All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2)

by Forrest, Lindsey

  “Okay,” she said. “Do you want to hear my theory?”

  His tone acknowledged the impossibility of stopping her. “Not really, but go ahead.”

  “All right.” Lucy gathered her thoughts. She had spent most of the afternoon piecing together a scenario to fit the known facts. “I think Francie does go out there with murder on her mind. No one takes a knife and a gun along for a reunion. I don’t think this is ever intended as a coming home – she doesn’t call Dominic, Laurie doesn’t call Mom and Dad. This is exactly what Laurie told Di it was – Francie’s quest for revenge.”

  Richard said wearily, “I’m not sure I buy that, but go ahead.”

  “At some point, Francie tells Laurie what she intends, and Laurie tries to talk her out of it. She tries to deal with it by herself. After all,” and Lucy bit her lip, “that’s what she always did, wasn’t it? Deal with things. She always took everything on her shoulders and tried to take care of problems without confiding in anyone.”

  “Nothing’s changed there.”

  “The only person she can turn to,” Lucy said, “is Cam St. Bride. Now why she doesn’t, I don’t know, because in her shoes I’d be screaming for Tom to help me. But that marriage – well, for some reason she doesn’t feel she can go to him.”

  Richard was drumming his fingers lightly on the table, the only outward sign of his uneasiness. “He may have been having an affair around this time. She said something about him seeing someone else. That may be why she didn’t ask for help. I know she didn’t tell him she was pregnant.”

  “Really?” Lucy was nonplussed. What an extraordinary thing not to tell a husband. Laura’s marriage must have been far more strained than she had admitted. “So the first he knew—”

  “— was probably when he received the call from the police.”

  Unbelievable. And fascinating, but beside the point. “So she tries to stop Francie by taking away her gun. And Francie retaliates by drugging her with something that induces convulsions.”

  “This drugging,” Richard said. “That’s difficult to buy. She ran the risk of doing real harm to Laura, and for what?”

  “To keep Laura from putting a spanner in the works or calling for help.”

  He said nothing. Then, unexpectedly, “I wonder what Francie slipped her.”

  Lucy shrugged. “That’s something I want to research – what sort of drug can cause convulsions or make someone act out of character. There’s something odd about Laurie ending up in that cove. In fact, nothing about her actions that day hangs together too well. She has to see you land, and she doesn’t run to you for help? I wonder if that’s the drug speaking there.”

  She had been straightening her exhibits, not looking at him. But, from the corner of her eye, she saw his hand, reaching for another Thin Mint, freeze just shy of the box. She glanced at him. He was staring off just beyond her arm, his attention arrested.

  “What is it?” What caught your notice?

  He shook his head.

  “Francie calls you.” She felt her chest start to tighten again. “You go out there and things happen. Di never shows up. Laurie falls into the cove because she is none too steady on her feet. She knocks herself out, and there she lies. Something happens between you and Francie, and you get hurt.”

  Now that ought to provoke a reaction. A protest, a denial, another demand for her to stop… nothing. She had never seen anyone so deliberately not react.

  “Francie—” oh, she hated this, she hated the pricking of that ancient wound. “Francie finds the infamous gun.”

  His face was utterly wiped clear of response.

  “I think you give her the bad news that you really don’t want her back in your life, and she flips out and shoots you.”

  No reaction again, and that told her all she needed to know.

  “We can’t know where Laurie hid the gun; maybe Francie knows the whole time where it is, but since Di never shows up, she hardly needs it – I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Francie is on edge – the person she wants to kill hasn’t shown up, you’re there, you – um, and then you tell her she’s history – and let me tell you, that is not the time to do it – and she loses her head. She fires several times, and mostly she hits the wall or the door frame – but at least one of the bullets hits you on your right arm.”

  He said, the word forced out of him, “Stop.”

