.” He paused for a moment, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I’m sorry you and your family got caught in the crossfire.”

  I didn’t say a word in reply because what was there to say to that? Agents kept telling me I’d done the right thing, but it didn’t change how empty I felt inside.

  Carnes opened his office door and led me through a maze of desks towards a small waiting area. My mother rose as she saw us, her face pale, but her hair still in that perfect chignon she wore, not a strand out of place. Her movements were graceful. Like always.

  She seemed to glide towards me. Some sort of slow-motion Grace Kelly. Her hand came out of nowhere, and the crack of flesh against flesh echoed in the room. I wasn’t sure what had shocked me more, the sound or the stinging burn in my cheek.

  Carnes moved quickly then, grabbing my
mother by her arm. “Mrs. Barrington, that’s enough.”

  She tore her arm from Carnes’ grasp, but her eyes never strayed from mine. “You’re a disgrace. You get your things and get out of my house. I don’t want to see your face again.” Her jerky movements had a single lock of hair falling free of her perfect updo.

  I swallowed hard, not giving in to the urge to rub at my cheek. I’d expected hatred from her. What killed me was Preston merely looking on, hurt filling his features. The one person I could always count on in this life was no longer my ally. Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes, but I forced them down.

  I kept my head level, not allowing it to dip in shame the way I wanted, but not meeting the stunned gazes of everyone looking on either. I pulled the door open and stepped into the hall. I found a quiet corner and let my head fall against the wall. I tilted my face so my still-stinging cheek rested against the cool plaster.

  I would get through this. I had to. I pushed up, twisted so my back rested against the wall, and dug in my purse for my phone. Dozens of missed calls and texts. But they’d all stopped about thirty minutes ago. Right around the time news of the suicide had hit.

  I swallowed hard. My thumb hovered over my best friend Heather’s number. I tapped it. The phone rang and rang until her voicemail picked up. I hung up and tried again. No answer. I repeated the actions with two other friends with the same result. My phone dinged with a text.

  Heather: I can’t talk, my parents said it’s not a good idea. Hope you’re okay.

  A startled laugh escaped me, one that turned into a strangled sob. No one was going to stand by me in this. No one in my world would even give me a chance to share my side of the story. I was totally and completely alone.

  A voice cleared behind me, and I turned to see Agent Carnes. “Why don’t I give you a lift home? Do you have somewhere you can stay for a while?”

  I looked down at my phone and then back at him. “I’m thinking a hotel in another town might be the best bet for now.” I had a bit of cash in my own personal checking account. The small salary I’d been paid this summer for my internship. Birthday and Christmas money my grandmother gave me each year. I’d started the account when I was sixteen. A little something that was just mine. It would cover me for a while.

  Carnes and I were silent as we rode the elevator down to the ground floor. As we stepped out, I could see a throng of reporters out front. My chest seized.

  Carnes guided me in the opposite direction. “My SUV’s out back.” The tension in my torso released just a bit, and I nodded. “You might want to go farther than just one town over.” My phone buzzed in my hand. “Maybe change your phone number. Just make sure I have the new one.”

  I nodded again. I felt like one of those bobblehead dolls, my head seeming to move of its own accord, unable to stop. Carnes pushed open a back door. I was assaulted by jeers and camera flashes. “Shit. I might need backup.”

  The thought of waiting longer, with more time to think about what faced me, had my stomach roiling. There was no way to avoid it. I wanted out of here, and the quickest way out was through. “No. It’s fine.”

  “All right.” Carnes did his best to push people aside. “Make a path, or I’ll have agents down here arresting you.” That helped a bit, but not much.

  I ducked my head and waded through the bodies. People yelling, screaming horrible things that I would never forget. I felt something warm and liquid hit the side of my face. Spit. I wiped it off and kept moving, holding on to the back of Carnes’ sports jacket as he cut through the sea of people.

  “You.” The voice was softer than the rest, full of pain.

  I took in the woman just ahead of me, her face ravaged with grief and rage.

  “Murderer.” With the single word, she lunged.

  I thought she was going to strike me. Twice in one night. But this time, I yearned for it. The bloom of a blow across my other cheek. I wondered if the physical pain would distract from the emotional. Instead, a thick liquid hit me.

  The crowd leapt back. All but the woman and me. I wiped at my eyes, my hand coming away red. Corn syrup and food coloring. I recognized the combination from my days in high school theatre.

  “Now, the whole world can see the blood on your hands.” The woman hissed the words before disappearing into the crowd.

  I flinched as a camera flash went off, the crowd quiet enough that I could hear the click of one shutter, then another, and another.

  “Fuck! Come on. Let’s go.” Carnes ushered me towards an SUV, pulling out a blanket and placing it on the seat before I slid inside.

