Her Secret Son

by Hannah Mary McKinnon

  “Think about it, sweetheart.” He stared at her as if she was the only thing in the entire universe that mattered, his voice quiet, gentle, but the gun still on me. Emily took a step back and he moved closer. “Only the three of us know about Alex. We’ll say you were having an affair—”

  Despite myself, and the situation, I laughed, but Tyler ignored me.

  “—and I came to the cabin to confront you, but he went crazy.” He kicked over a chair, brought his knee up under the rickety dining table, flipping it to the floor. “I had no choice. He attacked me. It was self-defense.”

  Emily shook her head. “No. No, we can’t, we—”

  “We can, baby, we can. Then we’ll wait, just for a while, before an anonymous tip will lead us to Hunter, and we’ll get him back. It’ll be the three of us again, the perfect little family you’ve always dreamed of.”

  I took a step forward. “You can’t let him—”

  “Don’t move,” Tyler said. “Emily, listen to me. If we don’t do this, we will go to prison, and you’ll never, ever see Hunter again. It’s the only way.”

  She looked at me, and I could see the decision taking shape in her eyes. Whatever affection she’d had for me over the past few days evaporated, the feelings she’d lost for Tyler reclaiming their ground. I finally understood what she’d meant when she said I reminded her of a former version of herself—it had been the woman she was when she’d met Tyler, when they were happy and in love. She’d been trying to recapture that with me, the way I’d been trying to recapture something I’d once had with Grace, too. And now I’d die if I didn’t find a way to escape, and while Logan would be reunited with his parents, their despicable secrets would still be intact. I had to fight, I had to win. They didn’t deserve to have him back.

  “Emily,” I said. “You’re not a bad person. Don’t let him do this.”

  “I’m sorry, Josh, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice flat, her eyes dark, bleak. “I’ll have my son back. I’ll have Hunter again.”

  “That’s right, sweetheart,” Tyler said. “That’s right.”

  I calculated the risk of lunging at him, attempting to grab the gun from his hands. But I knew he’d put a bullet in me before I got to him, could then actually say it was self-defense. As I prepared myself for Tyler’s shot, a flashing alarm signal went off in my mind, something about Emily’s story that didn’t make sense, and I clutched at the wispy thoughts, trying to piece them together, grabbed hold of an idea and didn’t let go.

  “Emily, wait,” I said. “If he lied to you about not knowing where Hunter was, what else did he lie to you about?”

  She looked at me, and I saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Shut up,” Tyler seethed. “Shut the fuck up right now.”

  This was it, my way in, the chink in Tyler’s armor. I didn’t know what I’d uncover by chipping away at it, or if it would lead to him shooting me faster, but at this point, I had nothing left to lose. “Are you sure Alex suffocated? Did you see the cushion? What if Tyler wasn’t protecting you? What if he was protecting himself? What if that’s all he’s ever done?”

  “Don’t listen to him!” Tyler yelled, and Emily grabbed his arm, moving the gun away.

  “What did you do to Alex?” I said, staring at him, watched his jaw clench over and over. “Did you manipulate Emily about that, too? Did she give Hunter up for nothing?”

  “You’re insane,” he said, shaking Emily off and pushing her away. “I never—”

  “You’re lying!” she shouted. “I can see it in your eyes. What happened, Tyler? Tell me!”

  “Nothing, I—”

  “Goddamn it, Tyler, tell me or I’m going to the police,” Emily said.

  She was about to shout at him again when he finally whispered, “I fell asleep with him.”

  “What?” she gasped. “With Alex?”

  “Yes,” he said, hands and lips trembling. “When I came home he was crying and you weren’t around, so I picked him up and lay down on the sofa for a few minutes. It was no more than ten, I swear. But when I woke up...he’d slipped. His face...it was against the back of the sofa...and...he was already gone, Emily. Alex was already gone.”

  Emily’s entire body shook, and I thought she would collapse until she reached for a chair and clung to it, her knuckles as white as her face. “You blamed me!”

