The Providence Trilogy Bundle: Providence; Requiem; Eden

by McGuire, Jamie

  How could there be nothing in his office? No safes, no secret doorways, no . . .

  Keys. There were keys in Jack’s desk. The first time I’d searched his office I assumed they were his car keys. But the car he’d driven himself—his Jag—was totaled. Scrap metal. What were the keys to?

  In my haste to get to the desk, my hip smashed into the corner with a loud crack. I stifled a cry and doubled over, using the desk to steady myself. I attempted to rub the sting away with one hand, and pulled open the drawer containing the keys with the other. I held the keys in my palm, trying to remember if I’d seen a lock that the keys might fit. I slowly turned my head toward the wall of cabinets. The center tower of files was locked.

  Surely, he wouldn’t be this obvious, I thought.

  I hobbled to the cabinets and tugged on the drawer. It was still locked.

  I began with the first key. It only went in halfway. I tried three more keys; the fourth easily slid in, but wouldn’t turn. Two keys later, I found myself cursing my father, Mr. Dawson, even the metal in my hands. I gripped the last key between my thumb and finger and closed my eyes.

  The key slid in, and I rotated my wrist. It began to turn, and then caught. None of the keys were to the locked file cabinet.

  “DAMN IT!” I said, throwing the keys to the floor. I kicked the cabinet, walked away, and then returned to land another kick, this time denting the bottom.

  Limping across the floor, I picked up the keys and tossed them into the desk drawer. I was done.

  I walked down the hall with my hand still pressed against my throbbing hip and stopped at the top of the stairs. Cynthia’s voice was weary as she spoke on the phone. Idling for a moment before taking the first stair, I heard her speak my name.

  “Nina’s fine. She’s upstairs, resting. What do you expect me to do? Forbid her to . . .? Honestly, you worry too much! She just didn’t want to be alone tonight. I heard some commotion upstairs; I assumed she knocked something over. It mustn’t have been as bad as . . .” She sighed. “Yes. I’ll check on her. Goodnight.”

  Cynthia turned to look up at me. I sheepishly waved, cursing under my breath for getting caught eavesdropping.

  “Are you all right, dear?” she called.

  “I’m fine. I ran into a desk and bumped my side. Who was that?”

  She shrugged. “Was it really necessary to yell out such profanities while I was on the phone? My friends were under the impression that I had raised a lady.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was being so loud.”

  Cynthia nodded dismissively. “I’ve got a beautiful ham in the oven. You’ll be staying for dinner, won’t you?”

  “Er, yes, I was going to stop by the hospital, but it can wait.”

  Cynthia made her way up the stairs. I followed into her study, where she set some unopened envelopes on her desk.

  “How is your friend doing?” she asked. I assumed she was just being polite.

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t been back since this morning, but no one’s called to tell me otherwise. I’m sure there’s been improvement.”

  “Wonderful news, dear,” she said, preoccupied.

  She pulled her pearl drop earrings from her ear and placed them on the silver tray that sat on a small table near the wall. My eyes wandered to a hutch that matched her table and desk. The fronds of a plant obscured the top cabinet, and I focused on a small silver circle on the top right corner.

  “Coming, Nina?” Cynthia asked, pausing at the door.

  “I’ll be down in a minute. I wanted to check my e-mail if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” she smiled. “Don’t be late for dinner.”

  I watched her walk out the door and waited as she descended the stairs. Once she was deeper into the lower level, I sprinted down the hall to my father’s office. Yanking open his desk drawer, I grabbed the small silver ring of keys.

  With a sense of excitement, I hurried back to my mother’s study and pulled the plant to the floor. It was heavier than it appeared, and I grunted as I worked to set it down without overturning the whole pot onto its side.

  After the first five keys failed, I blew my bangs from my face with a puff of air. Only two keys left. The sixth key slid in, and when I turned my wrist and the key continued to turn ninety degrees, I gasped.

