#7-9--The O’Connells

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  Nothing.

  “So there was a knife and blood and a crime scene, and you basically…”

  “Cleaned up,” she said. “I think that’s what you’re getting at. Yes, Jack, I cleaned up a crime scene. I cleaned up the office, I destroyed evidence, I dragged my impressionable teenage son into something unknowingly because he walked into the middle of everything as I was trying to wrap my head around it. You know what? That night has been with me for so long, yet there I was, all these years later, thinking it had finally stopped haunting me. I had spent night after night trying to make sense of what happened.”

  She killed him, he thought. It was his first thought, yet he couldn’t ask. “Go on,” he said. “Tell me everything, Iris, so I can figure out how to help.”

  She merely nodded. He could see how shallow her breathing was. This wasn’t the Iris O’Connell he was used to, who was always smiling and laughing with her kids. “Raymond had been acting strangely for some time, and I suspected he was involved in something, but I kept telling myself it was nothing. Have you ever known someone so well and then realized one day that you didn’t know anything about them? I did.”

  She didn’t let him answer. He could see how she was struggling to find the words. “I just told myself I likely didn’t want to know, or it was nothing. Men I’d never seen before had started showing up late, when the kids were in bed, when I was getting ready to turn in for the night and expecting Raymond to follow. He’d started keeping to his office downstairs. When I came home with the kids to make dinner, there were times I found him there instead of at work. He was good with his hands, could fix anything. But he became dismissive, secretive, and I could feel him pushing me away. Then that night happened…”

  That was all she said. Then she coughed.

  “Let me get you some water,” Jack said, striding over to the small bar fridge. He opened it and reached for one of the bottles his wife kept stocked for him, then closed the fridge and took a second before turning around. Held out the water to her.

  “Thank you.” She unscrewed the cap and took a swallow.

  Jack took in the legal pad waiting on the desk for him to write something. His wife’s mother was confessing to something she’d done, and right now, he was positive this knowledge would be just something else that could come between him and his wife.

  “So let’s go back to that night,” he said. “You said there were men there. Who were these men?”

  She pulled in a breath and glanced down. “You know, Jack, I don’t know who they were. I’d never seen them before. I’d only heard voices and gone down once, and I saw a man, balding, sitting with my husband. The other standing. I’d never seen him before. But have you ever met someone and realized there was something about them, something that made you swear you’d never forget their face? Well, there was something about them that bothered me.

  “That was the first time Raymond ever dismissed me—you know, telling me to go to bed, that he had business that didn’t concern me. I wanted to stand my ground and tell him where to go, but the way he looked at me and the amusement on the stranger’s face… I left. Of course, I waited for him, but I eventually fell asleep. I’m not even sure he came to bed. I was furious, and you know what I did? I ate that anger. I didn’t speak. Then I realized after days that he wasn’t going to apologize. That was the first time that it seemed as if he’d suddenly changed into a different person. He was no longer the tall, dashing, dark-haired, blue-eyed devil who’d arrived in town one day and swept me off my feet, a man who’d turned my life, our life, into a dream. It had turned into a nightmare.”

  He was pacing now, his arms across his chest. “I’m not understanding what happened. You need to tell me what you did. Did you hurt him?”

  She made a face and started to say something, but she pulled in a breath, and her jaw slackened. She glanced over to the window and shook her head before looking back to him. “There was a letter on his desk, in his handwriting. All it said was ‘Goodbye. Don’t look for me. I’m sorry.’ The problem is, Jack, I had woken up on the floor of his office and seen the mess and the blood, and I didn’t remember what had happened or how I’d got there. All I knew was that I was suddenly standing in the middle of something gruesome, bloody, and I had no idea where my husband was…”

  He was positive there was more. He stared at her as she lowered her head, looking down at her hands, flexing them and holding her ringless fingers out in front of her as if they held all the answers.

  “Are you telling me you woke up in a crime scene, and there was blood, a knife, and a messy room, and you don’t know how you got there? You remember nothing? Were you knocked out? You didn’t call the police?”