  “I’m sorry,” Tyler said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” Emily shouted, spit flying from her mouth, eyes wide, filled with rage. “How could you do this? You said you loved me. You said you were protecting me from—”

  He lowered his gun, took a step in her direction, arms open. “Emily—”

  “Don’t touch me,” she spat. “You let me believe I’d killed my best friend’s child. Because of you I almost jumped off a bridge with Hunter. My God, I gave him away—”

  “But I kept track of him,” Tyler said, his voice thick, eyes brimming. “Don’t you understand? I always knew exactly where he—”

  “That makes it worse,” she screamed. “It makes it all so much worse.”

  “You’d have hated me. You’d have turned me in.” Tyler was begging now, the gun waving around in his hand as he spoke. “Look at me and tell me you wouldn’t. I loved you so much. It was the only way for us to stay together. But it doesn’t matter now. We’ll get Hunter back, and we’ll—”

  Emily wasn’t listening anymore. Instead she rushed at Tyler, lunged at him with such force she sent him flying backward, straight into the living room window. A sickening crunching sound filled the air, mixing with yells of rage and surprise as they both sailed through the glass. I almost didn’t hear the gunshot, a single popping firecracker noise, exploding as they fell onto the deck. It took me no more than a second to scramble through the shattered window and reach her, see the patch of red spreading across the front of her dress.

  “Josh,” she gasped, her chest barely moving. “Help me...”

  “Emily,” Tyler shouted as he staggered to his feet. “Emily.”

  Despite the steady stream of blood trickling from the deep gash on his arm, he still clung to the gun in his hand. “Don’t touch her,” he said, yanking me to my feet with his free hand, shoving me toward the broken window. “Don’t you touch my wife.”

  “She’s hurt,” I said, raising my hands, palms facing him. “We need an ambulance.”

  “No.” He swayed slightly, blood dripping from his wound. “You’re not calling anyone.”

  “Tyler, please, she’s bleeding. What if she dies—”

  “Then I’ll tell them you killed her,” he said. “I’ll shoot you and—”

  Whatever he was about to say next died in his throat when Emily plunged a long shard of broken glass into the right side of his neck. He fell to his knees and toppled onto his face, and she hovered, dazed, beside him. And all that time, those two, three, four seconds, I said nothing. Didn’t make a single sound.

  The gun dropped from Tyler’s grasp, and before I could move, Emily grabbed it.

  “Hunter.” Her eyes became unfocused, glassy as she staggered backward, the blood, so much blood, on her hands, arms, over her chest, splattered across her cheeks. “My baby couldn’t choose his parents,” she whispered, “but I can. Protect him from this, Josh. Keep him safe.”

  And then she put the gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Five months later

  My niece, Rachel Grace, arrived one cool November afternoon, kicking and screaming as she entered the world. As soon as we got the news, Logan and I rushed to the hospital, burst into the room with teddy bear balloons and an armful of stuffed dogs.

  “Congratulations.” I kissed Lisa’s glowing cheeks and looked down at the perfect baby snuggled on her chest, fast asleep. “Well done. She’s looks so much like you.”


  “Can I please hold her?” Logan asked, and I watched the excitement on his face as he perched on the edge of the chair with my sister, the woman who’d agonized over being a terrible mother already expertly showing him how to support Rachel’s head.

  When Ivan walked into the room, he pulled me in for a bear hug before quietly asking me how I was doing. They worried about me, him and Lisa, had checked in every day since my return from Faycrest, two fussing mother hens.

  I’d rehearsed what to say before I got a cell phone signal and called the police that night, decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. Lying by omission was easier than fabricating an entirely separate story, and Tyler had done the work of coming up with the most plausible lie, anyway.

  “Tyler suspected us of having an affair,” I’d said, and when the police asked if we were, I’d nodded. “He threatened us. I’m sure he’d have killed us both if Emily hadn’t pushed him through the window. She was protecting me, and he didn’t mean to shoot her. It was an accident, but afterward, when she stabbed...”

