Sonja followed the woman’s gaze out the window. It was only then Sonja noticed a glistening lake beyond the yellow grass.
“But I guarantee you, even though your grandmother was a sight for sore eyes, sort of like yourself, he wasn’t interested in her either. Harlan liked the licentious things in life, the kinds that weren’t free.”
Sonja glanced at Jay and then scooted closer to the edge of her seat. “Earlier, I was told that my gran had an affair with Harlan Duke’s business partner—”
“Cyrus,” the woman said before Sonja could say his name.
“Yes.” She felt a knot form in her throat.
The woman nodded firmly. “That’s correct.”
Sonja felt her soul take a nosedive and recover before slamming into the ground.
The woman shook her head emphatically. “Listen here…” She crossed her legs again. “I reckon if your grandma wanted you to know the truth about Cyrus, she would’ve told you, but you’ve probably already learned more than you should, so I’m just going to tell you it all. Your grandmother had an affair with that man, but not because she wanted to.” She dipped her chin and looked at Sonja with a warning in her eyes. “One look at Lori and that man didn’t want to keep his pet in his pants. He made it to where if she didn’t lay with him, she would lose her job and even that trailer she lived in. Lori had built a home for herself in Midland but”—she shook her head—“he just couldn’t give her any peace.”
“I don’t understand,” Sonja said.
“Cyrus liked to take whatever he wanted, when he wanted, and he didn’t give a damn how he got it.” She turned away. “I can’t prove it, but I know he had something to do with Harlan’s death.”
“But you said he took her?”
The woman faced her again. “Yes. He went to her place whenever he felt like it. Sometimes he’d leave her alone for months. He liked to get rough first.” She dropped her head. “Lori always had bruises.”
Sonja could hardly believe what she was hearing. As a matter of fact, she wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t having a nightmare. “I’m sorry, but are you saying that my grandmother was violently raped?” Just speaking those words made her want to dry heave.
The woman’s eyes softened. “That is what I’m saying, darling.”
Sonja slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Whoa,” Jay said and then rubbed Sonja’s arm consolingly. “Maybe we’ve heard enough for one day.”
“No.” Sonja took a deep breath and sat up straight. “I’m fine. Please continue.”
The woman looked off, shaking her head. “I may have said too much. I’m sure Lori didn’t want to tell you because she was ashamed of what he did to her, especially when she became pregnant. Lori always believed it was her fault.”
“But it wasn’t,” Sonja said.
“Of course it wasn’t, darling.” She faced Sonja. “But Cyrus paid her to leave town. The next I heard, she’d taken up with a lawyer, bought a lot of property, and was doing pretty well for herself.” She said it as if her grandmother’s success was some sort of consolation.
Sonja was too angry and hurt to reply.
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to Ms. Hester?” Jay asked.
The woman’s face tightened, then she pursed her lips to form a fake smile. “I haven’t seen Lori in years.”
Jay narrowed his eyes. “What about when you spoke to her?”
“A few times.” She glared at him as though daring him to ask another question.
“But I wonder”—Jay leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs—“about Cyrus’s wife. Did she ever find out what happened to Lorraine?"
The woman rubbed the side of her face. “Everybody knew.”
“Oh and another thing.” Jay sat upright. “Are you Dora Duke? We saw a picture of her earlier. Shave twenty years off and you look just like the beautiful woman in that picture.”
She grunted then smirked. “You’re very charming, Mr. West. I suppose it’s a trait you honed in Hollywood. I haven’t worked at my diner in forty-five years.”
Sonja tried to remember the face of the other woman in the photo with her grandmother, but she couldn’t. She was thankful Jay did though, and she sat on the edge of her seat as he maintained his steady and expectant grin.
“Then you are Dora Duke?” he asked.
The woman pursed her lips as though she had to think about her answer. “I go by Dora Watkins these days.”
Sonja couldn’t stop shaking her head, mainly because the moment was too unreal to be true.
