Second Nature (15 page)

Everyone but you

I carried the tray of
food to the end of the west hall, checking to see if anyone was there before I
put it down and unlocked the door. I struggled to get it inside, scowling when
he didn't help me as I crested the stairs with the tray. Ashton’s eyes didn't
even lift from the laptop he was holding and typing on like a madman. I smiled
when I saw the dungeon he was in. It was the first one I ever found to be hard,
Scholomance.

“How’s it going?” I
laughed as his tank’s health started to drop below fifty percent.

“Great.” He growled. “But
if that priest doesn't up his heals we are all going to die.”

“Maybe he’s cool with you
getting low. Everyone does it differently. I don't like to let my tank get low,
but I can burn through the mana if I’m not careful.”

“His mana is always low.”

“You can heal yourself.”
I rolled my eyes. “He mustn’t have good gear. Did you check everyone before you
started the instance?”

“No?” He furrowed his
brow and hazarded a look at me. “You never told me that.”

“If you inspect
them—” I waved a hand as I put down the tray. “I’ll tell you later,
finish this. You’re almost done. Be glad this isn’t the vanilla version with
the trash mobs.”

“I love it when you talk
dirty to me.” He grinned, making my heart stop. When it started again it was
pounding savagely.

I
flumped onto the air mattress and watched as he played it out from my grandma’s
old armchair.
I tried lying a couple of different ways, as if to appear cool and
calm.

As it ended everyone
chirped the healer, as they always did, and Ashton turned and smiled wide.
“How’s it going?” He looked clearer in the eyes and the smile was real. It was
nothing like the look in his eyes from before. He was light again.

“Pretty good.”

He lifted the sandwich to
his lips and took a bite. “I know that expression. What’s going on?”

“We found out something
weird and now we’re stuck on what it all means.”

“Okay.” He chewed and
waited for the rest of the story. Watching him chew was a highlight of mine
that I liked to recall. There was a reason I chose sandwiches with thick, chewy
bread. The ecstasy of it lasted forever. “What is it?”

“Rachel’s mom had
Vincent’s mom put in Silver Hills. I think it was a long time ago, when we were
kids. Before she ran away. Now Mrs. Henning and Rachel’s mom are both there. We
went to visit them and Mrs. Swanson’s a mess. She’s a hot mess.”

His eyes narrowed.
“They’ve been through an ordeal, Lain. Going to the hospital isn’t out of the
ordinary in a case like this. And Vince’s mom was a hot mess too. She was sick
when he was a kid, a lot. His dad covered for her, always saying she was away
but sometimes she was home. She was in bed or whatever.” He brushed it off and
chewed. “And for the record, going to a mental ward after some piece of shit
kills your kid or your husband seems legit.”

“I’m not judging Rachel’s
mom. Or Andrew’s.” I shook my head. “But Vincent doesn't know that his mom was
there. I saw his face when we brought it up.”

“No. He might not. He’s
never talked about it with me, but I know I heard my mom discussing it with my
dad when I was a kid.
Me and Vince
were like eight.
Anyway, my mom had seen Vincent’s mom at the house one day when his dad tried
to say she was in Florence. Dad laughed and told her not to worry about it,
saying Vincent’s mom was getting chronically sicker. The way he laughed was
weird. He made that motion with his hands like she was drinking all the time or
something.”

“Oh God. Poor Vincent.” I
winced. “She was an addict?”

“I think she might have
been. The guy she married was at Silver Hills too. He was a doctor. They ran
away together.”

“She left her kid for a
guy.” I shook my head. “I can’t imagine a mom leaving their kid for a man.”

“I think she might have
had some mental issues, Lain. Maybe not the worst thing, having her away from
Vince.” He took another bite and moaned. “I didn't realize I was so hungry.”

Watching him eat I didn’t
notice I was either. My stomach growled into the airbed.

“So you think this has
something to do with the killer?”

“Yes.” I hated that I was
saying it out loud. “We think it might be Vincent’s mom.”

He cocked an eyebrow and
paused holding his sandwich and his tongue as he contemplated.

“We just think maybe she
hates Rachel’s mom enough to do this to her. And maybe she has reasons to want
the rest of our parents to suffer.”

