“Zoe, it’s not your job to take down these places all by yourself.”
Her jaw tightened. “She’s dead, Sam. My source for the D.C. story, she overdosed, and her mother blames me. She wrote me a letter and said I caused her daughter’s death.”
He ran his hands through his hair, sympathy, anguish, and frustration coursing through his veins. “Z, you have to know, that can’t be true. I’m sure her mother was just in a world of pain.”
She crossed her arms. “I still owe it to her and her daughter. I owe it to every girl who’s endured abuse in these facilities. I need to expose the people allowing this, and I need to do it with rock-solid evidence. I’m going, Sam. Like it or not, you have no say in this.”
“Then I’m going with you. I’ll take Cam’s place.”
She gestured to the building. “What about Park Tavern and all your responsibilities here?”
A beat passed then an idea sparked. “Gabe’s back. He can handle running the place.”
She nodded, but she didn’t look happy. The blush on her neck turned scarlet. “So, you want to pretend to be my husband?”
The words struck him like a cannon ball to the gut, and the vise clamped around his heart tightened. “I want to help you uncover the truth.”
She huffed. “The truth.”
“Yeah, friends do that for each other,” he shot back.
“You want my truth, Sam?”
The vise clamped harder.
Those gray-blue eyes captured him. “I have loved you for my entire life. And you’ve known it. All these years, I know you’ve known how I felt.” She took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I thought, having you in my life—even if it was just as a friend—would be enough. But it’s not. I’m not the silly girl satisfied with being your sidekick. And I’m absolutely sure I’m not the woman who’s okay with this charade. I’m tired of pretending, Sam. I’m tired of pretending with you. You want to talk about the truth? You tell me what happened after you left me that morning. You tell me why I had to wake up alone, confused and completely shattered.”
The memories he’d locked away came flooding back, and his body tensed. He held her gaze. “If I tell you the truth, will you let me go with you? Will you let me help you?”
Surprise flashed in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting him to accept her challenge, but she nodded.
“Where’s the facility?” he asked.
“On the outskirts of Garrett County. Not too far from Sadie’s Hollow.”
The vise was back, tightening another fraction. But it didn’t matter. His heart had already imploded in on itself. Zoe was about to learn the truth.
He steadied himself. “You want the truth? Here it is. You’re in luck. I’ll introduce you to my wife. She’s in Garrett.”
11
Wife.
Zoe hadn’t uttered a word since Sam dropped that bombshell. Now she sat in his truck eyes trained on the road. The moments after he told her he had a wife her thoughts had turned fuzzy. He’d gone inside Park Tavern—she assumed to speak with his brother—then they stopped at his place, and he packed a bag. She’d left her car at his bungalow, and after all that, by some miracle of kinesiology and neurology, she’d ended up sitting next to him, headed south toward Garrett.
How could she not know he had a wife? In all their time together over the last five years, she’d never—not for a second—thought he was married. And who the hell was he married to? Who would be okay with their husband living a life somewhere else? Especially apart from Sam, whose kindness and generosity shined like the sun.
Stop it.
Zoe swallowed hard. Maybe Sam Sinclair wasn’t the man she thought he was. Christ on a cracker! She was a journalist. She should know more than anyone what people are capable of doing. The secrets. The lies. The deception. How many stories could she name about a spouse living a secret life? The perfect boyfriend who was also the perfect killer. The traveling businessman with another wife and child a few states over.
But this was Sam.
Sam, who had devoted himself to Ben and Kate.
Sam, who welcomed everyone with open arms.
Sam, who had kissed her as if he wanted to cherish every piece of her soul.
The crush of tire meeting gravel snapped her out of her thoughts. They must be close. She gazed out the window and saw acres and acres of wheat, glowing golden in the late afternoon sun. Garrett was the name of the city, but it was also the name of the county, which included lots of open land and several one stop sign towns in southeastern Kansas. Nowadays, there wasn’t much out here besides agriculture. This area was hit hard years ago when a nearby cement plant went bust, and many folks lost their jobs.
Zoe kept her eyes locked on the scenery. The fall colors were at their peak. Ash trees and oaks flashed brilliant canopies of fiery red with prairie grasses weaving in golds, greens, and browns. Had they been here under different circumstances, the beauty of Kansas during autumn would have lifted her spirits. Memories of days spent kicking layer upon layer of leaves in the park and climbing the long limbs of the oaks to sit hidden amidst the brilliant blanket of foliage should have brought her comfort. Now, she wanted to take each memory, each snapshot of her childhood, and scribble out every instance of Sam’s face. Like an angry teenager armed with the photograph of an ill-fated first love and a ballpoint pen, she wanted to press so hard with each angry stroke that it tore the picture.
Sam continued down the country road, and they passed a dilapidated barn. Once upon a time, this had to have been someone’s farm. Her stomach was in knots. Every beat of her heart brought her closer to a reality she still couldn’t wrap her mind around: Sam had a wife.
Wife.
Again, the word sliced through her.