  “No way, pal. Now you’re hurt, and you’re bleeding, and – in case you don’t get it – you deserve it. Francie comes to her senses, drops the gun, and rushes over to you, and she’s really sorry for what she’s done. You tell her to help you get to the plane. Then you pass out, and she has to fly. Somewhere, she has learned to fly. You land at Oak Bend, and Francie signs the landing card, and then she calls Dad and asks him to come. And he does. He drops everything and he rushes to you.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his fingers pressing against his temples.

  “I wondered why she called Dad, because I don’t think you wanted her to. But then I realized, she couldn’t call anyone else.” Lucy pulled out a downloaded statute from her folder. “Virginia law requires the reporting of non-self-inflicted gunshot wounds, and you must have been hit where it’s impossible to explain away as self-inflicted. I’m guessing your shoulder.”

  Richard said suddenly, almost violently, “I’ve asked you to stop, Lucy.”

  “No. I’m right. You know I am.”

  He seemed to be processing something; she saw his jaw flex once, as if he swallowed something hard. “Attorney-client privilege. I’m invoking it.”

  “Of course.” She didn’t need to crow; that statement represented a great compromise for him. “And you didn’t need to say it. I will never tell anyone, Richard, not even Tom unless I have to. I most definitely will not talk to Laurie about it, if you’re worried about that.”

  He conceded, “That’s one of my primary concerns, yes.”

  Lucy nodded. “I know. Can I go on?”

  He barely gave assent.

  “While Dad is patching you up, someone mentions Laurie. Maybe one of you spotted her in the cove during takeoff, or maybe Francie admits to Dad she drugged Laurie. Once Dad is satisfied you’re all right, he takes off to find her. While he’s waiting for help to arrive, he slips up to Dominic’s cottage and retrieves the gun, which he hides in his plane and eventually throws out the window into the bay.”

  Richard said shortly, “I can’t confirm or deny. I don’t know. I knew nothing about Laura being in the cove or Dad going out there.”

  “Someone told Dad Laura was there. And you know what, Richard? I think it was you. You’ve carefully avoided saying you knew Laura was there on the island.” He should have known she would spot his evasion. “You just keep saying you didn’t know she was in the cove. I think you knew she was there at Ash Marine because at some point you saw her.”

  He had seen Laura, no doubt about it. Laura must have walked in on him and Francie.

  He abruptly pushed back his chair. She felt the restless energy coiled inside him.

  “The rest is easy enough to figure out. Dad gets Laura admitted to a hospital, and he meets Cam, who’s rushed up here in his plane. The next day, Dad and Cam go out to the island.” If she hadn’t been watching, she would have missed his sudden stillness of his body. “Cam drives the rental car back. That explains the discrepancy in passengers for that second trip. Then the next day, Dad goes back, I’m betting to repair the cottage. He doesn’t want Dominic coming out there and seeing the bullet holes and the blood and the – er, sheets. In fact, I suspect Dominic never finds out about any of this. Everyone keeps him in the dark.”

  He lifted his hands. This was news to him.

  “After three days,” Lucy said, “Cam takes Laura home. His takeoff card says he is bound for Plano with one passenger. Laura is now out of the picture, and we won’t know anything of her for several more years.” She crossed her arms, exhaustion flooding her. “Francie vanishes off the
face of the earth. You get over your wound and swear off women. Di has no idea how close she has come to meeting her Maker. And Dad,” this hurt, “Dad covers up for everyone.”

  He did not speak for a long time, and she hadn’t a clue to his thoughts. She leaned back in her chair, utterly worn out. It had been a long time since she had performed in a courtroom. How did Tom do it, week after week, always the gladiator in the arena? How did Laura go out on stage, night after night? She would be a wreck if she had to do this more than once every few years.

  Richard spoke finally. “And, eleven years later, Laura comes back and tells Diana this story.”

  Lucy said, “If Di heard her correctly, but I think she did.”

  “Diana heard her correctly.” He circled around to the other side of the table and sat down in front of his laptop. “Laura told me much the same thing the night she came back.”

  Lucy came unglued. “What? You didn’t tell me that!”

  He didn’t look at her, but, she saw, he was exhausted too. No wonder. This had to be the crowning glory to a terrible two days – the party, Diana’s appearance, the drive in the storm to meet the daughter he had never seen.