  She shook her head, and for a minute, he had to remind himself this was Karen’s mother, because if it had been anyone else, he’d have told them he didn’t believe them.

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t call the police, the sheriff,” he said. “That makes absolutely no sense, Iris.”

  “You don’t get it, Jack?” she said.

  He just stared at her, because none of this made any sense. “No. Fill me in, Iris, because from where I’m sitting, you haven’t given me one reason yet why you couldn’t have called the police. Why didn’t you report him missing? People had to wonder where he was. He had a job, right?”

  All Iris did was lift her blue eyes to him, and this time her expression was filled with a confidence he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. “Reporting him missing wasn’t an option,” she said, “because when I woke up, the knife was in my hand.”

  Chapter Three

  When Ryan O’Connell stepped inside his house, he froze. The TV was displaying some videogame he’d never seen before, and Alison was on the sofa with a lanky teenage boy who had short dark hair and long legs, wearing blue jeans and a gray T-shirt. They were sitting side by side, controllers in hand, playing some guns-blasting game, which he had no idea his daughter had any interest in.

  No, scratch that. He knew she hated everything about videogames.

  He paused for a second, feeling dusty and dirty from the trail and hearing a clatter from the kitchen just as Eva came racing through the front door behind him, followed by Charlotte, who was appearing more pregnant every day, in a T-shirt and yoga pants, her long dark hair hanging loose.

  “Didn’t know Alison had a boyfriend,” Charlotte said. “Aren’t they cute together?”

  His sister-in-law’s comment had him taking another look at the boy as he stood there. He should go upstairs and shower and change, but he stared at his daughter, who was sitting far too close to that boy, a young man who could’ve been older than her.

  Charlotte called Eva into the kitchen, but Ryan still couldn’t pull his gaze from Alison. She was smiling an unusual smile that he’d never seen before, and it appeared she was ignoring him. Her shirt was soft green, v-cut, and showed the curve of her breasts indecently. Like, where the hell had she gotten that shirt? Had Jenny just let her walk out of the house dressed like that?

  “Didn’t know you liked video games,” he said, unable to stop himself, as he stepped into the living room, his hands on his hips.

  Alison instantly went from smiling to looking as though she might bite his head off. As she looked up at him, he didn’t miss the mascara, liner, and eye shadow that made her appear way older than her sixteen years. She said nothing, but he’d have been a fool to miss the way she gripped that controller a lot harder. She wanted him to leave, of course. Then there was the fact that she still hadn’t answered him.

  “I’m Alison’s father,” he finally said, dragging his gaze back to the boy as he stood right in front of the TV. “And you are?”

  The boy stood up, and for a minute, by the way his eyes appeared bigger, he thought he was scared shitless. Good!

  “My name is Brady, sir,” he said. “I go to school with Alison.” Then, as if he thought he should, he held out his hand.

  Ryan kept his hands resting on his hips
and stared at the outstretched hand for one second and then another before shaking it. The handshake was a little soft; maybe that was why Ryan squeezed harder. He looked down at Alison, whose dark eyes, her mother’s eyes, looked up at him with a ton of teenage misery. Her arms were now crossed, which did nothing to hide the fact that her breasts were barely covered by that shirt.

  “So where do you live, exactly?” Ryan said. “Close by? You said you go to school with my daughter?”

  “Mom…!” Alison shouted, then stood up and stomped out of the room.

  Ryan made no motion to move, taking in the confusion on Brady’s face as he looked over to Alison leaving and seemed to realize he was standing before a man who could make his life a living hell. Oh, Ryan hoped he believed that—and by the way he swallowed a thick lump, much like a poacher caught red handed, he did.

  “Actually, not far,” the boy said. “My dad and I just moved here, just up the block.”

  He let the boy pull his hand away. What the hell was his name again? Right, Brady. He was now sweating, and Ryan didn’t pull his gaze from him, considering what else to ask a kid who appeared too much like the boy next door, a boy who could have some unhealthy ideas about his daughter. He heard a squeak of the floorboards but didn’t look over, hearing footsteps coming his way.

