Marcus was looking at her now, and she wasn’t sure what to think.
Jack continued: “Before anything, there are some things I can’t and won’t talk about, and, Marcus, as I already told Karen, because you’re family, she’s not representing you. Every one of you will be in the spotlight.” Jack took a step closer to her. “I’ll be talking to the DA, because until they have an ID on that body, no one is talking to anyone. So call Ryan, Suzanne, Owen, and Luke. I’ll talk with all of them. Any questions?”
This was the first time she’d ever seen Karen so quiet.
“Yeah, I have a question,” Charlotte said as she stepped into the kitchen, closer to Marcus. She lifted her hand, and Iris could see the confusion on her face as no one said anything. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I think someone had better fill me in as to what this is, because I’m not liking what I’m hearing. Marcus…?”
Here we go, Iris thought, seeing the way Jack exchanged a look with Marcus, who reached over and ran his hand over Charlotte’s arm. She gave everything to her husband, waiting for something.
“No, wait, stop,” Iris said. “This is my story to tell.” She took in Charlotte, seeing her confusion, and shook her head. “Something happened eighteen years ago to the man I loved, the man I married. I believed him to be someone he wasn’t, and in fact, he suddenly turned into a man I didn’t know. My children didn’t know anything, Charlotte, but Marcus has already pointed out to me that this secret is coming out one way or the other. I think we’d better go sit down, and I’ll tell you.”
Charlotte said nothing at first, then glanced to Marcus. “Okay, but I have one question,” she said. “How long have you known, and how bad is it?”
Jack took a step closer to them. “It’s always bad when the law starts focusing an investigation your way,” he said. “And it’s worse when it becomes a witch hunt, when circumstantial evidence can be spun in any direction. Right now, I want to make sure we’re all on the same page. Whatever is said here tonight stays here.”
Iris didn’t know why she held her breath.
Charlotte shrugged and made a face, resting her hand on Marcus’s arm. “Of course, that goes without saying. We’re family. But somebody had better say something, because I’m starting to think some pretty bad thoughts.”
Iris fisted her hands and slipped off the stool, taking in everyone. “Let’s go sit down,” she said, “and I’ll tell you everything I know, everything I remember. But just so you know, at that time, I did the only thing I thought I could.”
Then she stepped away and started into Marcus’s living room, glancing up the empty stairs to where Eva was hopefully asleep. She wondered how long it would be until she learned that her grandmother wasn’t the ideal role model she thought she was, and she didn’t walk on water. That little girl would no longer look up to her like she did now, as if she could do no wrong, and that thought hurt her more than she could’ve admitted to anyone.
Chapter Seven
Jack was standing in the doorway of a house that didn’t belong to him, taking in the darkness outside, except for the streetlights. His wife was walking barefoot to the kitchen with an empty wineglass, and Iris O’Connell stepped over to him. He took in the headlights from a vehicle coming up the street, and the sound of the engine. It had to be Suzanne, or maybe it was Owen. Both were on their way over after the call Karen had made.
“So how bad is this?” Iris said. She wasn’t just his wife’s mother but his family, too, he realized. Never once had she made him feel as if he weren’t a part of this family. She had always had a smile for him, but no one was smiling now.
“You want me to give it to you straight?” he said.
In the living room, Charlotte was sitting on the sofa, with Marcus sitting on the coffee table in front of her. It seemed there was a heart to heart going on. Then there was Jenny. Apart from her initial reaction of surprise, she didn’t seem rattled at all by the news. Why, he didn’t know for sure, but at least he wasn’t having to deal with anyone who could cause problems and make this situation worse than it was.
“That would be appreciated, Jack,” Iris said, sounding unusually calm. She was short like his wife, and he could see how much Karen really did resemble her mom. Iris was holding herself together well, considering whatever had made her come to him earlier that day to begin with now seemed to be unraveling.