Sam pulled the truck along the side of the road and brought the vehicle to a halt. He turned to her, his emerald green eyes shined with such profound sadness, she couldn’t stop the thread of compassion that wove itself around her heart. He looked like a man being served his last meal. She wanted to comfort him and kill him all at the same time. She wanted to reach out and cup his cheek in her hand. Her fingertips remembered the tickle of his scruff. All it would take was one touch, and everything would be okay. It would all go back to the way it was.
She reined in her emotions and schooled her features. Had she gotten more than she’d gambled for when she demanded the truth? Looking at Sam, her gut told her the answer was yes.
“We need to walk from here,” he said, voice barely a whisper.
Her stomach twisted into knots. “All right.”
There was a chill in the October air, but the sun was still shining. They walked past the fields and down a dirt path that snaked through the tall grasses toward a small cluster of cottonwood trees, their leaves glowing golden-orange against the big Kansas sky. A small gated area came into view, but no house, no cabin. No sign anyone lived here. She followed a few paces behind him. He was familiar with this place. She could sense it in his step. This wasn’t the first time he’d walked this dusty path.
As they drew closer, the word Henshaw came into view, the capital letters fashioned in metal at the top of the gate.
Sam stopped at the entrance, his posture rigid. “We’re here.”
She looked around. The knots in her belly were gone. Now, anger seethed in her chest. Here? They were nowhere! She was ready to unleash a string of expletives until she looked down. Inside the gate, nearly hidden by the shade of the cottonwoods, flat, polished stones peeked through the tall grass.
This was a cemetery. Most likely, a family burial ground—not uncommon in rural parts.
“This is the Henshaw family’s private cemetery,” Sam said, confirming her presumption.
“Your wife is here? She’s dead?” Zoe blurted out. She couldn’t help it.
Sam didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the gate and led her to a black headstone.
Kara Henshaw Sinclair was carved into the smooth, black granite.
Kara.
An icy chill traveled down Zoe’s spine. That night at Sadie’s Hollow, Gabe had mentioned Sam’s girlfriend’s name was Kara. She took a breath. She wanted to shake the story out of him, but she couldn’t allow her emotions to take over. If she wanted to get the truth, she had to be patient, and she had to be perceptive. She glanced at the dozen or so headstones. Someone had been here. Not all, but a few of the more recent ones had been cleaned off, the wild Kansas grasses weeded away.
Sam stared at the slab. “The morning after we went for a swim in the lake, I woke up because I heard something outside your bedroom window.”
Her pulse thrummed as her body remembered that night, and she forced herself to breathe and to listen.
Treat this like a story. Treat his words as if he was on the record.
Sam glanced up, and she nodded.
“It was my ex-girlfriend, Kara. She was outside banging on my truck. We’d finally broken up. I’d tried breaking up with her so many times before, but the day your family left for Arizona, I thought she’d really understood. I didn’t want to hurt her, but she wasn’t rational. She twisted things in her mind, and…”
“And she was like your mom?” Zoe supplied.
He turned away and nodded. “Yeah.”
“But how did you end up married to her, and how—”
Zoe stopped and stared at the date of Kara Henshaw Sinclair’s death. It was three days after Em was injured at the hollow all those years ago.
Her pulse quickened. “How long were you married?”
“Less than a week.”
Her gaze bounced between the headstone and Sam’s pained face.
He rubbed the scruff of his beard. “She was pregnant.”
Zoe froze, gaze locked on the corner of the stone and the simple, etched image of a mother holding a child.
“When I found you in the hospital parking lot, I wanted to tell you everything, but…”
She met his gaze. “I wouldn’t let you talk.”
The acrid sting of bile coated her throat as her words came rushing back. She’d told him she never wanted to see him again. She told him she hated him. She told him to go back to his girlfriend.
He nodded. “After Kara died, I couldn’t return to my normal life. I dropped out of school. I bounced from place to place, picking up construction jobs, working as a bouncer, trying to escape what I’d done to you, and Kara, and that innocent child.”
Zoe looked down. Her hands were shaking. She clasped them together. “You’re sure the baby was yours?” She had to ask.
Sam stared at the sky. “I think so. At first, I didn’t know how it happened. We always used protection, but then I checked the condoms she’d kept in her purse. In the light of day, I could see they were all dotted with tiny pinholes. I could only assume that she’d done that to the ones we’d used.”
“Oh, Sam,” she whispered as the sharp whine of the old gate hinge cut through the air.
“Is this how you honor your dead wife?”
Zoe spun around toward the gate to find a man in a police officer’s uniform.
She straightened. “Who the hell are you?”
A muscle twitched in the man’s jaw. He appeared a bit older than she was, but not by much, with a sprinkling of gray woven into his dark, closely cropped hair. “I’m Sam’s brother-in-law, Conrad Henshaw.”
She glanced at the brass nameplate pinned above his pocket.
C. Henshaw
The officer looked past her and stared at Sam. “I thought I told you, you’re not welcome here. Do I need to give you another black eye to get my point across?”
Sam met the man’s gaze. “Conrad, it’s been years. I’ve carried the pain of Kara’s death with me as I’m sure you have.”
