Widow's Secrets

by Shelley Shepard Gray

She gaped at him. “You didn’t?”

  “No. No, I did not.” He looked as puzzled as she felt. “Wait a minute. Liana, have you really thought I killed Billy? You’ve thought that all this time? All these years?”

  “Not exactly. At first, I thought he had left me for a couple of days. Then I thought that maybe he was stuck somewhere.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, that maybe his dealer or somebody was forcing him to do something.” Feeling foolish, she said, “I guess that was stupid.”

  “What about after that?”

  She supposed she had to say it. “I...well, Mason, I remembered what I looked like when you saw me that day. I remembered how you took off after him and how I knew that you were going to talk to him. I knew that if you did go talk to him, he wasn’t going to take anything you said well.”

  “We didn’t have much of a conversation, Li. I meant to tell him what I really thought...but I didn’t.”

  She stopped fidgeting and forced herself to look her brother directly in the eyes. “Mason, to tell you the truth, I was stuck. No matter how much Billy and I didn’t like each other or how much neither of us wanted to be married, I knew he wasn’t going to let me divorce him. I also knew that I wasn’t going to survive too many of those beatings.”

  She lifted her chin. “So God help me, I hoped and prayed that you did kill him. Because then I would be free. And I decided that if I never spoke of it, if I never asked you, then I’d never have to actually know what happened,” she finished, her voice almost a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked devastated, but not exactly surprised. “I went to see Billy. I lied years ago about that. I told the cops that I never talked to him, but I did.”

  “What did you do?”

  “When I first found him, he was with his buddies. So I waited around until he was alone.”

  “And?”

  Mason shrugged. “And what do you think? I could tell he was hopped up on something. No way were we going to have any kind of conversation...so I told him that he should stop hitting you. And then I hit him.”

  “Really?”

  He looked down at his right hand that was fisted on his lap. “I’m not proud of myself, but he deserved it. Which is why, when he attempted to hit me back, I hit him a couple more times.” He bit his bottom lip. “To be honest with you, Liana, I did my best to hurt him so bad that he’d think twice about touching you again.”

  “Oh, Mason.”

  “I didn’t kill him, Liana. When I left Billy, he was lying on the ground, his nose bleeding and moaning like he’d gotten so soft, he’d never done all those two-a-days next to me back in high school.”

  “What did you think happened to him?”

  His expression turned blank. “By the time you told me he’d been missing for a couple of days, I was pretty sure that someone else killed him.”

  “I wonder who it could have been.” Then she realized that her brother didn’t look confused at all. “Who killed Billy, Mason?”

  “That, I’m not going to say.”

  She couldn’t believe Mason had come over just to leave it at that. Letting her frustration fly, she said, “Mason, whoever killed him broke his neck and handcuffed him and tossed him in a ravine.”

  “Do you think I care about that? I don’t.”

  “Then how about this. Haven’t we kept enough secrets?”

  “You aren’t wrong. The pair of us really have kept too much too quiet. It’s a bad habit. A dangerous one.”

  “Then don’t you think it’s time we stopped? I deserve to know.”

  For a minute she thought he was going to give in. But then he shook his head. “Sorry. There are some things...well, some things you never need to hear from me and this is one of them.”

  It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. “Aren’t you going to finish that thought and tell me that one day I’m going to thank you?”

  He didn’t crack a smile. “Liana, one day you’re going to thank me for this. I promise.” Before she could debate that, Mason stepped forward and kissed her brow. “Sorry, but I gotta run. Call Jeanie soon and set up dinner or something. I want to see more of you.”

  Realizing that it would do no good to argue with him, she said, “I will.” Walking him to the door, she added, “I love you, Mason, and I know you love me, too.”

  His expression cleared. “Never doubt that, Li. You’re my kid sister. I’ll always love you.” Looking awkward, he added, “So I’ll um... I’ll see you later. Now go on and paint.”

  She smiled as she closed the door. This was why God gave people siblings, she decided. Everyone needed someone in their life who told them what they really thought out of love. She didn’t always agree with Mason, but she knew he loved her and she loved him back.

  No, everything between them wasn’t perfect. But what they had was enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Down in the cold-case basement, sitting at his bare-bones cubicle across the room from Sergeant Crier, Kent knew it was time to close the Billy Mann case.

  He even knew how he was going to do it. Now, it was just a matter of when. It was going to require finesse when it came to the person he needed to speak with, for a variety of reasons. And because of that, he’d been working on his notes and reviewing his options for two hours. The last thing he wanted was to ruin the case because he was in a rush.

  No, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Liana by overlooking some detail and therefore causing her more harm.

  “You’ve sure been staring at the same five pages for a while,” the sergeant said. “They giving you fits?”