“For me to tell any of you not to worry would be ridiculous,” Jack said. “There’s a wolf at the door, banging to come in, and hearing that Tibo Lewis himself was suddenly at a crime scene, taking serious what Rita Mae and her lawyer were saying about Marcus, how he knew about a crime and covered it up, using his position as sheriff to sit on it as if he’s been looking into it all along… I don’t know, Iris. The kind of misconduct they’re talking about doesn’t fly anymore.
“Tibo is obviously wondering whether the accusations could be true, and the unknown body and the preliminary cause of death are confirming his suspicions. A shitstorm is about to land on the doorstep, even if nothing comes of this. It’s going to affect everyone in this family, so we need to make sure everyone’s on the same page and no one talks to anyone, because I guarantee you, by morning, the spotlight will have shone through the community. There’s been an accusation, a bloody knife, but no body until now—and then there’s the note.”
She looked away. Despite everything she’d shared with him, he wondered how much more there was, and he wondered too whether his worst fear would come true and the ID on the body would prove that it was Raymond O’Connell. If so, this family would be ripped apart in a way he didn’t know he’d be able to fix.
“Marcus wants to see the note,” she said, her arms crossed.
Owen’s plumbing van was out front. He had arrived alone, and Suzanne was there too. No Harold, no Tessa. So this would be it for tonight.
“Yeah, well, tomorrow, you need to show me everything,” Jack said. “I’ll come by first thing in the morning. You kept everything of his? Where is the note? Because you didn’t answer me on that, but I’m sure you didn’t toss it. You kept it, didn’t you?”
She swallowed.
He took in Owen and Suzanne outside together. Both appeared upset. Whatever they were saying, he couldn’t hear them.
“Downstairs,” she said. “I had Luke build me some storage shelves. It’s in one of the plastic totes where the Christmas decorations are, old photos, some of the kids’ things that I never threw out.”
Owen and Suzanne were on the steps now, and his wife was still in the kitchen.
“Give me a minute with Karen,” he said, gesturing toward her, then ran his hand over Iris’s shoulder and squeezed gently, feeling how tense she was. “Listen to me, though. I’m not going to say everything’s going to be okay. I won’t say that, but what I can tell you is that whatever happens, I’ve got your back. We’ll deal with it.”
She nodded and then angled her head toward the kitchen. “Go talk to your wife, my daughter. And, Jack…” she started when he turned to walk away.
He said nothing, waiting for her to finish.
She jutted her chin. “Thanks for coming into Karen’s life. I’ve never seen her so happy, in case I didn’t say it.”
Then the front screen door opened, and Owen and Suzanne strode in.
Jack walked into the kitchen, seeing Karen over by the sink with a glass of wine, holding it up and swirling it around. He reached for it and took it from her hands. “This isn’t going to help,” he said, then set it down out of reach on the counter. He opened the cupboard and pulled out a big glass, then filled it with water and handed it to her.
“You’re kidding, right?” she said. “Water?” But, to her credit, she took it and humored him.
He thought she was rattled, and he’d seen this kind of uncertainty in her only two times before, both because of him. “I told you before that you drink too much.”
“I don’t get drunk, Jack. Having a glass or two of wine doesn’t make me a
drinker.” She stared into the glass of water and then lifted it again and took a swallow.
He stood so close to her, taking in the way she pulled in a shallow breath, how the top of her head came up only to his chest. She’d tossed her sweater aside and was standing in just her sundress, which was two shades of blue, a soft stretchy knit that stopped just above her knees. Her breasts moved with each shallow breath she took. He reached for a strand of hair that had fallen free from her ponytail and tucked it behind her ear.
“No, but you have a glass almost every night,” he said. “This thing with your family, I love how close you all are, but I can see it in each of you now. It was something I couldn’t put my finger on before. You’re so close because of what happened, with how your dad was gone and your family as you knew it was suddenly destroyed. You know, with some families, when this kind of thing happens, the family splits, rivalries arise between siblings, and any kind of closeness disappears. They move away and never speak again. But you all seem to have done the opposite and pulled closer.”
