Family Secrets (Brannon House Book 2)

by Stacy Claflin

  I also can’t find Sasha Beckett, the friend who brought Mom to the party where she met my dad. Sasha probably got married and has a new last name, which makes her just as hard to find as my biological father. All I have is first names. It would help if Mom was connected to a Sasha or a Graham on social media, but nope. Neither one. Not connected to a Sasha or a Graham on any of her accounts.

  I should be grateful to at least have found the note she left me. If I hadn’t been in Mom’s childhood room and accidentally knocked those papers over, I wouldn’t even have this much.

  I’m tempted to try one of those DNA tests where you spit into a tube and find out about your ancestry. But what if my dad hasn’t done one of those? Then I’d end up with nothing. Or what if he has?

  My heart races at the thought. I don’t know what scares me more—the thought of finding him or the thought of not finding him. The prospect that he would want to know me or that he wouldn’t.

  It’s the unknown I hate.

  Crash!

  I jump. Nearly knock my computer off the bed. Manage to catch it before it drops.

  My pulse drums in my ears. I shouldn’t be surprised by the sound. Now Grandma can make all the noise she wants. No more sneaking around required.

  I should probably check to see if she’s okay. What if she fell? I shudder, picturing her taking a tumble down the stairs. But that didn’t happen. It was just one crash, not a series of them. I wait, not hearing anything else.

  She probably just knocked something over. She’s been busy rearranging her new bedroom.

  But I can’t let go of the thought that she might’ve hurt herself. She is used to other people taking care of her, even if she’s been capable the whole time. Now she’s out of her element. Or is she right back in it? It’s so hard to say. This whole thing is just weird—my grandma has been faking her memory loss all this time, and now she’s acting like everything is totally normal.

  I don’t even know her, if I’m being totally honest. It’s been five years since she was normal—or at least since we all thought she was. I was ten. That was so long ago. Almost feels like a lifetime. Actually, more. My life has been split into two parts, when Mom was alive and since her death. My chest squeezes at the thought. It’s painful to think about, and sometimes it really hits me hard when I least expect it. I like to keep myself busy and distracted so I don’t have to deal with how hard it is.

  And checking on Grandma is exactly what I need right now. Mom would want me to watch out for her. That’s what I’m going to do.

  What if the crash was her hurting herself?

  I set my laptop on the desk, tiptoe to the door, slowly open it, and go out into the hall. Everything is quiet, dim. Something creaks in the distance. I don’t know where, it’s barely noticeable.

  I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and creep toward the room Grandma is now staying in. My skin crawls. I slow my pace, listening. Nothing sounds other than my soft footsteps. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was in a normal house. But I’m not, and I’m not letting my guard down.

  Once I turn down the hall toward Grandma’s room, darkness envelops me. There are no nightlights because Kenzi and I don’t go this way at night.

  I make a mental note to add nightlights to the shopping list.

  Holding my breath, I trail my fingertips along the wall and follow the hall by memory and feel. I wish I’d brought my phone for light, but I hadn’t been thinking like that. Next time.

  No. Next time, there will be nightlights. Maybe enough to make every path in the entire house lit at night. Or at least on the two main levels. I can’t imagine us having any reason to go anywhere else at night. I definitely don’t have any desire.

  My pulse keeps racing faster with each step I take. I’m getting nearer to Grandma’s room, but I have no idea how close I am. It’s so dark. No windows to let in any light.

  A scuffling noise sounds in front of me. Like feet running, lightly.

  I freeze in place and listen, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I am. Can’t see anything around me. Darkness surrounds me, hiding me from the world. I try to say something, but my voice won’t cooperate.

  This was dumb. I never should have come down this hallway. Not without a light, but I hadn’t thought about that. I take a deep breath and keep going.