  “So are you in the same classes as my daughter?” Ryan said. “What do your parents do? What made you move here? You said something about your dad—just you and your dad?”

  Brady was tall, close to his height, and seemed to shuffle in front of him. Ryan crossed his arms the way he did when questioning someone who was doing something they knew they shouldn’t. Maybe he should add in another couple questions. He half expected the kid to make an excuse and head for the door. He hoped he would.

  “Yeah, Alison’s cool. She’s in my earth science class. She makes a boring class fun.”

  Fun, his daughter? He wondered if his eyes bugged out.

  “And yeah, it’s just me and my dad. My mom died when I was a little kid…”

  A hand touched his arm, and he was forced to pull his gaze from the kid, still trying to figure out the extent of Brady’s interest in his daughter. He was very well aware of the kinds of things that went on in the minds of teenage boys, considering he used to be one. A seventeen- or eighteen year-old boy’s hormones were the exact kind he didn’t want around his daughter.

  He felt the squeeze on his arm again and glanced down to his fiancée, Jenny, whose dark hair was pulled up, her cheeks plump and her lips full.

  She took him in with an odd smile. “Excuse me, Ryan, can you help me in the kitchen? I need your help reaching something.”

  Was she kidding? “Now?” he said. “You need it right now? What is it? Just give me a minute.”

  But her hand slipped in his, and she was pulling him out of the living room when he hadn’t even made his point yet, found out who the kid’s dad was and why he’d moved there, and let Brady know exactly what his expectations were when it came to his daughter.

  “No, it can’t wait,” Jenny said. “Come on. I need it now.”

  He glanced back to his daughter, whose expression was unsmiling. Alison said something to Brady, and then Ryan was pulled into the kitchen, where Charlotte was laughing, perched on a stool at the island. Eva was beside her with a small bowl of potato chips, munching.

  Jenny let go of his hand and walked over to rest a cutting board on the island along with a bag of carrots. Then she picked up the knife and started slicing one.

  “So what do you need me to get down?” he said, looking around.

  All Jenny did was roll her eyes and let out a sigh. Charlotte was still laughing softly. He took in Jenny’s multicolored blouse, her blue jeans, and the ring he’d given her because she’d finally said yes.

  “Nothing, it’s just that you’re intruding. So you stay here and out of the way.”

  “What? I’m what? What the hell?” He found himself looking over to Charlotte, who was giving him everything, a big smile on her face, laughing again. Little Eva appeared confused when Charlotte slid her hands over her ears.

  “You’re giving Brady the third degree, and Alison is furious. She’s scared you’re going to run him off,” Jenny said, so matter of fact. “So you just stay in here with us. You leave her be. He’s a nice boy. He just moved here with his dad, he’s polite, and…”

  “He’s a teenage boy who has only one thing on his mind—and what the hell is she wearing, anyway? Did you see her shirt? She may as well not be wearing anything at all…”

  Charlotte was still laughing as she leaned over Eva, her hands still pressed over her ears. He heard a car door outside.

  The look Jenny gave him, hand on hip, was something he’d seen only a time or two. “Yes, it’s rather revealing,” she said, “but pick your battles. She’s sixteen, Ryan, and you know what? I’d rather she wear what she’s wearing now than what she used to, remember? And might I point out that she brought him home, you know, here with us, rather than sneaking around, doing God knows what? She brought him here, under this roof, where your family is coming over, everyone. They’re right in the next room, playing video games, not out someplace, getting in trouble…”

  “She hates video games,” he started, and this time Charlotte let her hands drop because she was laughing so hard. Eva just stared up at him with a look of confusion.

