#7-9--The O’Connells

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “You know, that’s the thing, Jack. We don’t talk about clients and cases because we haven’t needed to, not because we just don’t. Might I point out there was no agreement not to share information? I’m not asking you to break attorney–client privilege, but we are a partnership. If I need you to handle a motion in court, you go for me, and vice versa.”

  The elevator opened, and she stepped in and jabbed the button to their floor. The doors closed, and they rode up in silence, both looking up at the mirror in the top corner of the elevator, where he knew the security camera was.

  He let her step out first and pulled his keys out even though she was already rummaging through her purse. He shoved his key in the door and opened it for her.

  Her blue eyes held his gaze for a second, and he could see without words that she wasn’t going to let it go. She knew something was up, of course. He’d felt it the moment he stepped into her brother’s house, and he hadn’t missed all the looks from her siblings, the way they were all watching their mom and him.

  They were a smart bunch, too smart. He wondered whether they had any idea of the trouble they could all find themselves in if something did hit the fan. He knew well the kinds of things that could happen in the world they lived in.

  He closed the door, and Karen slammed her purse on the kitchen island and turned on him. The fire that filled her eyes, he swore, changed the color to a brighter and deeper blue.

  “What I want to know, Jack, is why my mother was at the office,” she said. “You know, normally I wouldn’t think anything of it, but you texted you were in a meeting with a client and were going to be late, and then Suzanne got a similar text saying that our mom had a meeting. Our mom never has meetings. Then Suzanne said that she and Harold saw Mom going into my office—our office,” she said, correcting herself and then shutting her eyes for a second. When she was angry, she would say things that were sometimes so damn hard to take back.

  He said nothing as he rested his briefcase down on the sofa table and his keys in the oyster dish resting between two lamps. Everything in this condo was hers. She wouldn’t have anything of his. He just angled his head, watching her as she fisted her hands in the air, and he could see how worked up she was getting. He wondered whether she’d scream.

  “Ah, the silent treatment, where you won’t give me anything you don’t want to give,” she said. “It’s not lost on me that the minute you showed up at Ryan’s after my mom got there, you said nothing to me about her dropping by, and she said nothing either, which isn’t like her at all. It also isn’t like her to be so down. She wasn’t her same smiling, happy self, laughing with all of us. So I knew then that something was up.”

  Karen still hadn’t taken off her heels. They weren’t the low, practical, easy-to-walk-in ones. No, Karen always went high with the kind of heels that gave her those gorgeous legs. She looked so damn sexy even when she was ready to kill him, like now.

  “Let me ask you something,” he said, not looking away from her. “Are you keeping things from me, Karen?”

  She pulled back, confused. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I keep things from you? And what does this have to do with my mom?”

  This was dangerous territory, but he was downright pissed that she’d said nothing. Siblings or not, the O’Connells weren’t an exclusive club in which spouses were only guests. If there were secrets, he sure as shit had better know them. “I don’t know, Karen. Why don’t you tell me about the knife Owen hid, and about how Marcus tried to help him dig it up, and about the night your dad disappeared?”

  Her face paled, and her jaw slackened. He crossed his arms but didn’t take a step toward her, and she dragged a hand over her face just as her phone started ringing. She reached for her purse and pulled it out.

  “Don’t answer that,” he said.

  “It’s Marcus,” she replied, then didn’t look at him as she answered. “Marcus, this isn’t a good time… What are you talking about?” Her gaze lifted to his, and her demeanor changed. She rested her hand over her head and pulled it back over her hair, then lifted her palm in the air, a gesture he’d seen from her a time or two when she was trying to make a point. “Okay, listen to me,” she said. “You did the right thing. Have they called you in? Did they ask you to leave? What is going on? Oh, for fuck’s sake. Yes, go home. Look, I’ll be right over.” Then she hung up, and he felt, not for the first time, that her family came first and he came second.

  “So you know about what happened,” she said. “Who told you?”

  What could he say? Nothing, so he gestured with his chin to the phone she was still squeezing in her hand. “What was that about?” he said. Yeah, he still wasn’t about to come clean. He took a step toward her, and a little bit of the fight that had been in her moments earlier was now gone.

  “Remains were found out at Lionel Shepard’s. No ID, but it seems you’re not the only one who knows about the knife. So does the DA, and he’s questioning Marcus right now. They’re putting two and two together. Even though there’s no ID on the body, and only an approximation of the cause of death, they can determine from marks on the bones that there was a knife wound. The DA asked Marcus to leave the scene, and he wants to see him in his office. He’s calling in the sheriff from the county over.”

  Then she did something he didn’t expect. She pressed her hands over her face and started crying.

  It took him only two steps to reach her and pull her against him, taking in how well she fit in his arms. She was a noisy sobber, and he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, holding her so tight.

  “Well, it seems you O’Connells really painted yourselves into a corner,” he said. “Just so you know, you can’t handle this case, any of it.”

  She stepped back, her mascara running. She swiped at her eyes. “Of course I can. He’s my brother, and they have no evidence. It’s just a body…”

  “You mean a body in the woods with no ID,” Jack said. “They can spin this into a crime that none of you know for sure even happened.”