She flicked her blue eyes up to him. He could see the confliction there, and her strength, and he wondered whether she’d tell him to go straight to hell or maybe walk into his arms. At times, it was a guessing game with her and her fiery personality.
He slid his hand over her cheek and then her shoulder, her bare arm, as she settled the water on the counter.
“I called Luke, and he answered,” she said. “I told him he needed to come home.” She rested her hands on his chest, splayed out and feeling him. He pulled them down and around his waist as she stepped in closer, her breasts and all that softness pressing into him. He heard the floor squeak behind them, footsteps.
“So you called this meeting. Now what?” Owen said, sounding pissed. He wore a gray hoodie pulled over a blue and white T-shirt, and his blue jeans had a tear at the knee. His dark hair was short but ruffled, as if he’d run his hands through it. “So everyone now knows?”
Karen stepped out of his arms, and Jack leaned back against the counter. Karen was still right there, touching him, and his hands slid around her and held her. “And where is Tessa?” she said.
Everyone was everyone, and from what he’d learned from Iris, he knew that Owen had been the one in the thick of it, the one who had buried the knife, carried the secret, and thought the worst.
“If you’re trying to ask whether she knows, yes, she does. Whether I see her again is another story. She was shocked, angry, furious, likely thinking the worst of me.”
“Owen, I’m so sorry,” Karen said. “Did Tessa really say that to you?”
What was Jack supposed to say?
Suzanne strode in next. “So Harold is working, but you all know that he knows. I tried calling him to see what’s going on with the investigation and why Marcus is in the spotlight, but he said he couldn’t talk about it.” She rested her phone on the counter just as he heard another one ring from the living room, then footsteps outside the front door.
The screen door squeaked and opened, and someone stepped into the house. Owen’s face said everything.
“It’s Tessa,” mouthed Suzanne.
Jack followed Karen and Suzanne behind Owen. The private moment between him and Tessa would be anything but, and Jack took in the distance and the tension.
“You know, Owen, I don’t appreciate you walking out the way you did,” Tessa said. Her hair was hanging long and loose, tucked behind her ears, and he thought her eyes looked a little red and puffy.
She was clearly well aware that they were all listening, and she looked at all of them, then glanced into the living room, where he could see that Marcus had his phone to his ear and his back to them.
“What did you want me to do, considering what you said?” Owen replied. “‘What the hell did you do?’ Weren’t those your words?”
She pressed her lips together and angled her head, glancing over at him and Karen and Suzanne. “I said a lot of things, mainly because I was furious at you for carrying that secret for so long. You said I was likely going to hear something, and you wanted me to hear it from you first. You’re not in trouble, but could you be? I have a right to be angry, and I have some things to say to you, Owen O’Connell, but if you think I would just turn my back on you, then you think very little of me.” She was so matter of fact, something about her that Jack liked.
“So what is this, then?” Owen said.
She took a step toward him, and it seemed everyone was holding their breath. “You overreact and think the worst. I had a right to be angry and a right to express it, which I did. Not once in there did I tell you to get the fuck out, but what did you do but walk out the door?”
Oh, she was mad. He took in Karen and Suzanne, who were still standing there instead of going into the living room and minding their business. It seemed that was the one thing no one did in this family.
“But…” Owen started and took a step forward, his expression confused.
“But nothing,” she said. “You seem to forget we’re in a relationship, you and I. You thought it would be that easy, with you saying you had a secret, something you did, and I wouldn’t react to that? Would you do the same if it were me? Come on, Owen. If the situation were reversed, would you turn your back on me?”
The way she asked, Jack wondered how Owen would reply. He knew it would make or break everything he’d built with Tessa.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” he said. “Why would you even suggest something like that?”