  Pulling the cabinet door open, I peered behind me for a just a moment, afraid of what my mother would say if she caught me snooping in her things. There were several files, so I pulled all of them out and spread them on the floor. On my knees, I thumbed through contracts, shipping papers, a receipt for the ring my father bought me, insurance claims and filings, and the occasional deposit slip.

  I slid one folder to the side to uncover another with Jack’s no-nonsense scribble on it.

  Port of Providence

  My hands shook as I opened the flap of the folder. Did I really want to know? I felt I was opening Pandora’s Box.

  A thick, wrinkled manila envelope sat on top. I pulled the packet from the file and opened it. It contained a stack of black-and-white photos. Picture after picture featured a dozen or so different men, but those same faces appeared over and over, at times alone, and at other times together. One man who was most often the subject in the pictures stood beside the governor of Rhode Island. Another man was pictured in both casual clothes and some type of uniform; I assumed he was a police officer in formal blues.

  I’d seen enough movies to know that these were surveillance photos. I turned each of the pictures over, but they were all unmarked. I had never seen these men before that I could remember, and I couldn’t fathom why my father would have them photographed. I looked at the file on the floor, knowing I was about to find out.

  A handwritten sheet of paper caught my eye, and I poured over it. I flipped to the next page and the next. My heart pounded as the words burned into my irises. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

  “Nina? Dinner!”

  I rushed to gather the files and shoved them into Cynthia’s hutch. I locked the cabinet door and heaved the clay pot back to its shelf. After returning the keys to Jack’s desk drawer, I met Cynthia in the dining room.

  I sat in my usual chair, across from my mother. A steaming plate of food waited for me on fine china, and I grimaced as the mouthwatering smell invaded my nose. I realized I hadn’t eaten since five o’clock the evening before. I was famished, but couldn’t eat.

  “Aren’t you hungry, dear?”

  I furrowed my brow and stabbed a carrot with my fork. Her strained politeness would soon be chipped away and all the pleasantries would cease.

  “Not really.”

  “Well, why not?” I waited for the right words to come, and she rolled her eyes with impatience. “Really, Nina, you know I don’t like it when—”

  “Has Daddy always been a criminal, or was it something he took up just before he died?” I blurted out, unconcerned with the consequences.

  Cynthia’s fork fell to her plate with a shrill clang. She didn’t say anything for a long while. We both held our breath, waiting for the other to speak.

  “What did you say?” she finally whispered.

  “You heard me.”

  “No. I don’t believe I did. I’m sure you misspoke.” Her eyes fluttered as she ended her sentence.

  “Port of Providence.” I leaned forward in my chair, watching her expression change from insult to shock.

  “What? Where did you hear th—” Cynthia stopped mid-sentence and shook her head. She was flustered, which she rarely experienced.

  “I saw the file, Mother. Was it organized crime, or did he just skim off the top at the docks? You know his payroll was full of dirty cops, right?”

  “Nina Elizabeth Grey! You will shut your mouth this instant!” I could see the wheels in her head turning, and then she stood up to come to my side of the table, sitting beside me. “You saw files. What files?” I could tell her fury was subdued; she would address my disrespect later.

  “The f
iles locked in the hutch in your study, Mother. Stop playing dumb.”

  Her eyes tightened; my rudeness narrowly outweighed her curiosity. “I’ve never played dumb in my life, Nina. Why on earth would you—”

  “I want the truth.” I didn’t let my eyes move an inch from her gaze.

  “I didn’t bother myself with your father’s business dealings,” she said, turning away.

  “But you know what I’m talking about when I say ‘Port of Providence,’ don’t you?” My accusing eyes bored into her.

  Cynthia nodded slightly. “That’s not something you’d want to admit to having knowledge of, Nina. Forget you saw any of that,” she whispered.

  “Forget!” I was in shock. My father was a criminal? A thief? My face twisted into disgust. “He stole from the distributors he shipped for, he sold things on the black market, he smuggled illegal contraband, and he used cops to cover up his dirty work. Police officers, Mother! All of which he gathered evidence against to keep them from turning on him!” My eyes glossed over with anger. “Everything we have is from blood money. Jack had people beaten. He’s had people killed.”