  They concluded that was why she killed herself. She’d been acting in shock when she’d stabbed Tyler, and then the horror, the guilt, the regret, it overtook her. It was all too common. They questioned me for hours, had me sign a statement and eventually let me go. I kept up the pretense by moving into a room at the Travelodge, an act of good faith, an open display of innocence for all to see.

  Ethel visited, as did Bill and Felicia, all of them expressing concern for my welfare, saying it wasn’t my fault, I wasn’t to blame, but their eyes betrayed them. When I told Bill I couldn’t stay in Faycrest more than another few days, he told me not to worry, he understood. I thanked him for being so understanding, made all the right noises, kept all the right lies.

  Two months after I returned to Albany, Ivan came by the house on his own. He handed me an envelope, and I immediately knew it was the birth certificate for Logan. I pulled out the document, my eyes darting over the details, confirming they were what I’d asked for—Grace’s name as the mother, the father’s unknown. I’d scrimped together every penny I had to pay for it, sold Grace’s car and pawned the engagement ring I no longer needed, but still it hadn’t been nearly enough. Lisa covered the rest, pushed the cash into my hands as we agreed we’d never speak of it again.

  “It says Portland, Oregon,” I said now, looking at Ivan, wondering if this was a moment I’d point back to, remember it as the second everything changed—for the better this time.

  “That way you can tell Harlan you mixed up the state,” he said. “Or don’t say anything at all because it’ll pass muster. I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s over.”

  I still held my breath until the guardianship application went through, and couldn’t relax when we went out for dinner to celebrate. In time, I hoped I’d stop looking over my shoulder, panicking when the doorbell rang, expecting to see the police with a warrant for my arrest. Then again, I didn’t have the right to forget. That’s the price we pay for our lies, not knowing if, or when, everything will come crashing down.

  I looked at my son as he handed Rachel to Ivan, both of them beaming at her, laughing, their eyes full of love. Logan was doing well in grief counseling, he’d been praised at school, hung out with new friends—even nonbully Dylan—with whom he shared his fascination for dogs. My boy was slowly finding his way back to the happiness he deserved, and as long as I lived, I would protect him from the truth.

  Lisa walked over slowly, grimacing with every step. After making sure Logan was still preoccupied, she leaned in and said, “Did you see the news about Alex?”

  “The anonymous tip worked,” I said. “Felicia can bring her son home now.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with her not knowing what really happened to him?”

  “No,” I whispered. “And a big piece of me dies each time I think about it. But I can’t say anything without revealing what I know about Logan, and who’s to say they’ll believe it.”

  “Maybe they’ll figure it out when they examine the metal box, tie it back to Emily or Tyler somehow.”

  “Maybe,” I said, trying not to think about them finding my DNA, too.

  “Let’s hope so,” Lisa whispered. “Because they might decide they killed their kid, too.”

  I glanced at my son again, listened to him chatting with Ivan, watched him gently stroke Rachel’s bald head, the perfect big boy cousin. Forevermore I’d worry he was destined to become a manipulator, a murderer like his parents, a liar like me. Although I’d come to understand everyone had morals and principles, things we said—and genuinely believed—we would or wouldn’t do. Those morals and principles held upright until the moment we were faced with a situation we could never have imagined, put in front of an impossible choice, exactly as Grace had been. How she must have suffered over the years, agonized over her decision in secret, right up until the day she died.

  I’d never know what might have happened if Grace hadn’t taken Hunter from Emily on the bridge in the rain that day. Would Emily have jumped with her baby in her arms? Driven to the police to confess what she believed she’d done to Alex? In either case, would I have met Grace? Might she be alive?

  It was something I couldn’t dwell on. A boy named Logan came into my life one stormy afternoon. It no longer mattered how. What mattered was that we kept moving forward, together, and never, ever looked back. My darling Grace could rest easy now, because from this day onward I would forever keep my promise, and make sure her boy was safe.

  * * *

  Acknowledgments

  Such a huge amount of work goes into birthing a book, and I often think I have the easiest part—sitting at my desk (at times in my pajamas), making stuff up—so three thousand cheers to everyone else involved!