Now that the cat was out the bag, Dora shared more photos with them. They stayed for at least an hour, listening to Dora’s tales. She showed them Harlan’s first oil pump and photos of the young women who’d worked at Drillers. They had a lot of Christmas parties and New Year’s celebrations, birthday parties, and just friendly moments in general. Sonja searched for Ms. Jenkins’s face in each snapshot, but she wasn’t there.
Sonja was about to ask Dora if she’d ever heard of Betty Jenkins when Dora pulled one of the last photos in the box and held it close to her face. “Now this here is Cyrus and his first wife, Hazel.”
She set the photo on the coffee table, which already had a sea of pictures displayed on it. Sonja recognized Hazel right away. Sure, her face was plumper and eyes, though sad, were brighter, but it was the cat herder herself, Ms. Jenkins.
Sonja stabbed her finger on Hazel’s chest. “I know her. She’s Betty Jenkins.”
“No, darling, that’s Cyrus’ first wife, Hazel.” Dora sounded a bit confused.
Sonja closed and opened her eyes several times, then she explained to Dora how Hazel was living at an apartment complex her grandmother owned in LA. She told her how her grandmother was paying all of Ms. Jenkins’s bills and now she might know why. Dora listened attentively as Sonja tacked on the part about the screenplay she had written, and how the characters were based on her grandmother and Ms. Jenkins. The surreal part was that she’d thought she’d made up the story, but the more she learned during her Midland trip, the more she was realizing that she had guessed the truth.
“Well, that’s mighty interesting.” Dora then told them how in 1999, Hazel had finally left Cyrus, but not before trying to point suspicion in his direction for Harlan’s death. “I always suspected it was Hazel who sent the bottle of cyanide to the police with a note asking them to check it for Cyrus’s fingerprints and then exhume Harlan’s body and examine it for poisoning.”
“But do you believe Harlan was poisoned?” Jay asked.
Dora seemed to sink deeper into the sofa. “I didn’t. Until Cyrus bought Harlan’s interest from me and sold everything to the Clark Brothers.”
“Francis showed us pictures of those guys,” Jay said.
“Well, they were two vicious jokers. They were after Harlan’s business the second he struck oil.”
“I take it they didn’t find poison in Harlan Duke’s body?” Jay said.
Dora sat silently with a grave expression. “No.” She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them. “Harlan’s coffin was empty. It seems as though Cyrus was way ahead of all of us.” The anguish on her face gave way to a slight smile. “But Hazel waited the old bastard out.”
She told them how after Cyrus sold everything to Harlan’s rivals, he spent his days drinking and sleeping with prostitutes. When Hazel finally left him, it was forty years later and she took all the money he had left, and no one had seen her since.
Sonja slapped her hand over her heart as she turned to Jay. He shook his head, apparently knowing exactly what that look on her face meant. They had identified the part of the screenplay that alarmed her grandmother. In the story, Ida Lawry stole every cent her husband had before disappearing and showing up in the life of self-made billionaire, Rose Ready. The two women were from the same town, and Ida threatened to reveal Rose’s darkest secret, which was that she’d murdered her husband, though not so she could claim his
wealth. Rose had killed him because he was abusive. Sonja couldn’t believe it. Even though the pieces fell in different parts of the true story, they were all there in Pact of Lies.
Chapter 15
Shortly after they tied all the pieces together, Sonja and Jay excused themselves. Dora revealed one last thing before they left. Francis, the museum manager, was her daughter-in-law. Paul, Dora’s son, had actually been burning trash in Dora’s backyard when his wife called to tell him about her visit from Jay West, the actor, and Lorraine Hester’s granddaughter. Apparently the only reason Francis had agreed to talk to them was because they had recently been approached by a producer about making a movie about Harlan Duke, focusing on his short life as an oil tycoon. She’d figured Jay West had been offered the role and was there to do some personal research. However, Francis knew she had it all wrong after Sonja revealed she was Lorraine Hester’s granddaughter.