  Cynthia wiped a tear and looked down at her lap. This took me off-guard; I had only seen my mother cry a handful of times, all of them following Jack’s accident and death.

  “Oh, Jack,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly. She looked at me with sympathetic eyes, “You were never supposed to see those things, Nina. Your father was always so careful to keep you safe from that part of his life. He hasn’t been gone six months, and I’ve failed him.” Cynthia rose to her feet and trudged to the door.

  I pushed myself away from the table and called after her. “Tell me I’m wrong, Mother. I need you to tell me this is a mistake.” My voice was closer to begging than the firm tone I’d meant to take.

  Cynthia didn’t turn around; she wiped another tear and sighed.

  I took a deep breath and braced myself. “Charles Dawson wants those files.”

  “He knew where they were?” she shrieked, flipping around.

  Anger surged through me. “You know who he is?”

  “He worked for your father,” she said, touching her mouth nervously in thought.

  I sat up higher in my chair, my muscles rigid. “Why is he harassing me, Mother? Why aren’t you upset about that?”

  “Nina dear,” her tone turned soft, “I told you. Your father did everything in his power to keep you removed from his dealings. I understand you were frightened; but you were safe, I promise.”

  “What does that mean? Why won’t anyone give me a straight answer?”

  Cynthia tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, the way she did when I was little. “Wouldn’t you agree that after tonight, some things are better left unsaid?”

  My immediate reaction was to scream at her and demand the truth, but she was right. I had lost my father again tonight, the reverence I’d once felt for him was replaced with debilitating disappointment. It was worse than losing him to death. All perception I’d had of him had been ripped away. He was no longer God in my eyes; he was just a man: a flawed, corrupt man.

  I considered Cynthia’s suggestion and nodded.

  She lifted my chin. “I’m so sorry, love.”

  “I’ve got to get out of here,” I blurted, turning away from her touch. Everything I knew was a lie. I left her alone to fetch my coat.

  “Where are you going?” she called after me.

  “For a walk,” I said, bundling myself inside my hat and gloves.

  “It’s freezing outside, Nina! Be reasonable! Please let Robert drive you!”

  I yanked my purse over my shoulder and jerked open the door. “I’ll walk to the bus stop and catch a ride to Brown. I’ll call you when I get there.” I avoided her inevitably pleading eyes as I marched outside, slamming the door behind me.

  Winter exploded in my face. The air was too cold to breathe, burning my nose and throat with each gasp of air that I took in. The wind had picked up, and the large snowflakes whipped around me. My hair thrashed against my face, and I squinted as the icy wind blurred my vision.

  I tried to sort the new information, but the freezing air along with my anger blocked any rational thought I could have. I reached the end of the drive and trudged into the street, walking as fast as my legs could carry me. My home had become a dark, wicked thing where corruption and scandal took place. I couldn’t bring myself to look back, even though I had no intention of returning.

  When the painful burn from the wind began to wane to a numbing sensation, I heard a vehicle slow down beside me. I continued to walk; I wasn’t in the mood to explain myself or argue with Robert. He was less capable of changing my mind than my mother.

  “Nina?”

  I knew that voice. It belonged to the one person I wanted to see. When I came to a stop, so did his SUV.

  “I’m taking the bus, Jared,” I said, looking straight ahead.

  “No, you’re not. I’ve come to take you home.”

  I stood perfectly still except for the occasional weaving when the wind attempted to knock me over.

  “Nina, it’s freezing outside.”

  When I didn’t budge, Jared opened his door and walked over to me. He stared at me for a moment and then bent down, sweeping me into his arms. He carried me to the passenger side, pressing his warm lips to my forehead.

  He placed me gently into the seat and paused. “What were you thinking?”

  I couldn’t utter a single word. I felt broken; it was all too much for me to accept in such a short amount of time.

  Once in his seat, he turned the heater to its highest setting and pulled forward. Occasionally, Jared would reach over and brush my hair back from my face or hold his warm hand affectionately to my cheek, but the only sounds were the heated air blowing through the vents and the road under the tires.