  “Ryan O’Connell, you know nothing about women,” Jenny said. “It’s not about the video games. It’s about the boy. She likes him, so she’s playing video games because he likes them. She invited him over because she wants to be with him. So you’re going to stay in here and let Alison have her fun with a nice boy, a boy who, by the way, in case I didn’t point this out, Alison wants everyone to meet. You know it’s family night, and when the rest of your family shows up here and he has to talk to them, Alison and I would rather him not run screaming from the house because of an angry father who wants to kill him. She wants him to come back, and I want him to come back—here, where we live, under this roof, so she doesn’t have to start sneaking around! Understand?”

  “Hello…?” It was Karen.

  He heard the door slap closed but didn’t turn to look. He was pretty sure she was now in the living room, saying something to Alison and Brady. “Well, it sounds like Karen’s in there now. Are you planning on pulling her out, too?”

  Jenny opened the door of the fridge, twisted the cap off a beer, and handed it to him. “Nope, because your sister isn’t going to scare him off.”

  Just then, Karen walked into the kitchen. “Alison has a boyfriend?” she said in a low voice.

  He could see the front door open again to reveal Suzanne, alone, and Owen and Tessa walking up to the house behind her.

  “So where’s Mom? Thought she’d be here,” Ryan said, dragging his gaze back to the women.

  “Your mom had a meeting or something,” Charlotte said. “She said she couldn’t take Eva today, so I took a rest day, as Marcus insisted. We had some girl time.”

  “Yup, me and Charlotte made a cake, chocolate,” Eva said, looking up, and he couldn’t help rustling her hair.

  “Speaking of which, it’s cooling, but Marcus can go and bring it over when he gets here,” Charlotte added.

  “Yum, sounds good. So what meeting?” Ryan said. Since when did his mom have meetings to go to?

  Jenny just shrugged, and Charlotte gave him an odd look and shook her head as if he’d asked a stupid question.

  “Who has a meeting?” Owen said, his arm across Tessa’s shoulders, as the two strode into the kitchen.

  Ryan was still getting used to this relaxed version of Owen. They were both in blue jeans and jean jackets. He knew his brother was spending all his time at Tessa’s, and it wouldn’t surprise him if he put his own house up for sale.

  “Mom,” Ryan told him. “Charlotte was just saying she had a meeting today, so she couldn’t take Eva.”

  Suzanne rested a case of beer on the counter, t
hen opened the fridge and started putting it in. The fridge was stuffed with food and the beer he’d already picked up days ago, so she left the rest on the counter in the box. “Oh, is that why Mom was at your office, Karen?” she tossed out over her shoulder.

  Everyone looked at Karen, who had an odd expression. “I haven’t seen Mom today,” she said. “I was in court and came right from there. You’re sure…?”

  “Uh-huh,” Suzanne said. “Saw Mom downtown as I was dropping Harold off at work. His car is in the shop. Saw her go inside your office. Just figured she was there to see you.”

  Karen shrugged as her phone dinged, and she rested her purse on the counter and pulled it out, making a face. “Jack’s going to be late. He’s meeting with a client,” she said.

  Everyone said nothing for a second.

  “Suzanne, why don’t you call her and see if she’s on her way over?” Ryan said, nodding to her, though she already had her cell phone out and was texting. Apparently, she was on it.

  “Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connell…” It was Brady, and there was Alison beside him, watching him in a way that said she thought he walked on water. “Just wanted to thank you for letting me come over and hang with Alison.”

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” Jenny said.

  Suzanne and Karen seemed to have gotten into a huddle, but whatever they were saying, he couldn’t hear it. Owen gave everything to Brady and Alison, then kissed Tessa’s cheek and opened the fridge to pull out two beers.

  “I told Brady it was okay to stay for dinner,” Alison said.

  Ryan took in the boy. He was tall and a little too good looking, in his mind. He had this manner about him that seemed too charming, too charismatic.

  “Yeah, please, Brady, stay for dinner. You’re more than welcome,” Jenny said, then angled her head toward him, her eyes imploring. Ryan knew there was an expectation in that look.

  “Of course, you’re welcome to stay, Brady,” he finally added, wondering whether there was an edge in his voice.