  Kent turned around to face his boss. “No. Not really. I think I’m more afraid of missing something obvious.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  It had taken Kent four months to realize a couple of things about the cranky, curmudgeonly sergeant. The first was that the man’s bark, while loud and pointed, really was worse than his bite. The next was that his first name was Vincent, which he hated. The third was the most important. The man cared passionately about these cold-case files, and he in no way thought of any officer’s time on the tasks to be anything but important and valued police work.

  All that was why Kent answered him as honestly as he could. “Thanks, but I think I need to do this on my own. I mean, as much as I can.”

  “I’m going to tell you something, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”

  “Okay...”

  Sergeant Crier looked at him intently. “From the time you started on the Mann case, I’ve noticed something different about you. Something better.”

  The younger version of Kent might have been offended. But the person he was now was intrigued. “How so?”

  “I think you care more now. It shows.”

  That took Kent off guard. “I’ve always cared.”

  Crier continued to look him in the eye. “Maybe you did and you just looked like you didn’t—or that was my perspective. What I’m trying to say is that while I might not have been real glad to have you down here in the basement at first, I sure am glad about it now.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.”

  The older man shrugged off the thanks like it embarrassed him. “I know your goal is to get back in the detective unit, but if you ever change your mind about these files down here, I’d be real glad to put in a good word for you to take over for me one day.”

  “Take over? Are you already thinking about retirement?”

  “I’ve been working for this police department twenty-five years, and that’s after I put in my five years to the army. I’m starting to think it might be nice to wear my own clothes for a spell.”

  “I can see that, Sarge.” Clearing his throat, he added, “And Crier, I’ll think about what you said. You’re right. I came here thinking that I needed to prove myself and then get out.
But after working on Billy Mann’s case, I have a new appreciation for it. Helping to solve his murder would mean a lot to me.”

  Sergeant Crier nodded in acknowledgment. “I’ve always thought that someone needed to speak for these victims. Someone who would give them the dignity they deserve.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, about your case.”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop overthinking it. You’ve got this. I promise.”

  “Yes, sir.” Just as Kent was about to tell Crier that he appreciated his belief in him, the sergeant’s phone buzzed.

  “Yeah?” he barked into the receiver. “Hmm?” He glanced at Kent. “Okay, then. Send him down.” When he hung up, Crier almost smiled. “You’ve got some company coming.”

  “Who?”

  “A man by the name of Mason Kelly. Ring a bell?”

  “Oh yeah.” That was exactly the one person he needed to see. “Do you mind if I take him to the conference room?”

  “You work here, too, Olson.”

  Grinning, he walked to the elevator just as it opened, revealing Mason Kelly in a pair of jeans, clean T-shirt and a pensive expression.

  “Mason, good to see you,” he said as he held out his hand.

  “Thanks, I think.” After shaking it, Mason looked around the area, taking in the cement walls, long strips of fluorescent lights lining the center of the ceiling and the industrial-grade dark blue carpet. “So this is where you work?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It feels like the morgue. Are there any windows around?”

  “Nope.”

  “Huh.”

  Kent chuckled as Mason was obviously trying hard to not disparage the basement any more than he already had. “It’s taken some getting used to, but it ain’t too bad.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “I thought we could meet in the conference room. It’s at the end of the hall. Someone tried to make it seem a little more livable a few years back.”

  Leading him into the space, Kent realized that the room really was a step up from the rest of the cold-case rooms. There was real carpet in a soft beige, the walls had been drywalled and painted a creamy white and the furniture was wood instead of metal.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the eight padded chairs surrounding the table.

  After Mason sat down, Kent sat across from him. “I just realized that I didn’t bring in a recorder or any paper. Do you need me to take notes?”

  “I don’t think so. But you can go get it if you want.”

  Kent debated before deciding against it. He needed to do what Crier had suggested and trust his gut. And his gut was telling him that Mason Kelly was a nervous wreck and that there was a very good chance he’d take off if Kent gave him much time to actually think about what he was going to say.

  “I’ll be okay,” he replied. “If we start to talk and I think I’m going to miss something I’ll go get some paper. Sound good?”

  “Yeah. That’s fine with me.” Mason shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Cracked his neck. Then stared back at Kent. “Are you going to start asking me questions?”

  “I could, but since I’m not exactly sure what you came to talk to me about, I’m afraid you’re going to have to get us started.”

  “Fine.” He took a breath, then blurted, “I know you’re seeing my sister. Even though you’re a cop, I really can’t blame her for liking you. I mean, you’re the complete opposite of Billy.”

  Since that wasn’t exactly hard to be, Kent figured it was pretty slim praise. “Thanks,” he said drily.

  “Liana seeing you, together with Billy’s body being found and the investigation...well, it’s made me have to deal with some things I had gotten good at pretending didn’t happen.”

  “Things like what?”

  “Things like I’m pretty sure our father killed Billy.”

  The statement hung heavy between them. No, it was more like Mason’s statement flitted between them like a nervous hummingbird. Busy and full of consequences that were hard to completely nail down.