  She angled her head. “You know something, don’t you?”

  He pulled in a breath and took her in. “Yeah, I do, because your mom came to see me, scared shitless, from what I can figure. It was just a feeling she had that everything she thought had been buried and forgotten long ago was resurfacing. She’s afraid of something happening. What, she didn’t know for sure. Now, with a body being found, and after hearing from her about the night your dad left… She told me you knew about the knife, the blood, and Owen burying it, and you said nothing to me.”

  She had a way of not cowering, just something else he loved about her. He reached for his keys.

  “What are you doing?” she said, pulling her fingers under her eyes to wipe away the tears and smudges of mascara.

  “Time to go see your brother,” he said. “He called you, but guess what? It’s not you he’ll be getting.”

  Chapter Six

  Something about spending time with her grandchildren filled Iris with a joy she hadn’t felt even with her own kids, even though she loved them dearly. Raising six kids while neck deep in stress and worry, feeling as if the entire world were against her, she’d never allowed herself time to enjoy the special little moments with her kids, all those times she wished she could go back and redo.

  But that was something she wasn’t about to admit to anyone. As she carried a slice of chocolate cake wrapped with plastic from Ryan and Jenny’s, Eva was holding her hand. Beside her, Charlotte was looking more tired than usual, not yet in her third trimester.

  “You know I can stay for a bit, Charlotte, if you want to go and take a bath or relax,” Iris said. “Since I didn’t get any hang-out time today with Eva…” She glanced down at the little girl, who was now officially Marcus and Charlotte’s, legally. Eva smiled up to her and skipped along beside her as they crossed the street.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Charlotte said. “And I appreciate you carrying that piece of cake, but
I could easily have done it.”

  “Nonsense,” Iris said. “I’ll tuck Eva in, read her a couple stories, and you can have some downtime. I remember how it was, being pregnant, especially when you have little ones running around. There’s a point where you’re just so damn tired you can’t think straight.”

  She followed Charlotte up the front steps and waited while she unlocked the door, then followed her inside, taking in the basket of unfolded laundry in the living room and the sound of a car pulling up outside.

  She turned in the doorway and took in the sheriff’s cruiser. “Marcus is home,” she said, taking in her son as he got out of the car. She didn’t know what it was, but something in the way he moved and looked around as he closed the door reminded her of a time when he was young and had lost his footing.

  “I didn’t expect him this soon,” Charlotte said, stepping around her to the screen door.

  Iris listened to her son coming up the front steps as she continued on into the kitchen with Eva and rested the plate of cake on the island, on which stood a couple of glasses, one with juice, she thought, half full.

  “Should we unwrap it for Marcus now?” Eva asked as she slipped onto the stool.

  Iris could hear Charlotte saying something to him, but as she stepped back to see the front door, she knew something was off about him. He was looking right at her. “You know what, Eva? You go on upstairs for Grandma and get your pajamas on. Come on, scoot.”

  She held Eva’s arm as she climbed off the stool, and as she strode past Marcus, he rested his hand on his adopted daughter’s head and rustled it. She could see that the smile he gave her was forced.

  Something was wrong.

  “Didn’t think you’d be back this soon,” Iris said.

  Over by the stairs, Charlotte was saying something to Eva. Marcus walked past her and over to the sink, where he pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water before leaning back and drinking it. Charlotte strode back into the kitchen, her eyes big, bold, and worried. She tossed Iris an uneasy glance.

  “What happened, Marcus?” she said. “Something did. I know when something is wrong. What happened at Lionel’s? You said there was a body?” She glanced over to Iris, who wondered for a minute whether she should leave, because this was the kind of discussion that was between a husband and wife. But something made her feel she should stay.

  Marcus lifted his gaze over to Charlotte and said nothing for a second, then over to Iris, questioning.

  She knew the look well. “I wonder if I should go and leave you two to talk,” she finally said.

  “No, Mom. Actually, I’m glad you’re here, because I need to talk to you,” he said. “Something happened tonight, and it involves you. Because of it, I need to tell Charlotte about the night Dad disappeared.”

  She thought a strangled sound left her mouth, and he lifted his hand toward her.

  “I know you didn’t want anyone to know,” he said, “but things have taken a turn, and we need to talk about it.”

  She pressed her hand to her chest. Charlotte didn’t say anything, looking up at Marcus before sliding her gaze over to her, her expression shocked. She heard little footsteps on the stairs, and Marcus looked over to his daughter, then to Charlotte.

  “Let me just get Eva to bed,” Charlotte said before reaching over and resting her hand on Iris’s arm.

  Iris wondered whether the sympathy in her expression would still be there when she knew the truth about how she’d screwed up so badly. She found herself needing to sit down, and she pulled out a stool at the island.

  Marcus stepped closer and rested both hands on the counter, his revolver holstered in his duty belt, which she could see under his old hoodie, just something else that unsettled her. For a minute, they listened to the footsteps on the stairs and Eva and Charlotte’s voices, the back and forth.

  “So what happened?” Iris said. “I can tell by your face that something did.” She ran her hand over the laminate countertop and took in how Marcus seemed so unsure and conflicted.