“That’s rich! Since you’re the reason my baby sister is buried six feet under.” The man crossed his arms. “And what kind of man traipses some slut to his wife’s grave?”
In barely the space of a breath, Sam was nose to nose with the man. “You can say whatever the hell you want about me, Conrad. Another word about the lady, and we’re going to have a problem.”
Zoe put a hand on Sam’s arm. “Let’s all dial it back a notch, boys.”
Sam had several inches on Conrad, but the man held his own. A beat passed, then two before each took a step back.
Conrad slid his gaze from Sam over to her. “And who are you?”
“You don’t have to—” Sam began, but she cut him off.
“I’m Zoe Stein.”
Silence stretched between them. She was ready for the cop to reply, but the man paled, his complexion growing ghostly.
“Is this her? Is she the one?” Conrad asked.
Zoe cocked her head to the side. “The one, what?”
How the hell could Kara’s brother know the first damn thing about her?
Sam nodded.
None of this was making any sense.
“Sam, what is he talking about?”
“My journal,” he answered.
Her gaze bounced between the men. “I need more.”
“Kara and I were married hours after I left you that morning. Her father’s a judge. It all happened quickly.”
“Was a judge,” Conrad interjected. “He’s dead, too. Gone seven years now. But I guess you hadn’t made it to his tombstone, yet?”
Sam released a breath. “Friday night, the night of the party at Sadie’s Hollow, I told Kara I needed to drop off some beer to Michael and my brother, and she insisted on coming along. When my brother mentioned you were there, Kara became agitated when she heard your name. She didn’t like me being friends with other girls, and I knew this could set her off. After we left the hollow and got home—we were living here in a cottage on her father’s property—she went through my car and pulled out my journal. I didn’t think she knew about it, but she did. She must have read it because she was able to put together that Zoe must have been the person named Z I’d written about.”
“What did you write about me?”
Conrad kicked at a clump of earth. “Enough to make my sister jump off a bridge. She spent three days in a coma before both she and her unborn child died. Did your boyfriend tell you all that?”
Sam took a step toward the man. “Conrad, you and I both know that Kara wasn’t well. When I came to the main house and told you she was upset and took off, you were the one who knew where she’d gone. You must have thought…You must have had some idea…”
Conrad’s expression went eerily blank. “You have exactly two minutes to do what you need to do here. One second longer, and I’m arresting you both for trespassing.”
A leaf from the cottonwood floated down through the sun-dappled air in front of her. Zoe watched it until it landed at her feet. When she looked up, Conrad hadn’t moved, and his gaze was locked on her.
Sam came to her side. “I didn’t know about your father, Conrad. I’m very sorry. We’re done here. I apologize for coming on to your land.”
The officer nodded. He held Sam’s gaze but not before giving her one last look. The man straightened his shoulders then turned and left them.
“Sam, I…” she began, but stopped. He’d left her side and knelt to brush a few leaves off Kara’s headstone then stood.
“Not here, Zoe. Not here.” He paused a moment longer before he turned to her. “Let’s go.”
They made their way down the path and back to the truck. Officer Henshaw, parked a good ten yards down the road, remained in his car, watching. Sam followed her to the passenger side and opened the door. She got in, her mind racing.
How had he kept this from everyone?
His brother. His father. His cousin. His closest friends, Ben and Nick. And her. Jesus, she thought she’d had this man figured out. Sure, there were lapses in time that she didn’t know about, but never in her wildest dreams did she think Sam had been married. She went a step further. Had Kara not died, Sam could be a father right now.
The driver’s side
door closed, and Sam put on his seat belt and started the engine. He made a U-turn, and they headed back toward the main road. He didn’t say a word. She wanted to give him some space. She wanted to give him time, but the silence was suffocating. With every minute that ticked by, her breathing became more labored. They were still in the middle of nowhere Garrett County when she banged her fists on the dashboard.
“Stop! Stop the car! Stop it, now!”
Sam’s head whipped her way. “Zoe, what is it?”
Tunnel vision was setting in. “Pull over! I’m not screwing around, Sam!”
The truck roared to a halt, spitting dust and bits of rock as she jumped out of the vehicle and started walking.
“Zoe!”
She’d made it a few paces then braced herself, hands gripping her knees, sucking in breaths of air.
He crouched in front of her. “Just breathe, Z. Do you want to sit?”
She shook her head, gaze trained on a lone sunflower growing at the side of the road, wilted from the cold nights and lack of summer sun, and took slow breaths. Once her full field of vision was restored, she straightened, hands on her hips. Sam stood in front of her, gaze pinned somewhere in the distance behind her.
“Look at me, Sam!”
He released a tight breath but complied.
She steadied herself. “Why did Kara throw herself off a bridge?”
He shifted his stance. “She wasn’t well, Zoe. She was manipulative and controlling and borderline delusional. I didn’t see it when we were in college. But she needed help. I just didn’t know how or what to do back then. And by the time I tried, it was too late.”
Her bottom lip trembled, but she held strong. “That’s not an answer.”
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 117