  To all the readers, librarians, reviewers, bloggers, book clubs and bookstore staff—I would be nowhere without you picking my novels. Thank you for wanting to get to know my characters, and their lives. I am forever in your debt and will work hard to keep earning the time you choose to spend in the worlds I create. Big shout-outs to new social media friends, including Kristy Barrett, Toni Callan, Michelle Dunton, Linda Levack Zagon and Kate Rock. You all rock!

  This third novel wouldn’t have happened if Cassandra Rodgers hadn’t signed me based on an early and slightly dodgy draft of my very first book—thank you. Thank you also to Carolyn Forde for accepting me into the Westwood family, and encouraging me to stretch myself as a writer. You’ve both had a huge hand in shaping me into the author I’ve become.

  A gigantic thank you to my editor, Michelle Meade, who has the most amazing insights, an incredible knack for “getting” my characters and more enthusiasm for my stories than I could have ever hoped for. You work tirelessly to make my scribbles and musings better, and I am so thrilled we tackled another novel together. I miss you already.

  To Nicole Brebner, Meredith Barnes, Randy Chan, Sean Kapitain, Miranda Indrigo, Linette Kim, Suzanne Mitchell, Lauren Nisbet and the entire HarperCollins/MIRA team—you are fabulous. From championing to PR, audiobooks to library relations, marketing to cover designs, copyediting to proofreading—what more could an author ask for? Thank you for your support, hard work and making my dreams come true.

  Where would I be without my family? Mum and Dad, Joely & Co—you’ve always believed in my writing and insisted from very early on that I don’t give up. Thank you. To my mother-in-law, Jeanette, who has become one of my biggest fans; thank you for bragging about my novels to anyone who’ll sit still long enough to listen. Thank you also to my other extended family members for reading my books (and rearranging them in the stores so they face outward).

  My long-term friends Becki and Emma have encouraged and helped me for years. You’re the best gal pals a girl could ever ask for. I’ll see you both in Switzerland very soon.

  An author needs local writing friends and I�
��m very fortunate to have found mine. Thank you to Brian Henry and the Quick Brown Fox community, and especially Donna, Lyanne, Mary and Shauna for the laughs and giggles along the way. Thank you to Amy Dixon for your support and encouragement, and to Karma Brown and Jennifer Hillier not only for forging the path ahead but also for encouraging me to follow.

  To my new writing friends—and there are many—Sam Bailey, Kimberly Belle, Emily Carpenter, Tish Cohen, Rebecca Drake, Kimberly G. Giarratano, Heather Gudenkauf, Robyn Harding, Wendy Heard, Karen Katchur, Shannon Kirk, Mary Kubica, Bianca Marais, Laura McHugh, Mindy Mejia, Kate Moretti, Roz Nay, Jill Orr, Kaira Rouda, Marissa Stapley, Paula Treick DeBoard, K.A. Tucker, C.J. Tudor and Wendy Walker—you all inspire me so much. I can’t wait to see you again soon.

  Special thanks to everyone who offered their advice and expertise as I wrote this novel, in particular Claudia Darcy, Harlan Gingold (love that name), James Hayman, Vickey “with an e” Longo, Theresa Roberts, Melissa Yuan-Innes, Jackie, Amanda and Donna. Huge thanks to Ed Adach and Bruce Coffin for taking the time to answer my strange questions, and for not immediately reporting me when I asked how to get away with kidnapping a child. All errors and omissions in the book are entirely my own fault, either because I lost the plot, or because I had to make things fit it.

  And finally, a huge thank you to Rob, the best and most supportive husband in the world, who said right from the start I should follow my dreams and “write those books,” and to our sons, Leo, Matt and Lex, who always believed I could. You are the greatest loves of my life, now and forever. Being with you just makes everything so much better.

  HER

  SECRET

  SON

  HANNAH MARY McKINNON

  Reader’s Guide

  Questions for Discussion

  At what point in the story did you suspect Grace wasn’t hiding the father’s identity, but the mother’s? What tipped you off, and how did you feel about that twist?