“Because, Owen, you thought so little of me that you automatically assumed the worst about me. I can’t and won’t have that. I love you, Owen, but right now, I’m so angry at you…”
Owen stepped forward and hugged her, and Jack somehow maneuvered Karen into the living room and gestured for Suzanne, too, because they had now crossed the line and were intruding on something between Owen and Tessa. As he turned away, he heard Owen say in a low voice behind him, “I’m sorry, babe. I’m really sorry.”
Jack took in Marcus now, who had hung up his phone. Everyone in the living room was quiet, and he could feel the seconds tick by as if the other shoe were about to drop. Marcus glanced over to Karen, then lifted his gaze to Jack as he held up his phone.
“I’ve been called in,” he said. “First thing in the morning, I’m to get my ass to the DA’s office.”
Here we go, Jack thought.
Marcus ran his hand over his head, taking everyone in, and Jack sensed a vulnerability he’d never seen before. It appeared the man was getting his wings clipped, and who knew what else?
“So, Jack,” Marcus continued, “as you’ve pointed out, Karen can’t represent me, so meet me at eight a.m. in the DA’s office.”
No one said anything as he took in this family, his family. Their secret had suddenly become a family crisis, centering on a crime that may or may not have happened. Everyone in the community would soon learn about it and talk about it, and everyone in this family would soon be tested in ways they never had. He didn’t think they had any idea how bad it was going to get.
How did he prepare these people, and his wife, whom he loved dearly, for something that happened every day across the country and tore entire families apart?
One step at a time.
“Okay, everyone,” he said. “Now it begins.”
Chapter Eight
Marcus sat at a table in the DA’s office, staring at the flag of his country. He took in Tibo Lewis, the DA, who appeared to have had his hair freshly cut for the day. His gray suit was impeccable, very fitting for his mood, and the expression on his face was one Marcus knew well from when he was talking to a defendant.
“I appreciate you coming in today,” Tibo said, gesturing to the spot where Marcus had taken a seat, because he was required to sit.
“As if I had a choice,” he replied. He wasn’t about to cower to this man, wondering what information he was holding on to, but he’d barely slept all night.
“Nevertheless, I’m sure you’re
aware of your rights…”
“My client is here willingly, Tibo, so cut the crap,” Jack said from where he sat next to him. “He’s here to wrap up this witch hunt. But before we start, tell me about the forensics at the crime scene, the ID on the body, the cause of death, and how long it was there. I’m sure you have something, or you wouldn’t have called my client, the sheriff, in. That is the reason you have Marcus here, right?”
This was a powerplay from Tibo, as if he were getting ready for something more. “We’ll know soon, but I’m not implying that Marcus is involved in any way.”
“Yes you are, so cut the crap,” Marcus said, though Jack had told him not to take whatever bait the DA came at him with.
Jack leaned back beside him. Tibo was fishing. It was something Marcus understood well. The lies would come next, with Tibo alluding to some evidence they didn’t actually have just to see his reaction, and it was damn hard not to react, considering how personal this had become. He could find himself, and his family, under a microscope—as he was right now.
Tibo didn’t smile, just made a sound of acknowledgement, as if he’d already convicted Marcus of something. Marcus crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, feeling the weight of his duty belt and knowing he hadn’t yet been stripped of his title of sheriff.
“So tell me about this knife,” Tibo said.
“You need to show us the knife you’re talking about, Tibo,” Jack said. “I’ll remind you again, just to expedite this, my client has nothing to say to that, considering you have no knife. Until you have some evidence to link my client to something, move on.” He circled his hand in the air.
Marcus was still trying to get his head around the scene out at Lionel’s, the body that had been dug up. Considering the decay, he wondered what kind of evidence would even be salvageable after all those years.
“Okay, were you aware of a knife?” Tibo said. “Rita Mae and her lawyer have indicated that evidence was given to your brother, a bloody knife wrapped in a cloth, which she’d seen him bury eighteen years ago. As has been pointed out, your father has never been seen again since. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
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