  “Not all of it, of course. She said that Francie had bled to death at Ash Marine right after I had left her.” He struck a couple of keys and ignored her dropped jaw. “I knew better, of course, I knew Francie had done nothing of the kind. The last time I saw her, she was sobbing hysterically, and Dad was telling her to go wait in the other room while he patched me up.”

  “Why the hell would Laura say that when it wasn’t true?”

  He looked up at her, eyes weary. “I figured she was so angry with me, she said the first thing that came into her head to hurt me.”

  That went a long way towards explaining what had happened between Richard and Laura that first night. No wonder he had been in such a terrible mood the next morning. He’d all but been accused of a murder he knew could not have occurred.

  Like Diana. Laura had certainly flung the accusations around.

  “Di says,” she said tentatively, “that Laurie seemed sincere.”

  “The answer’s obvious.” At her expression, he said impatiently, “She believes it, and she believes it because Cameron St. Bride told her it happened. God, I was handed this on a silver platter, and I didn’t see it! I got a lecture on this very subject this morning.”

  “Lecture?” Lucy let herself be momentarily distracted. “Who lectured you?”

  “The biggest mouth in the West.” He leaned back in his chair. “Meg – who is convinced I am a fortune hunter, and don’t look so shocked, Luce. But she’s right about Laura. I’ve seen it myself. Laura – well, I hate to say it, but she is a little more trusting than she should be with people she cares about. Francie, for one, did a real number on her.”

  “You think he told her this, and she just accepted it?” How bizarre. She couldn’t imagine accepting something so earth-shattering on faith.

  “If he told her often enough, and she was vulnerable at the time, and I think she was.” Then he seemed to quote, “‘Maybe I’ve heard it enough times it’s one of those made-up memories.’ She said that about something she claims to remember from childhood. And if she never saw Francie again – wait, where’s that takeoff card?”

  He reached for the pile of cards and shuffled through them.

  “Here it is. Okay, St. Bride had a Cessna 152. If I remember correctly—”

  He turned back to his laptop and typed something. A couple of mouse clicks, and she saw him reading the screen. Cessna? What did that have to do with anything?

  After a minute, he turned the screen toward her.

  “I know what happened to Francie,” he said.

  “What?” Lucy peered at the screen. A picture of a prop plane – it meant nothing to her. She wasn’t the aviation nut in the family. “I’m sorry. What am I not getting here?”

  “St. Bride took off for Texas with one passenger,” Richard said. “That’s a two-seater. Even a sadistic bastard – and I’ll excuse him of being that – wouldn’t make a woman fly several hours in the second seat if she was suffering from severe sunburn on top of a miscarriage and convulsions. Francie was St. Bride’s passenger.”

  Lucy stared at him. “Let me see that.”

  She read the screen for herself. She compared the notation on the card – in Cam St. Bride’s handwriting, Cessna 152 – with the specs on the screen. Richard had to be right. Laura wouldn’t have been in any condition to fly in such a small plane for several hours.

  “I thought he had a fancy jet.”

  Richard’s shoulders lifted and fell. “I believe the real money came a few years later.”

  She said slowly, “You want to say it, or do you want me to?”

  “This is yours.” His face was set hard. “You did the detective work. Go ahead.”

  “All right.” Not one sister’s husband as deus ex machina, but the other. “If you’re right – Cam St. Bride is the last person who ever laid eyes on Francie.”

  The words hung in the air.

  “And maybe he did exactly as you said. He took her over the Atlantic and dropped her in.”

  He said, “Francesca.”

  “What?”

  “She must have really gotten under his skin.” He shoved back the laptop and stood up, and she saw now that he had gone beyond initial shock into fury. “So he tells Laura Francie is dead, killed by her own sister – too bad that bastard is beyond reach! I’d like to beat him to a pulp.”

  “I’ll hold your coat for you,” Lucy said. “But I don’t get it. Do you think he did kill her? Why?”

