Killing Secrets (41 page)

Patrick had believed she had her depression under control. Or maybe he’d just been too busy building Thorne Enterprises to notice the signs. He hadn’t known she was upset about the baby until they argued that fateful day. Would she have taken her life if he hadn’t been blindsided and lost his temper? Would she still be here if he’d gone after her, if he’d fought harder for her and their child?

Karly often withdrew from him when she was upset. He’d learned early in their marriage to give her the space she needed. She always came to him when she was ready, and they’d discuss whatever was bothering her, resolve the problem. Not that day.

He waited for the pain of regret and guilt to burn through him. It came, but it was tempered by the knowledge he would never know what she was thinking when she walked out on him. She was gone.

Her secrets aren’t gone.

The thought gave him pause. Karly had never shared her diaries, saying they were her “safety zone”, the one place she could share her worst nightmares, and then return to the real world without them. The day he’d buried her at the edge of the meadow, he’d boxed her belongings and jammed it all in the darkest corner of the cabin eaves. As far as he knew, they were still there.

Last year, he wouldn’t have considered prying into Karly’s diaries. It was too painful. But now? Maybe the diaries would shed some light on her actions that last day, and give him some peace. “Forgive me, Karly,” Patrick murmured, “but I have to know.”

Determined to lay his questions to rest, he left the cemetery and walked back to the two story cabin. As he came around the front, Jack pulled up in his Jeep.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” Patrick said as his brother climbed out of the vehicle.

Tossing his sunglasses on the driver’s seat, he closed the door. “Came to find you. Bring you home.”

“You found me.” He turned his back and located the front door key in one of the rustic flower pots on the porch. “But I’m not going home.” He hefted the key in his palm.

Jack squared his shoulders, a sign he was on a mission and Patrick was about to get his ass kicked if he didn’t cooperate. “Then we talk here.”

Whatever his brother was there to do, Patrick wasn’t interested. Without a word, he opened the cabin door and entered the stuffy main room of the original homestead. Skip must not have stayed overnight when he was here last week, as Patrick suggested, because the place didn’t smell like it had been aired yet this season. Tossing the key on the barn door kitchen table, he walked around the downstairs opening the windows.

Once fresh air billowed all of the curtains, he stopped in the middle of the kitchen and glared at his brother. Jack watched him from the open doorway. Patrick tensed as he asked the one question he knew he shouldn’t. “Are Rachel and Amanda okay?”

“No.”

“Bishop was secure,” he said tightly. “They were safe when I left. What happened?”

“You left.”

“What are you talking about? Are they okay or not?” He realized he was shouting.

Jack closed the door and walked to the kitchen area in one corner of the room. He turned a chair and straddled it like the back rungs would serve as a buffer between them. “Do you love Rachel?

“What?”

“It’s a simple question. Do you love her?”

Patrick dropped into a chair on the other side of the table. The question threatened to make him lose what little control he’d regained on the way up here. Of course, he loved Rachel. That didn’t mean he could have her. Or that he could watch her walk into another man’s arms.

“I thought so.” Jack looked like he wanted to punch Patrick in the nose. “The baby’s yours.”

Patrick stared. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted it to be true…was afraid it was true.

Standing abruptly, he walked to the sink. He ran the water until it cleared, filled a tea kettle, and set it over a flame on the gas stove. Then, he pulled out two mugs and a jar of instant coffee. When there was nothing else for him to do, he stared out the kitchen window at the forest line beyond the meadow. Where Karly was buried. Where his baby boy was buried.

“Talk to me, Patrick.” Jack’s voice was quiet. “What are you afraid of?”

“Failing them. Losing them. Take your pick.” The words were out before he could stop them. He turned. “I messed up so badly with Karly. It would kill me to lose Rachel and Amanda.” And the baby…even if it wasn’t his.

“I knew this was going to come back to Karly.” Jack pinned him under a hard look. “You have to let her go. You can’t know what was in her head. And bro, just for the record, Rachel isn’t Karly.”

“Don’t you think I don’t know that?” The women were polar opposites. Rachel was soft and inviting and giving. She’d sacrifice herself to protect her child. She was strong and independent, and he’d fallen in love with her despite his resolution to stay away. Karly had been weak. Fragile, both emotionally and physically. Karly….

“Well, I don’t have time to sit up here and watch you drink yourself into another stupor.”

He picked up the whistling tea kettle and waved it at his brother. “Does it look like I’m drinking?”

“Not yet.” Jack tilted his head, his no-bullshit expression firmly in place. “Karly’s gone. It’s time you put her to rest.”

Patrick banged the teakettle down on the butcher block and took a moment to control his irritation. Finally, after a count of ten, he nodded. “I know. The truth is, before you drove up, I was on my way upstairs to find Karly’s things. She kept some diaries. I was hoping that if I knew what she was thinking, I’d understand why she did what she did.”

Jack studied him for a full minute. “Want some help?”

“Yeah. I think I do,” he said, the weight on his shoulders lifting. Of all his brothers, Jack was the closest in temperament and understanding. It was one of the reasons he’d tracked him to the cabin last year. Jack had somehow known Patrick needed someone to pull him back to the land of the living.

“Lead the way, runt.” Jack’s descent into the familiar childhood taunt grounded Patrick.

His brother at his back, he took the staircase to the second floor that his great-grandfather had built on to the cabin. A hallway bisected the cabin, with two bedrooms on either side. Bypassing the four small rooms, they went to the end of the hall. He didn’t hesitate until he stood outside the door that led to the storage space under the eaves.

“Are you ready?” Jack stood at his back. Jack always had his back.