  I’m also almost to Grandma’s room. I have to be. Just a little farther, then I’ll check on her and race back to my room. To light, to safety. Not that I’m unsafe here. The entire house is protected with the alarm system. Well, except the mirror-door. We’re still waiting on the locksmith for that. But who else knows about that? And now we know where Grandma is, and that she won’t be sneaking through the door.

  I turn again, and this time a little light comes into view. It’s coming from underneath her door. It isn’t much, but it’s something. I can see, and now I have something to aim for. Once I see she’s okay and prove I’ve gotten myself worked up over nothing, I can get back to my bed and go to sleep. Perfect plan.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I near the door. I ignore them and the gooseflesh forming on my arms. There isn’t anything unusual here. I’m just walking in the hallway of my house to check on my grandma. That’s all.

  Music sounds from the other side of the doorway. I try to place it. It’s upbeat but different from anything I listen to. Probably something from one of those old programs she likes to watch.

  Though I can’t help but wonder if that wasn’t all just for show.

  I hesitate before knocking, try to place the music because it’s a good distraction. Then I ball my fist to knock but wait. Maybe I should go in rather than knocking. I’m curious what she does when nobody’s looking.

  It’s hard to imagine someone who could pull off such a façade for so long, yet my own flesh and blood had managed it for five long years. What else was she capable of?

  I reach for the knob, but then guilt pricks. Despite what she’s done, she deserves privacy, respect. I’d want that much. Not that I’d ever pull a stunt like she did, tricking my kids and grandkids.

  Knock, knock.

  The music stops, and shuffling noises sound from inside the room. The light under the door shifts as she makes her way toward me.

  My breath hitches. I don’t know what I expect to see.

  The door opens, the light nearly blinding me, and she appears wearing a fuzzy pink bathrobe and curlers in her hair. “Ember. Is everything okay, dear?”

  “I just came to check on you.”

  “Don’t trust me?”

  “That’s not it.” I answer too quickly. “I heard something crash, and I was worried you’d hurt yourself.”

  She scratches her head. “A crash?”

  I nod.

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Your music was pretty loud.”

  She glances around. “Was it disturbing you?”

  “No. I can’t hear it from my room. But I did hear a noise. You sure you didn’t drop anything? It would’ve been a few minutes ago.”

  “Can’t say that anything fell in here. Must’ve been Macken—Kenzi. Her room is much closer to yours than mine.”

  “You could always stay in one closer to us. Then we could all watch out for each other.”

  “Oh, this one is fine. I’ve always wanted to have this room, but your grandfather insisted on the other one. Why, I don’t know. This one is equally as big. The only difference is that the heads of the house have always used that other room.” She shrugs. “Brannon men and their insistence on following family traditions. I’ll never understand it, but I suppose it doesn’t matter any longer, now does it?”

  “I guess not.” I try to look around her to see what she’s done to the room.

  Grandma steps aside. “Do you want to have a look around? Can’t say there’s much to see yet. It’ll take a lot more time than one evening.”

  “Um, sure.”

  I step inside, trying to remember what it look
ed like before. There are so many rooms, it’s hard to keep them all straight. I’m pretty sure this was one that was still covered in sheets and plastic. Now all that has been removed to reveal what looks like a hotel suite, but with antique furniture, like so much else in this house. If I remember correctly, it had been a guest room for visiting families, though everyone would’ve had to share the enormous bed. It looks big enough to fit a big group of people.

  Grandma moves in front of an armoire and closes it, standing in front of it. “I don’t have a lot to work with. Just the one suitcase I was allowed at the home and what’s left of my things that your aunt didn’t get rid of. She was pretty eager to erase me from that room.”

  “That wasn’t what Kenzi was doing. What’s in there?”

  Grandma’s expression tenses, and I notice that she’s applied makeup and shaped her brows. “No?” she asks. “What do you call it, then, when my daughter got rid of my things?”

  “Making the room into hers. Just like I’ve been doing with her old room.”

  Grandma sighs. “She got rid of a lot of things.”