  “Who knows.” Richard turned around. “But I suspect it had to do with Meg. Laura, too, for that matter. Did you know that she has had almost no friends these last years? She’s had no one besides him. Some of that is Cat Courtney, keeping that under wraps, but still—” He slapped his hand down on the table. “She’s been more than a little isolated. And he did that to her. He took away her link to the past. He used her feelings of guilt to keep her in line – all very subtle, all in the name of his strategy.”

  Something didn’t fit. “Guilt for what?”

  But Richard went on as if he hadn’t heard her, “Except that the one person St. Bride couldn’t control in all this was Dad. I wonder what he said to persuade Dad to keep quiet.” Then he stopped, and anguish crossed his face. She saw the truth at the same moment he did. His voice hushed. “Of course. He told Dad about Meg.”

  She had always been convinced that Philip had guessed all about Richard and Francie, but, oh, she felt for her brother now. He had treasured his father’s respect, and to find out now, when he could do nothing about it, that Philip had known—

  “That’s it,” she said, and could feel the tears closing up her throat. “That’s why Dad covered up. You and Di were in that custody battle – maybe Cam suggested that the price of him not interfering was Dad’s silence. Remember, Di filed that pleading accusing you – maybe Cam said he’d refrain from giving her the proof that she needed.”

  “How would he know—”

  “Please. Pleadings are public papers.” Lucy rubbed her eyes. “You were a grown man, but to Dad you were still his son. He’d have done anything for you. And maybe,” she had to reach for another tissue, “he thought the best thing was for you not to know about Meg. You were threatened with losing one child. He wouldn’t want you to know you had already lost another. It would have only caused you more pain. So he went along with Cam.”

  Richard’s voice was tight and full of grief. “That sounds just like Dad.”

  Neither of them spoke for a while. She felt so overcome with exhaustion that she wondered how she could ever make it home. Judging by his drawn face, the final revelation had hit Richard hard; he was no longer the light-hearted man who had sparred over sweet and sour shrimp.

  But at least Philip and Peggy had known about their granddaughter. Not for a second did Lucy think Philip had kept her a secret
from his wife.

  Richard echoed her thought. “At least they knew about their granddaughter.”

  A long silence. And then Lucy said, “Okay. Now what do we do?”

  He shook his head.

  “We can’t let Laurie go on thinking Di did this. I realize it means telling her that her husband was a bald-faced liar, but—”

  “I want to know why she didn’t come to me.”

  “Who? Francie? Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  He got up again, walking around, fiddling with the control on the blinds. “No. Laura. Why, if Francie was planning all this, she didn’t pick up the phone and warn me. She must have known I’d move heaven and earth to stop—”

  Even in the pale light, she saw the blood drain from his face and an expression of – oh, dear God, what was that? Horror? Grief? Pain beyond reckoning?

  “Richard!” She ran to him. “What is it?”

  For a second, she thought he would not answer. He looked beyond her, his eyes burning, as if he looked back through time.

  “Two weeks ago,” he said, “was it just two weeks? She stood right in front of me. We were talking about Diana’s addictions, and she seemed upset – as she had a right to be. But then she said,” he stopped, and Lucy saw that iron control come down hard. “She said that Diana was trying to kill herself, and how convenient it would be, that I’d be rid of her yet.”

  Someone gasped in the stillness of the room. Maybe her.

  “I got angry with her, and we had a nasty blow-up. Later – when I thought about it, after she came over and apologized, I thought it was another of those stray remarks, like the first night, meant to hurt me. She was so angry with me for Francie—”

  Lucy said through numb lips, “She was eaten up with jealousy.”

  “Just so.” Richard put his hands to his face. “But it wasn’t a stray remark. She said it because—”

  A long, terrible silence. She should never have gone on this quest. She saw him shutting down before her eyes, retreating into his fortress and fortifying his walls. Shutting out the world.

  He said finally, “Laura didn’t tell St. Bride because she was trying to shield me from him, and she didn’t call me because she thought I was in on it. She thought I intended to kill Diana.”