Dora’s son, Paul, immediately told Dora what had happened, and she asked Francis to send Sonja and Jay to her house. Since it had been revealed to them that Lorraine was Cyrus’s “mistress,” Dora felt she owed them the truth. She didn’t want Sonja to believe that her grandmother was a harlot.
Dora said one more thing before she and Jay got back into their car. “I didn’t know Hazel was with your grandmother. I’m going to keep that to myself, but Lorraine should know that I know.”
And that was all Dora had to say on the matter.
Sonja and Jay were silent as they drove back to the rental house. It was only a quarter after seven and still light out. So many thoughts were bumping around Sonja’s mind, but one thing was very clear to her.
She turned to Jay, who was peering straight ahead. “Jay?”
He glanced at her then took her hand. “What is it?”
“We’re going to have to change the story or scrap the project.”
Jay sighed thoughtfully. “I know. We have the rest of this weekend and Monday at least to switch the elements of the story around and present a new screenplay to Vince.” He glanced at her. “Do you want to run that race?”
Sonja groaned because she was confused. Did she? “I don’t know.”
“Well, it’s your choice. Don’t do it for me. Do it for you.” He squeezed her hand tighter, which let her know that whatever she decided, he wouldn’t abandon her.
She asked if she could close her eyes and think for a while. Jay had no problem giving her mental space.
Something was happening inside her. Sonja was sure now more than ever that she wanted to write stories. But she had lost the desire to rummage through her grandmother’s life. The truth had set her free, and now she was at a different point in existence. What was happening to her was strange. She wanted to go to Canada. She wanted to expand her horizons.
Sonja opened her eyes and turned toward Jay. “I want to do it. Let’s do it.”
“Rewrite the story?”
“Yes.”
He cracked a satisfied smirk. “I was hoping you would say that.”
They decided that Jay’s house would be a better place to shut themselves in and create for the next forty-eight hours, so he scheduled a charter flight to take them back to LA. With nonstop movement, they made it back to the rental house, packed their things and went straight to the airport. While they waited for takeoff, Jay called Dexter to let him know their plans to write a major revision to the story. Dexter welcomed the changes by saying he was always up for a new challenge.
Sonja sent a text to Robin, asking her to meet them for breakfast at Jay’s in the morning so that she could catch her up on what happened in Midland. Before the pilot announced they were next in line to charge down the runway, Robin texted back, Okay. Send address. Sonja had enough time to forward her the same text Jay sent her on yesterday with his address.
On this flight, Jay sat beside her instead of across from her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She was so drained that all she wanted to do was sleep, but Jay reminded her that she should eat something first. The last meal she’d had was breakfast, and not since boarding the plane had she had any water.
Sonja was also relieved to have two nicer flight attendants, ones who didn’t try to secretly or overtly flirt with Jay. Right away, they served dinner, starting with roasted butternut squash soup. As the main course, they had port-braised lamb shanks on top of a fluffy bed of mashed potatoes, along with garlic-and-sherry-vinegar string beans. Their final course was a dessert tray of tarts, vanilla cream desserts, tiramisu, éclairs, berry bowls, and mini cheesecakes.
Sonja and Jay were so hungry that the only talking they did during the meal was moaning about how good all the food tasted. And when their bellies were full, the stewardesses dimmed the cabin lights. Instead of joining the Mile High Club, Sonja fell asleep in Jay’s arms.
The four-hour flight went by so fast that it felt as if they had just closed their eyes when it was time to wake up. The small amount of shut-eye made Sonja feel slightly better, but once they got back to Jay’s place, they found Robin in the living room, sitting on the sofa across from Dexter.
“Robin?” Sonja said, her surprise obvious in her tone.
“Gran called me. She saw this.” Robin displayed the face of her smartphone for Sonja to see.