  Tears streaked down my face, but I couldn’t even wipe them away, my hands were covered in the sticky red substance. The burning sensation between my breasts was back. It didn’t matter that it was my father who had acted, I was still guilty. And I didn’t blame them for thinking it.

  I had to get away. Far, far away. But a little voice inside me told me that I’d never escape the guilt.

  1

  Kennedy

  TWO YEARS LATER

  The feel of the sun on my face, puppy snores, and Easy Mac. I scrawled the words on a tiny scrap of paper. My formal script had eased a bit. The stiff, tight lines easing into a loopy, irregular pattern. I folded the paper in half and placed it in the jar. Tightening the lid, I rose and put the container back on the bookshelf.

  Soon, I’d need a new jar. My eyes scanned the seven others on the shelf, each one with the word gratitude painted on the front. It was a practice I’d taken up during my darkest days. Those when I felt like there was not even a glimmer of hope to be had.

  I’d blown through most of my reserves to make my way west. I’d landed in Portland, but it had taken me less than a year to realize that I’d never make it in a big city. With the prices on apartments, food, everyday living expenses, I’d known I needed to find a smaller town.

  But I’d waited too long. My checking account down to the piddliest amount, I’d done what any person at their wits’ end would do: I left it up to chance. I pulled up a bus schedule at the library and studied how far one hundred dollars would get me.

  I had three options. I played eeny, meeny, miny, moe. And when I landed on Sutter Lake, I’d herded my dog back into his carrier and prayed that no one on the bus would notice him.

  Looking back on it now, I realized that it was insane. I could’ve ended up in a town with only a mini-mart and a gas station. Instead, I’d ended up in a place that was just what I needed. The peacefulness of the lake. The vastness of the forest surrounding the town. The quaint shops dotting the streets.

  Chuck and I had made it. And I was grateful every day that fate had landed me in Sutter Lake. I had a job and a place to stay. I was safe, warm, and mostly happy.

  Chuck let out an especially loud snore from the couch, and I laughed. I bent down and ruffled his floppy, brown ears. He opened one eye. “You gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

  He let out another snore, even though he was technically awake, a little bit of drool slipping from his mouth.

  I grinned. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

  I straightened from my crouch. Crossing to the bathroom, I paused for a moment in front of the mirror. My auburn hair was swept up in a loose bun atop my head today, and my green eyes seemed to stand out in stark contrast to my pale skin, the freckles scattered across my nose no longer hidden under perfectly applied foundation.

  I smoothed out invisible wrinkles in my shirt. The material was wearing a bit at one of the seams, but I could still get at least another month out of it. Thankfully, there was a wonderful Goodwill store down the street that had all sorts of hidden gems.

  I turned away from the mirror. I still wasn’t quite used to my new appearance. So long, pearls and designer blouses. Hello, t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers. But there was still a small part of me looking over my shoulder, waiting to hear my mother’s disdainful tone whip out about what I was wearing or my lack of makeup. It never came.

  I slipped my
phone into the back pocket of my jeans and headed for the door of my studio. “Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”

  Chuck just kept snoring away. I hadn’t figured out if he truly was going deaf or if he just had selective hearing.

  I locked the door and jogged down the stairs just as the back door of the building opened, and a dark head appeared. “Morning, J.”

  The olive-skinned beauty smiled up at me. “Morning, Kenz.”

  I loved seeing that bright smile on her face. She’d been through so much, but things had turned around for her. And that gave me hope for my own future. “How are Noah and Tuck?”

  She chuckled as she headed into the kitchen and hung her bag on a hook. “I left them practicing a fight sequence from The Karate Kid, so I’d say they’re doing fine.”

  I let out a laugh. “I’m sure Noah’s putting Tuck through his paces.”

  Jensen went to the sink and began washing her hands. “I swear that man is a ten-year-old at heart.”

  I smiled as I stuck my hands under the warm water after her. “So, what’s on the list this morning?”

  “It’s going to be a doozy today. We’ve got a couple of special orders on top of the regular fare.”

  I nodded, drying my hands on a towel and reaching for my apron. You’d think a job in a tea shop would be a pretty easy gig, but I worked myself to the bone most days. I was sure it didn’t help that I still hadn’t quite gotten used to the baking aspect of the job. “What do you need first?”

  Jensen wrapped the strings of her apron around her waist. “Why don’t you grab all the ingredients for scones.”

  “Got it.” I moved quickly through the now-familiar space, pulling things from the pantry and fridge, lining them up on one of the counters. I could prep the ingredients no problem, but something happened when I tried to put them all together. My forays into baking always ended in disaster.

  Jensen kept me on anyway, that was just the kind of woman she was. Always reaching out a hand to those in need. Doing whatever she could to help. Like giving me a place to live, pretty much for free, above the Tea Kettle. So, I’d do whatever I could to be the best employee possible, even if I lacked the necessary baking skills.