  Mason grunted as he shifted yet again. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “I am. I was just attempting to weigh my words. I’m trying to get better about not saying stupid stuff.”

  Looking amused, Mason asked, “How’s that going for you?”

  “With Liana, pretty good. With you, maybe not so much.” Waiting a second, giving Mason a moment to compose himself and maybe realize that Kent was giving himself a hard time rather than the other man, he said, “Maybe you could tell me about why you think your father, uh, killed Billy.”

  “Because we were all starting to realize that Billy was beating up my sister something awful.”

  “It’s my understanding that he did that for a while. Maybe years.”

  Mason visibly winced. “I guess you think I’m worthless, huh? I mean, what kind of man who loves his sister would allow that to happen?”

  “You tell me.”

  “The thing is that I knew Billy from back in high school. He wasn’t someone I’d count as a close friend, but we’d been on the football team together.” He glanced at Kent. “Did you play?”

  “I played baseball and soccer.”

  “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Well, football and team building was big at our school. Our coach pretty much made us believe that all the guys on our team were family. We were responsible for each other.” He looked just above Kent’s shoulder. “You know, like if someone needed to study for a test so they could pass it and play on Friday night, we weren’t supposed to encourage him to blow it off. Things like that.”

  “I understand.”

  “Yeah. So Billy was okay. We weren’t really close but all of my friends thought he was cool. Later, when he started asking after my sister, I actually thought it was a good thing.”

  “Liana told me she was the artsy girl.”

  “She was that. And timid. And kind of mousy, if you want to know the truth.” Looking like he thought Kent was going to yell at him for saying it, he added quickly, “I know it’s hard to see that now. She’s real pretty and real talented. But back then? Years ago? Well, she was different, I guess.”

  “I reckon we were all different years ago.”

  Mason seemed to consider that for a moment. “I guess that’s true.” He shifted again. Felt in his pocket for a cigarette. When he found it empty, he cracked his knuckles.

  Finally, he spoke again. “So...at first, Liana seemed happy with Billy. And because she wasn’t just sitting by herself painting stuff that looked like giant blobs, we were all glad about that. I mean, me and Jeanie.”

  “Your parents weren’t?”

  “By then my mom was pretty sick and my dad was just stressing about work and bills. He didn’t want to deal with Li, if you want to know the truth. ʼCourse, he never really had.”

  “What changed?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, how did your father go from not really wanting to deal with Liana to murdering her husband?”

  Mason took a moment, obviously wanting to convey the past in a clear, concise way. “After they were married two years, Liana started avoiding all of us. Then Mom died and Liana came over with me to clean up her stuff.”

  Everything about Mason seemed to harden. “That was the first time I saw the bruises. It wasn’t just one, either. There were faded marks, cuts. She’d lost weight. She didn’t want to talk about any of it but I kept pressing her.”

  “How did Liana respond?”

  “How do you think? I went about it all the wrong way.” He closed his eyes. “I sound so concerned, right? I mean, what was I thinking? I actually told her that I needed to know who had hurt her. Like I didn’t think it could’ve been her husband.”

  “Did
she tell you it was Billy?”

  “No. She kept saying that it wasn’t any of my business and that there wasn’t anything I could do, anyway.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Billy stopped by and he looked really bad. Like he was on something. He was talking about some new buddies of his and how he was going to finally make something of himself.” Mason waved a hand. “Crazy talk.”

  “And?”

  “And my dad heard. And it was as if he finally saw the same thing I did. We took a good long look at Liana and realized that not only was she getting abused, we were letting it happen. So when Liana went to the bathroom to wash up, I told Billy that he needed to start taking care of her better.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  Mason scoffed. “What do you think Billy said? He said that Liana was fine and that it wasn’t any of our business, anyway, because she was his wife.”

  “What did your father say to that?” Kent prodded.

  “Dad started saying how he’d trusted Billy to look after her. He started talking about marriage vows and God and how Billy had promised to honor her. But that’s when Billy laughed.”

  “He laughed?” Honestly, Kent could feel his blood pressure rise.

  “Oh yeah. I couldn’t believe it. He said we were too much, suddenly acting like we cared about her. And that’s when he directly looked my father in the eye and said that if he was all that concerned about his daughter, where had he been when we were all in high school? Where had my mom and dad been back in eighth grade when girls had been teasing her—no, bullying her—about how she didn’t fit in?”

  “Wow.”

  Mason leaned back in his chair. “I know, right? That drug-addicted, wife-beating loser had not only been watching Liana for years, he’d been aware of our neglect.” His voice turned hoarse. “He’d known that no one in her house had ever really put themselves out there for her. Which was why he didn’t understand why Dad gave a flip about her now.”

  “That had to hurt to hear.”

  “Of course it did, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t told myself already. I mean, a guy can only believe so many of the lies he tells himself before he realizes that they don’t mean a thing.”