Sonja had to blink her tired eyes to bring the screen in focus.
“Shit,” Jay muttered.
Someone had snapped a photo of them pushing their way through the crowd at the museum.
Sonja’s stomach tied in knots. “Gran saw that?”
Robin pressed her lips in a hard line as she nodded. “And there are a lot more.” She turned to Jay. “You’re way too photogenic for your own good.”
He chortled tiredly.
“Um…” Dexter cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you both back.”
Sonja looked at him and could clearly see that he had been rattled by Robin’s unique beauty. The red in Dexter’s undertone was on fire and his eyes were gleaming. Robin usually had that effect on men.
“We should go somewhere and talk,” Sonja said.
Robin couldn’t stop herself from grunting when Jay put his arm around Sonja, kissed her, and said they could take the living room. He and Dexter went to the den, which was down a hallway to the left and around the corner.
“Are you and Jay a couple?” Robin asked once they were alone.
Sonja folded her arms. “Yes.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Isn’t he with Plume Ashbury?”
“Not for real. I mean, it’s a fake Hollywood relationship.”
Robin also folded her arms as she cocked her head to the side. “Are you sure?”
Sonja felt her frown intensify. “Why? Have you heard something?”
Robin wiggled her head. “No, but Jay is a notorious party boy.”
“He’s different.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“And that’s enough for you?”
Sonja closed her eyes and shook her hands vigorously. “Robbie. Please stop.” She opened her eyes. “Didn’t you come here to talk about Gran?”
Robin studied her for a moment then sighed as she released the tension from her body. “Let’s sit.”
They moved to the sofa and sat next to each other.
“So, yeah, Gran knows you’ve been in Midland.” She sighed as her eyes widened. “And she’s pissed.”
“I found out a lot about her but…” Sonja closed her eyes and shook her head. “I wasn’t going to tell her what I know.”
“Well, what do you know?”
Sonja started from the beginning. Robin had also heard their grandmother spout the same false version of the past she had told Sonja. She told Robin about the rape and even who Ms. Jenkins really was.
“Ah,” Robin said gravely. “It sounds like your script nearly hit the nail on the head.”
Sonja swallowed and nodded. “So how mad was Gran when you talked to her?”
“From a scale of one to pissed? P
issed.”
Sonja grimaced. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell her that I know the truth.”
“That’s pretty patronizing of you.”
“How so?” She was frowning so intensely that her skull ached.
“You chose to go poking your nose in Gran’s past. And I get it,” Robin said, throwing her hands up. “Gran sort of had it coming. I mean, she told you to figure out a solution.” She scoffed. “She should’ve guessed you were going to do just that.”
Sonja’s headache got so bad that she rubbed her temples. “Listen, you’re going to have to be direct with me. I have no idea what the hell you’re saying.” She dropped her hands from her head and squared her shoulders. “Why do you think I need to tell Gran?”
“Because you know her lies. Are you really going to sit there and look in Gran’s face and not say anything, knowing what you know?”
Sonja braced herself. “Did you hear what I told you?” Her voice cracked.
Robin rubbed Sonja’s thigh consolingly. “Yes, Son, and I know it’s hard.” She sighed. “And hell, if I were in your shoes…”
“But you kind of are in my shoes because I told you everything.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” Robin said, shaking her head. “Don’t put this on me. This is your shithole. You dug it. Now fill it.”
She wanted to choke Robin for speaking in riddles again. If only her cousin wasn’t right. There was no way she could look her grandmother in the face and pretend she didn’t know everything. Although she needed no explanation from Gran. After what Gran had endured, she had the right to revise her history.
“You’re right,” Sonja finally said.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while.
“So who is Dexter Frampton?” Robin asked.
Sonja jerked her head back in shock. “Are you asking about Dexter because you’re interested?”
Robin rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”
“No, he’s beautiful, isn’t he?”
Robin shrugged.
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