The Secrets We Keep
Sarah Woods Mystery 17
by
Jennifer L. Jennings
Copyright 2015
Query Publishing LLC
All Rights Reserved
Chapter 1
Saturday, April 9
7:15 a.m.
“Three things cannot stay long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth." – Buddha
As a private investigator for over two years, I have learned one important truth: everyone has secrets.
It doesn't matter how honest you are. It doesn't matter how much money you have. It doesn't even matter how old you are. We all have a secret, and for some people, many.
Some secrets are benign, like the secret crush you had on your best friend's boyfriend in high school.
Some secrets are sinister, like the time you stalked your best friend's boyfriend in high school.
And then there are some secrets that, once revealed, will change your life in a way you never could have imagined.
* * *
When I opened the envelope and read the letter addressed to me, I thought there must be some kind of mistake.
Dear Sarah,
My name is Andrew McCarthy and I'm currently serving a life sentence at the Connecticut Department of Corrections for a crime I did not commit.
I'm sure my name does not sound familiar to you. We have never met. However, I've known you most of my life.
I know that you have a twenty year old son named Brian who attends a music college in Boston. You were married for eighteen years to Daniel, but got divorced two years ago. I also know that you used to be a massage therapist, but the murder of your receptionist prompted you to become a private detective. And now, you live with your partner, Carter Peterson, who used to be a cop in Boston but is also a private detective. You work together solving cases in the town of Bridgeport, New Hampshire.
I know all of these things, because I have been keeping tabs on you since I was fourteen years old, around the time my parents told me I was adopted.
I would like nothing more than to give you the details of how we are related, but it is not my place to do so. All I can say is that I desperately need your help right now. If you are willing to come and visit me, I promise I will explain everything as best I can.
Yours truly,
Andrew McCarthy
P.S. When you tell Sammy that you've received my letter, he'll give you the details of how I ended up in prison.
I must have reread the letter a dozen times. Each time, it still didn't make sense. This Andrew McCarthy must be a distant relative I'd never heard of before.
“Who is the letter from?” Carter asked while we were having our morning coffee on the front porch, listening to the birds chirping in the nearby maple tree. Who cares if it was only fifty-eight degrees? Spring had finally rescued us from a long, dreary winter.
I handed the sheet of paper to Carter as I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck. “You're welcome to read it.”
As he scanned the letter, I observed his tight features. A ruggedly handsome man in his mid-fifties, Carter rarely let his emotions show on his face, but I could tell this letter baffled him.
When he finished reading, he turned to look at me. “You don't have any idea who this guy is, do you?”
I shook my head. “Never heard of any McCarthy's in my family. Maybe they’re on my dad’s side.”
He folded the paper and handed it back. “Well, he certainly seems to know a lot about you.”
“That doesn’t make sense, either, though; he knows Sammy, so they must be related on my mother's side.”
Sammy is my surrogate uncle and was my mother's best friend. They had gone to high school together, dated briefly, and had remained close until her death five years ago. I'm an only child, and since I haven't kept in touch with my distant relatives, Sammy has been the closest thing to family I've had. A pang of guilt pricked at my heart as I tried to recall the last time we spoke. Two months at least. Usually, we don't go a full month without communicating.
I immediately got out my cell phone and dialed his number, hoping he'd be up at this early hour.
“Sarah, darling. It's been a long time. How are you?” The sound of his voice comforted me like a warm blanket.
“Sammy, I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. Life has been crazy.”
“I know it has. How did the move go? You and Carter getting along fine?”
Sammy had no children of his own. He'd always treated me like a daughter and therefore overprotective when it came to my romantic relationships. Carter was the first man in my life that got the full seal of approval.
“Everything is great,” I said. “How about you? Still running the bowling league?”
He chuckled. “Nah, I had to slow down because of the arthritis. Besides that, I'm doing quite swell, thanks for asking.” His tone became inquisitive. “But I have a feeling you didn't call to ask about the bowling league.”
“I received a letter today from someone named Andrew McCarthy who is doing time at the Connecticut Department of Corrections. I've never heard of him before, but he says we're related. What do you know about him?”
A long pause ensued. “Sweetheart, we need to discuss this face to face.”
“Is he a second cousin or something?”
“Tell you what, I just put on a pot of coffee. Why don't you come over?” I could tell he was trying to act nonchalant, but the slight quiver in his voice concerned me.
“Why can't you just tell me on the phone?”
“Because it's complicated, my dear.”
“Why does this guy know so much about me?” I persisted. “It’s a little creepy.”
“Please, Sarah,” he said, calmly. “I know you must have a lot of questions, but I'll explain everything once you get here. Okay?”
Knowing how stubborn Sammy can be, there was no point in wasting time trying to change his mind. “Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I'll be there in twenty minutes.”
Chapter 2
Sammy lived in a retirement home on the West side of Bridgeport called Fairview Estates. There was one male to every six females so, needless to say, he got a fair amount of attention from the opposite sex.