  “There was a body,” he said. “There’s something you don’t know. The woman who saw Owen bury that knife…”

  “Rita Mae,” she said. “Yes, I’m well aware, Marcus, of the threats she implied and how she tried to use what she saw to save her own skin. We’ve established that. What else?” She spoke matter of factly, but she couldn’t shake the sense that her children were unknowingly being dragged into something she’d never meant them to have any part in.

  Marcus nodded. “Yes, but her lawyer added his voice, too. The DA’s office heard, but I thought they were paying it no mind until tonight, at the crime scene at the edge of Lionel’s property, just in the woods. A body was buried there a long time ago. We don’t know who it is, and everything is preliminary, but the DA showed up, and the crime scene techs indicated that the cause of death was likely a knife wound. That could change when they get the remains back to the morgue and do forensics, though,” he said.

  “I mean, we don’t even know who it is or how long it’s been there, but right now, the DA is taking the rumors he heard and the fact that I knew about the evidence Owen concealed, and he’s doing the math. It’s ridiculous, all hearsay, and what’s even more ludicrous is that Tibo brought up the rumors about Dad, about why he left and we never heard from him. He was waiting for me to deny it, but I said nothing. Because we never did hear from him—not a letter, not a phone call, nothing. I heard the rumors, growing up. I remember the cruel things kids said, things they’d overheard from their parents, like that he ran off with another woman, or that he was murdered, and everything in between.” He stopped talking for a second.

  Iris was trying to wrap her head around what she was hearing. “Are you telling me the DA is automatically concluding that the remains you found tonight are those of your murdered father, even though they don’t have any solid information about the date or cause of death? That’s quite a reach, Marcus. I’m no lawyer or cop, but I know that much.”

  She could feel herself lean in, feel the anger surging through her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she knew there had to be more. Marcus just stood there, leaning against the sink, his arms crossed, his hoodie still on, pulled into himself as if trying to figure this out.

  “Come on, Marcus,” she said. “What is this theory of theirs based on?” She shrugged, shaking her head, sitting up straighter, hoping that Charlotte couldn’t hear. Then she realized, in that second, what Marcus was telling her. “It’s all come back on you, hasn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. The DA wants to question me. I was sent home, and he’s called in the sheriff from the county over, yanked my authority away. Harold is still on the scene, and I have no idea where he stands in this. What I do know is I made an enemy out of the DA when I told him I wouldn’t be talking to him without a lawyer.”

  This was worse than she could’ve imagined, and for a second, she wondered whether this was why she’d been so unsettled. She’d never been a sensitive person, but lately, she hadn’t been able to shake her growing unease.

  “I see,” she said. “So Harold knows?”

  He looked away and pulled in a breath. “Yeah, I had to tell him, and you should know that Karen knows, and Ryan too. We couldn’t keep this from them.” He lifted his hand as if she were going to interrupt, and she felt that sinking feeling even though she’d already suspected they all knew. “I’m sorry, but we decided without you. I’ve called Karen, and she’s on her way over, and I need to tell Charlotte, because I know what’s coming next. They’re going to ask me to step back until the coroner can get forensics done and get this cleared up.”

  She wasn’t prone to self-pity, but she felt a world of hurt building in her stomach over what she’d done to her son. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. You shouldn’t be involved in this. If I could go back to that night…” She stopped talking, because she didn’t know how she could have done things differently when Owen walked downstairs and saw everything—the
wrecked office, the destruction, the blood, and her panic.

  “Mom, stop. Once the ID comes back on the body and they figure out that it’s not Raymond O’Connell, a very different conversation is going to be happening. What gets me is how easy it was for them to create a story without all the evidence. Look, I’m just pissed off because of this reach. This is beyond circumstantial, based on rumor, in a way I’ve never seen before. But because of all this and all the talk that’s going to happen in town, this won’t stay secret. Rumors and lies spread, and this will spin a web that will catch a lot of people and ruin a lot of lives. Right now, it’s a knee-jerk reaction, but I can’t help thinking this was done because someone out there is trying to hurt me, you, Owen, our family…

  “After tonight, we need to have a family meeting. We need to tell everyone; otherwise, the blindside could have unforeseen consequences. We need to tell Jenny, Charlotte, Tessa, and Jack, even Alison and Eva. No more secrets. Then there’s the letter, Mom, the one you said Dad left. I never asked about it before, but I need to see it.”

  She heard a car door and had to pull her gaze from her son. Boy, some things he did reminded her so much of Raymond. She heard footsteps, and the door opened, and there were Karen and Jack. She didn’t know why, but having Jack there seemed to help.

  At the same time, there was no way she was letting Marcus see that letter.

  “Karen, Jack,” she said. “Marcus was just filling me in.” She forced herself to slide around on the stool just as Charlotte came downstairs. For the very first time, she felt as if she were the one in the spotlight, with her life being dissected and every choice she’d ever made coming into question.

  “That’s great,” Jack said. “Because before this goes any further, as I told my wife, Marcus, Iris, and Charlotte, there’ve been way too many secrets. I want to be clear with everyone that I’m Iris’s lawyer.”