  “We both did,” I say in Kenzi’s defense. “This place was a huge mess, and there’s so much to go through. Most stuff has stayed, but we did have to throw some things out.”

  “More than some. Not that it matters. We’re all here together now. That’s what matters.”

  My back stiffens. “We’re not all here.”

  She shakes her head. “Poor Claire. I never saw that coming. I’d have stopped her murder if I could have.”

  “How come you were concerned only about yourself?”

  “Pardon me?” Grandma stands taller.

  “Why was your concern only for you? You knew he was dangerous, yet you did nothing to protect either me or my mom. Instead of saying anything to us, or even letting us know what your real plan was, you faked dementia and allowed us to think you forgot us.”

  “It had to be done—and like I said, I didn’t think he’d do anything to you two.”

  “You didn’t say that.”

  She rubs her temples. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we continue this conversation tomorrow? It’s going to be morning soon, and we both need our sleep. I can’t tell you how nice it’ll be to sleep without the disruptions of the other patients.”

  “You didn’t have to live like that.”

  Her mouth forms a straight line. “You don’t understand.”

  “That’s one thing you have right.” I spin around to exit the room, but first I turn back to her. “I’m glad you’re safe. Kenzi and I have your best interests in mind. I hope you have our backs.”

  Grandma’s eyes widen. She doesn’t respond.

  Sighing, I close the door between us. Then I feel the wall until I get back to the main part of the second floor and have the nightlights guiding my way again.

  What secrets is she hiding? And what didn’t she want me to see in the armoire?

  26

  Ember

  The smell of bacon wakes me. For a moment, I think I’m back home and Mom must be making a weekend breakfast. On the rare occasions she didn’t work, she made elaborate breakfasts for the two of us. Richard was rarely there, as he was always working.

  But reality hits me almost as soon as I think of Mom’s cooking. She’ll never make another breakfast again. No more of her special chocolate pancakes or fruit and whipped cream-covered waffles.

  Never again.

  The thought of that makes me want to stay in bed all day and feel sorry for myself. Luckily, I don’t have to work at the art camp this week, so I could make myself stay home under the covers. But Gretchen wants to go to the beach today, and she’ll drag me kicking and screaming if she has to. Plus, it would do me good to get out of this house and away from the craziness. And I definitely need more sun. The popular girls will start calling me a vampire if I don’t tan soon. Not that I care what they think.

  My stomach rumbles and I force myself out of bed. The sun is shining brightly, lighting up the room. If I didn’t know better, I’d never guess how creepy this place is at night.

  I’m tempted to get a shower before heading downstairs, but that can wait. I mean seriously, bacon.

  A glimpse of my reflection in the mirror makes me jolt. My hair is standing out in all directions and I have dark circles under my eyes—not surprising given how long it took me to fall asleep last night.

  I pull my hair back and dab a little coverup underneath my eyes. Just enough to make sure my aunt or grandma don’t start to worry. Though I have to wonder if Grandma would notice or care. When I was little, she fussed over me. But that was before living a lie and not even letting us in on what was really going on.

  It’s hard not to wonder what Mom would’ve thought of all this. She didn’t get mad often, but something like this would definitely set her off. We all really believed Grandma had forgotten everything and everyone. But it was all a sham to hide from Richard. This is definitely going to take some digging.

  I’m going to get to the bottom of this one way or another.

  But first, bacon.

  My stomach rumbles, and I head downstairs. It’s even brighter in the main part of the house where there are so many windows to let in the summer’s morning light.

  Conversation sounds from the kitchen. Not surprising. Grandma and Kenzi are probably talking about the tunnel or another of Grandma’s many secrets.

  But then I hear a male voice. I freeze mid-step. A guy is here?

  I strain to hear the conversation but can’t make out any words. Only tones, and one of the people talking is definitely a dude.