Sammy looked exactly the same as the last time I saw him. Tall and thin, he always wore his favorite knitted vest and khaki trousers. His neatly trimmed goatee tickled my cheek as he leaned in to kiss it.
“Shall we sit outside on the veranda?” He already had the carafe plus two coffee mugs placed on a silver tray. He reminded me of a butler as he carried the tray with the palm of one hand.
The veranda was basically a glorified ledge with a railing and two lawn chairs that overlooked a shuffleboard court. “Won't it be too cold for you?” I asked. “We can stay inside if you like.”
“Nah. I love the fresh air. Been cooped up all winter.”
We had a seat and, as he took his time pouring our coffee mugs, I sensed he was stalling.
“Sammy, what's going on? Why are you acting so nervous?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he batted his eyes at me. “What are you talking about? I'm not nervous.”
He handed me a mug and I took a sip of the coffee. I realized that, whatever Sammy had to tell me, he needed to do it his own way: in his own time. I forced myself to be patient.
“Do you remember when you were about five years old, you came to live with me and Elaine for about six months?”
“Yes, of course. Mom had to go to that nurse’s training school in Washington D.C.”
Sammy pursed his lips, eyes focused on his coffee mug. “That's what she told you but that wasn't what she was doing.” When he lifted his head to look at me, there was something in hi
s eyes that frightened me. Sadness, regret, longing...I couldn't tell. Maybe a combination of all three. “Your mother went away because she was four month’s pregnant.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “Excuse me?”
“The baby wasn't your father's. Your mother never told him that she had a brief affair and got pregnant with another man's baby. So she made up the whole nursing school thing and left town. The baby was born two months premature.”
It felt as though I was having an out of body experience. I couldn't speak let alone breathe. Finally, I got my mouth to work. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Sarah, your mother had a boy and gave him up for adoption. She never even got to see his face but that's the way she wanted it. She didn't want to fall in love with her baby, because she knew she'd never be able to give him up.”
I kept waiting for Sammy to burst out laughing. He was known for his practical jokes - but I could tell this was no joke by the pained expression on his face.
He reached out to touch my hand. “Your mother made me promise to never tell a soul, especially you. I'm sorry, I know this must come as a shock.”
Shocked? Well, that was the understatement of the century and then, like a bolt of lightning, I realized exactly what he was trying to tell me. “Andrew McCarthy is my half-brother?”
He nodded. “Your mother never wanted you to find out she'd cheated on your father but, since she was against abortion, giving your brother up for adoption was the only decision she could live with.”
My hands were trembling and I almost spilled coffee all over myself. Sammy gently took the mug out of my shaky grasp and set it on the side table. “Andrew went to live with a nice couple from Atlanta. Around the time he turned fourteen, his adoptive parents told him the truth but, as per your mother's request, they never told him about his biological mother. Not her name, where she lived, anything. But Andrew is a persistent little bugger. He did his own research and found your mother anyway.”
I tried to push aside my own hurt and put myself in my mother’s shoes. “She must’ve been shocked to hear from him after fourteen years.”
“Yes, however, she never answered any of his letters.”
“You mean, she just ignored him? How could she do that?”
“I think because she felt ashamed. You know how your mother was. She was always extremely hard on herself. So, she gave the letters to me and asked if I would respond. I told her I would; I guess because I understood how the kid must have felt. He wanted to know about his real mother and my heart went out to him.”
“Who is the father?” I asked. My mother was the last person I ever expected to have an affair.
Sammy shook his head and looked away. “She never told me his name but she said he meant nothing to her. A one-night stand. Plus, she didn’t want to disgrace your father.”
“My dad was barely around. I can't believe she'd abandon her own kid to save her marriage. It seemed hardly worth saving.”
My dad was in the Navy, always away at some exotic port halfway around the world. I barely remember him. He died when I was sixteen and all I have left of him are a stack of postcards he'd sent from his travels.
“Your mother had her reasons. Frankly, I think a lot of it had to do with you, Sarah.”
“Me? Are you kidding? I've always wanted a sibling; you know that. I wouldn't have cared what the reason was. I'd have been thrilled to find out I had a brother.”
Sammy just shook his head, glumly. “I'm sorry. I hope you understand why I never said anything. Your mother didn’t want you to know about Andrew.”
Part of me wanted to scream in frustration. After my mom passed, how could Sammy keep this from me? I decided to take a deep breath and let him finish. “So you’ve been in touch with Andrew all these years? He seems to know a lot about me. I suppose you’ve been feeding him that information.”
“Yes,” he said. “He was so enthralled to know he had a sister. He wanted to know everything about you. I sent him a few pictures. A wedding photo of you and Daniel. Baby pictures of Brian.” Sammy reached into his chest pocket and handed me a photo. “I have a picture of Andrew if you want to see it. It was taken about a year ago, I think.”