Was he ready? Did he truly want to know what Karly was thinking in the days and weeks before her death? They’d been married less than six months and, God knows, they hadn’t been all lightness and love. She’d fought depression for years and it didn’t magically disappear on their wedding day. He’d often felt helpless when she withdrew into herself. She’d cry for hours and there was nothing he could do for her. She’d sent him off to work, saying he had a business to run. He’d accepted the easy way out. He should have been more understanding, spent more time with her when she was having a bad day. He hadn’t been there when she needed him most.

He’d never be ready. “Let’s do it.” His jaw firmed, he opened the door and climbed the stairs into the low storage room under the eaves. Ducking his head, he made his way across the cluttered space to the four medium-sized boxes stacked in one corner. He handed two to Jack, and followed him with the other two down to the kitchen table.

Looking down at what little remained of his wife’s life, he felt the regret swell inside him. He cleared his throat.

Jack looked at him. “You sure you want to do this?”

“It’s just,” he paused, “it’s disconcerting to see how little Karly added to her personal belongings in our time together. It’s almost like she knew she was moving on and had to keep her bags lightly packed. She told me once she didn’t dare stay in one place too long because she was afraid her past would catch up with her.”

“You can’t take responsibility for the life she had before you.”

“I know.” Guilt still banged around inside him, but it forced him to push a couple of boxes across the table to Jack. “Take a look inside those,” he said. “We’re looking for her diaries.”

Patrick opened the box in front of him. It was filled with clothes, some pictures from their courthouse wedding, a pair of shoes, and a book with the first wildflowers she’d pressed between the pages. Jack found more of the same in the box he opened. No journals with Karly’s distinctive scrawl.

“Here’s something,” Jack said. He reached into his second box and pulled out several journals. He handed a couple to Patrick.

They took turns reading whenever they found something of interest. But generally, the books were filled with sketches of places and people Patrick didn’t know. One of the entries mentioned her psychiatrist’s suggestion she put her thoughts and feelings into pictures and tuck them away where they couldn’t hurt her.

Jack read an entry that revealed she’d had suicidal thoughts before Patrick met her. He was suddenly grateful for his brother’s presence. He might not have continued this probe into Karly’s secrets alone.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was of pages being turned. “Whoa,” Jack said. He held up several sketches he’d found folded between the pages. “Some of these are pretty dark and menacing.” He frowned. “It’s hard to believe this is the same woman you married.”

Patrick nodded. “I knew she fought depression, but I had no clue she carried this much pain and despair. It must have been frightening.” Karly also had the sweetest smile and a gentle nature that called out to him. It made him want to curl himself around her to shield her from the harsh realities of the world. That was, if he was honest with himself, the reason he’d married her. He’d wanted to rescue her from the darkness.

How could he have failed so abysmally?

At the bottom of the final box, Patrick uncovered two more diaries. A quick skim told him the first one held entries from the months before their mother invited Karly home with her. He set it on the table with the others, unread, and picked up the last journal. It began the day of their marriage.

I got married today. His name is Patrick and he’s wonderful and beautiful, inside and out. He’s gentle and kind. He never screams at me, like mama did. He doesn’t frighten me like…no, that time is behind me now. That’s why I’m starting this new book. A new name. New life. A new book to keep my good memories.

Her words struck him so hard he had to escape them. Abandoning the diary on the table, he stood and walked away to look out the window. Pages rustled behind Patrick telling him that Jack had pulled the journal to him, but he did nothing to stop his brother from reading about his life with Karly.

Watching the night settle over the meadow, he knew he hadn’t been successful at keeping the darkness from creeping back into Karly’s life. He knew her father abused her until she was nine, when he disappeared from her life. She’d told him the day he didn’t come home from his factory job was the best day in her life. Only when her drunkard mother fell down their apartment stairs a year later, and Karly was removed to foster care, did she begin to heal. It couldn’t have been easy being separated from her brother—Skip was of legal age then—but she said he wasn’t able to provide her the care social services could give her. Then, to lose her college boyfriend?

“Who’s Robby?”

Startled, Patrick turned back to Jack. “She mentions a Robby?”

“Yeah,” he waved the diary. “About a month before she died.”

“I got a letter from Robby today.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name. Maybe an old friend from college?”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t know how he found me here. It’s been three years since I saw him in Memphis. He doesn’t know I’m married now. I’m afraid to tell him about the baby.”

Patrick had been careful not to let his family know about the pregnancy, but his brother didn’t seem surprised when he caught his eye. “You told me last year when you were drunk.” He shrugged. “No one else knows. I figured you’d tell mom and dad when you were ready.”

He swallowed his guilt. He should have told his family. “I didn’t know she was pregnant until a few days before she died.” They’d discussed waiting until he got Thorne Enterprises firmly in the black, but he’d been happy when she told him she was almost three months along. Why would she wait?

“What the hell? Listen to this.”

“I’m scared. I was so careful! I don’t know what he’ll do when he finds out. I’m afraid he’ll kill Patrick.”

“What am I going to do?”

Jack scowled. “This sounds more like paranoia than depression, Patrick. Did you notice any signs her mental state was deteriorating?”

“No. I can’t say she was depressed either. It’s one of the reasons why I was blindsided by what she did.”

“Then who is Robby and why would she think he’d want to kill you?

An icy shudder rippled under Patrick’s skin as Jack flipped through the next couple weeks, looking for more references to the mysterious Robby. “Here. Her final entry, the day she died.”

Robby called yesterday while Patrick was at work. He wants to meet outside the World Trade Center on Broadway this afternoon.

Karly was hit by the bus near that corner!