  I look down at my choice of sleepwear. Tiny polka-dotted shorts and a camisole. Hardly appropriate to wear in front of some guy. I hurry upstairs and slip into a loose but light hoodie and some capri pajama pants. It’ll have to do. Hopefully, it isn’t someone young and cute. If they invited Luke in, the kid who delivers our groceries, I would die of embarrassment.

  Maybe a shower isn’t such a bad idea.

  But my stomach rumbles, convincing me to go downstairs as I am. Surely, Kenzi would warn me if a hot guy was downstairs. Even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. That’s what he gets for coming over so early.

  I make myself go down the stairs again. As I creep along the hall, I realize I recognize the male voice. Can’t place it, but it is familiar. Makes me more curious and offers relief—it’s not Luke.

  When I enter the kitchen, I don’t immediately see our guest. Grandma stands at the stove, flipping over a sausage. My aunt must be at the table with the dude.

  Grandma turns to me and smiles brightly. “You finally woke. Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” I head over to the Keurig machine and make myself a cup, not bothering to put anything in it. It’s a black coffee kind of a morning. I take a few sips before turning around.

  When I do, Grandma hands me a full plate.

  Even with as hungry as I am, I doubt I can eat that much.

  “Eat up,” she says. “You need more meat on your bones.”

  “She’s fine,” Kenzi says.

  “Thank you.” I sit next to her and study the familiar man on the other side of her. It feels like I should know who he is, but I don’t.

  “Morning, Ember.” He nods.

  Great. He knows my name.

  “Hi.” I sit and take a bite of bacon.

  Kenzi turns to me. “You remember Detective Felton?”

  Suddenly, everything comes back to me. I don't know why I didn’t recognize him before. Maybe it’s the plain clothes that threw me. But then, I think he wore a leather jacket before, so that doesn’t explain it. Probably the stress of everything. I was dealing with my mom’s death when I’d seen him before. I nod to him. “Yeah. Hi. Everything okay?”

  “Just came to see the tunnel your aunt was telling me about.”

  “Oh?”

  “We were concerned about its safety.”

  I pick up another piece of
bacon. “Were? You’re not anymore?”

  “I still am, but the fact that your grandmother has been using it all this time puts my mind at ease. Although I would like to check it out to be sure. Originally, I was going to bring a crew. Might still, depending on how it looks.”

  I glance at Kenzi. “Are we going to check it out too?”

  “I am. I want to see it for myself.”

  “So do I.”

  She and the detective exchange a glance.

  “You aren’t going to let me, are you?”

  My aunt gives me an apologetic expression. “Once we know it’s safe, you can have a look. I don’t want to put you in danger.”

  I turn to Grandma. “Is the tunnel dangerous?”

  “Not at all. Whoever built it knew what they were doing. There are support beams all throughout. It could survive an earthquake—and in fact, it has. We’ve had many over the years, and the tunnel hasn’t suffered a bit.”

  “See?” I glance at Kenzi. “It’s fine.”

  “We’ll be the judge.”

  The detective straightens his back and pushes the chair out. “Actually, I’m going to do a walk-through first.”

  My aunt’s mouth drops open. “What?”

  I stifle a giggle.

  He nods. “I’m waiting for my partner, then we’ll have a look. If anything appears dangerous, we’ll turn around.”

  Kenzi frowns. “You have to follow protocol?”

  “There’s hardly protocol for how to explore a secret tunnel, but this is how our captain thinks we should proceed.”

  “But my mom, an elderly and frail woman, has been going back and forth for …” Her voice trails off then she turns to Grandma. “How long have you been using the tunnel?”

  “That depends. Who are you calling elderly and frail?”

  “How long?” Kenzi’s brows draw together.

  “Long enough.”

  “That doesn’t tell us anything.”

  Grandma shrugs. “What do you expect from a decrepit old lady?”

  My aunt scowls. “That isn’t what I said.”

  Instead of responding, Grandma fills the sink with dishes and soap.