  The Escalade came to a stop on the street behind Andrews. Jared walked with me to the door in silence, but when I put my hand on the knob, he touched my arm.

  “Nina, I know it’s a lot to take in, but he loved you.”

  My eyes focused, and I shot a glare at him. “You knew my father?”

  Jared’s eyes tensed in anguish. “I know everything that he did was out of love for you, Nina. You were his world.”

  “You don’t know anything about him,” I said through my teeth. “You don’t know anything about me, and unless you give me some answers, you can leave. I am sick of being lied to!”

  “I’ve never lied to you,” Jared said, angry and shocked that I had dismissed him so easily.

  “Why are you so secretive? Why do you always know where I am? How did you save us this morning? How did you do all of that?”

  “This morning you were fine with not knowing all the details.”

  “That was before I found out my entire life was a lie.” Angry tears overflowed and rushed down my cheeks. “I just need one thing in my life—just one—that I know is real. I need someone to be honest with me!”

  “Nina,” Jared whispered, reaching out for me. I pushed him away, and he winced. “Don’t do that. I’ve had to stand by and watch you cry so many times. I can’t do it anymore.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked him, keeping him at arm’s length. “What do you mean you’ve watched me cry? Please just tell me the truth!”

  Jared hesitated and then sighed. “I can’t. Believe me when I say I wish to God that I could, but I can’t.” His eyes were heavy with a lifetime’s worth of frustration.

  “I believe you,” I said, opening the door. “I don’t want to see you anymore. Please leave me alone.”

  “Nina,” Jared said. I met his eyes one last time before shutting the door behind me. He knocked twice. “Nina,” he said in a low, desperate tone.

  I pressed my head against the door and let out a weak, muffled cry. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t worthy enough for the truth. Anger took hold of me again, and I pushed away from the door, making my way to my room.

  Beth
sat at her desk, clicking the keyboard on her lap top when I swung the door open. She jumped and turned when the door knob hammered against the wall.

  “Where were you? Ryan was waiting for you to come.” Her eyes bulged when she saw the expression on my face. “Nina?”

  “I went to The Gate to get a bite to eat before heading to the hospital, but I ran into Mr. Dawson,” I said, slumping onto my bed.

  “Mr. Dawson?” Her voice flew up an octave. “Why was he at The Gate?”

  “He grabbed me and told me he wanted me to get the papers for him—”

  “He grabbed you? Does Jared know?”

  My eyes darted to hers with suspicion. “What makes you ask that?”

  She hesitated, picking at her delicate fingers. “He always seems to have the best timing.”

  “He didn’t show up this time.”

  She leaned her head closer so that I would look at her. “Have you seen him today?”

  “He just dropped me off.” I sighed.

  “I don’t understand. He didn’t show up, but he brought you home?”

  “Can we not talk about this anymore?”

  “Oh. Sure. I’m sorry.” She dropped her arm from my shoulder and left me to sit on her own bed.

  After a few moments, Beth sighed and fidgeted.

  “What, Beth?”

  “Nina.” I waited for her to gain the courage for whatever it was she was struggling with. She took another breath, but it didn’t equip her with the bravery she was hoping for.

  “What is it?”

  “You love him,” she blurted out, quickly bracing for my reaction.

  “I don’t love him. I don’t know anything about him.”

  “How much is enough to know about someone before you can love him?”

  I thought back to the way I felt when I was around him, the way his touch sent electricity through my body, and the way I melted when he looked beyond my irises to something deeper, as if he could see my emotions dance around inside of me. I felt protected and whole in his presence that rivaled even the absolute security and love I felt being near my father. I shuddered when I considered how miserable my life would be if Jared did as I asked and left me alone.

  “You love him,” Beth confirmed as she watched my expression. “He loves you, too, you know. It’s so obvious, almost as if he loved you before you met.” I shook my head in denial, and Beth’s voice raised a tone higher. “Nina. Seriously? After everything that’s happened?”