“Sure, I'd like to see what he looks like.”
Wearing a spiffy polo shirt, his arms were folded across his chest as he leaned against a wall like he was posing. Andrew had the same brown hair color as me, with the same blue eyes. He had a space between his two front teeth, just like my mother.
I had so many questions but the first one that came out of my mouth was, “Why is he in prison?”
Sammy closed his eyes and shook his head. “For killing his girlfriend.”
I looked up, mouth agape. “Are you serious?”
“He didn't do it, Sarah. He was wrongfully accused and now he's going to spend the rest of his life in prison unless someone can prove his innocence.”
“I figured he might have embezzled money or refused to pay taxes, but murder?”
Sammy bowed his head and nodded. “I'll understand if you don't want to get involved. This is a lot for you to process right now.”
“Wait a minute. You told Andrew to write me that letter, didn't you? You've been expecting a call from me about this.”
He didn't even try to hide the sheepish look on his face. “Okay, so I did; but it was better this way. Although you have every right to be upset with me, I wouldn't have done it any differently. Now you have a choice to make and, either way, I will respect whatever you decide to do.”
However, there really was no choice to make. Sammy knew that I wouldn't be able to turn away my own flesh and blood. “How do you even know for sure that he didn't kill his girlfriend?”
“Because he is your mother’s son,” he said, as if that were the only explanation needed.
“Where did this murder take place?”
“At their house in Larksville, Connecticut. On the morning it happened, he went to the gym and then to get coffee. When he got home an hour later, there was blood everywhere and Rachel was gone. He called 911 immediately. Two days later they arrested him for her murder.”
“Where did they find the body?”
“That's just it; they still haven't found her. The amount of blood inside the apartment was enough to declare her dead. According to the blood spatter analysis, she was stabbed repeatedly, a crime of passion. Plus, the shower curtain was missing, so they figured the killer wrapped the body up and disposed of it.”
“Someone must’ve seen a person dragging a body out of the house that morning, right?”
“No, and nobody saw an unfamiliar car parked in the neighborhood either which is all the more reason for them to suspect Andrew.”
The visual of all that blood made me shiver. “Did he have a motive to kill her?”
Sammy mashed his lips together in consternation. After a few seconds, he said, “There was a domestic dispute that happened a few weeks before her death. The neighbor called the police. Nobody was arrested because it was all a misunderstanding. The neighbor had overreacted. This same neighbor testified at Andrew’s trial, making him out to be a woman beater.”
“Were there any other suspects?”
“Yes. Rachel, being a psychiatrist, had a patient who had become obsessed with her. Pablo Catalino had an alibi, though. He’d been arrested the morning before her murder.”
“I had no idea they could convict someone of murder without an actual body,” I said. “What about a murder weapon?”
“No murder weapon was found at the house. They didn’t even find a drop of Rachel’s blood in Andrew’s car to prove that he’d moved the body. If you ask me, his lawyer didn’t do his job. He advised Andrew not to testify, even though he wanted to tell the jurors he was innocent.”
“How do you know so much about the case?” I asked. “Was Andrew in communication with you during all of this?”
“As much as he could. I also went online and read everything availa
ble. It angered me to see how the media crucified him, already assuming he was guilty.”
“I can’t believe you never shared this with me. Maybe I couldn’t have done anything then, but at least you’d have had someone to talk to about it.”
He shook his head in regret. “I almost did, Sarah. Many times but, remember, I wanted to honor your mother’s wishes. It wasn’t until Andrew was convicted that I realized it was wrong to keep the lie going, especially when Andrew needs you now more than ever.”
“Before I decide to do anything, I’d like to meet him in person. I’ll drive to Connecticut tomorrow.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Sammy took my hand and squeezed gently. “Sarah, if you decide to help him, I insist on paying you for your time and expenses.”
It didn’t surprise me that he was willing to help Andrew in this way. He was always lending people money, or doing favors. He had a hard time saying no to anyone. “We'll discuss that later,’ I said. “If I don't think there's a chance that I can help, I won't waste anyone's time or money.”
He nodded. “Okay. I understand.”
“I should go home and discuss this with Carter.”
Sammy followed me back into the apartment. He seemed lost and a little confused about what to say or do next. “No matter what you decide, I'm glad you know the truth now, Sarah. You have no idea how heavy it's been for me to keep this from you.”
He leaned over to give me a hug and, as we embraced, I got this feeling. Light a lightbulb turning on in my brain. I let go of Sammy and stood back to look him in the eyes. “Oh my God!”
“What?” he asked.
“It’s you! You’re Andrew’s father, aren’t you?”
He stood very still but his eyes wandered past me. “What makes you think that?”
“You stayed in touch with him for all these years for a reason - because he’s your son and because you were in love with my mom. I know you two had dated before she met my dad, but you never fell out of love with her. Isn’t that true?”
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