“That's crazy, but I
can’t say it isn’t possible. I don't know his mom.” He lifted the sweet tea I
had brought him and drank, licking his lips. It was hard not to stare. His
chiseled jaw clenched when he finished swallowing. “As far as I’m concerned,
everyone but you is on the list of possible people.”

“Why not me?”

He smiled wide. “There’s
no way.
Too nice, too innocent, too nerdy.
You are not
the sort of girl who would hurt anyone. You can’t even put a worm on a hook.”
His face lightened again as he laughed. “You remember that time we all went
fishing on that stream and you were freeing the worms by dumping them into the
water?”

My shoulders slumped as I
covered my face. “I didn't know worms would drown.”

He laughed, holding his
drink as it wobbled and almost spilled. I giggled, even if I was filled with
shame for drowning the poor worms. I couldn't stop.

His chuckle changed to a
giggle as he tried to continue speaking but lost the ability to make sound,
“And-and—your da—”

I laughed harder too as
his near words made me recall the way my dad had shouted at me while Ashton’s
dad laughed.

Ashton waved his hand and
laughed harder as the memory of my father’s disappointed stare killed off my
humor.

He sighed after a moment
and nodded. “That was a fun day. I don't think we ever went fishing again.”

“Not with us. My dad said
I wasn't allowed to come.”

“Yeah, he brought that
little Michael kid a few times. But you and Mazy never came again.” He stopped
and gave me a look. His dark-blue eyes filled with regret. “I didn't
mean—”

“It’s fine. I know.” I
cut him off, standing up from the bed. “I better go.” I turned and hurried to
the stairs. “I’ll see you later. Message me on the laptop if you need anything
else or have to use the bathroom.”

“Lain, wait!” he shouted
after me, but I closed the door and locked it, leaving him in there.

My breath shook as my
eyes welled with tears. The hurt inside me was more profound than I was giving
it credit.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean
to say that. I would never hurt you. Not on purpose.”
His
voice was muffled by the door
. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought.”

I nodded, but I didn't
say anything. What could I say? I leaned against the door and let silent tears
wash from my eyes. They were caused by so many more things than they should
have been. It took a momentary mental breakdown to realize my plate was full.

Something had to leave
it.

I got up and walked down
the hallway to my room.

I knew exactly what I
could solve and what I couldn't, and I knew
who
I
needed to see to fix at least some of the issues.

Pills and potions and test tube babies, oh my!

Judith’s house looked the
same as before. I hadn’t been here in ages. It was small and not nearly as
fancy as ours. She had worked in Crimson Cove since the beginning, a friend of
my mother and father’s who my mom thought she could help. I had always seen her
as a bit of a failure. She had stayed single, had a kid alone, and only had a
job because my mom had made my dad give it to her. Her family even cut her off
when she refused to marry the man they had asked her to. So my family sort of
adopted her, along with her son she had with a man she had never named.

Now, obviously things
looked a bit different.

I tapped my finger on the
steering wheel and stared at the house from the driver’s seat in her driveway
while I contemplated going in.

My father’s Porsche was
next to her SUV so I knew he was here. He was actually home on a holiday.
Something he hadn’t ever done for us.

It dawned on me that
maybe that was because he was always here.

Hatred and disgust fueled
me, but I forced myself from the car and demanded I remain icy cool. I didn't
need to attack him the way my mom had. I needed something else from him.

He opened the front door
before I got halfway across the driveway, stepping out of the house instead of
inviting me in. He looked different, casual and relaxed. His face looked
younger. He was the opposite of Mom. She looked old and tired, worn and bitter.

He was happy. That much
was obvious.

“Lainey, is everything
okay?”

“No.” I shook my head.

He swallowed hard,
stepping forward. “What’s wrong?”

“I need answers from you,
and you will give them to me or I will give an interview to
TMZ
and the others.”

“What?” He paled,
stepping back as shock set in. “Now, you listen here, young lady—”

“Yes, it’s true my father
keeps keys to all the houses he sells. He has snooped in them after they were
sold. I don't know why he does it, but it’s very strange. Yes, he’s been
screwing my mom’s best friend since I was at least four. Her son is five years
younger than I am, the same age as my little sister, and I know that he is my
father’s child. He is the only child my father truly loves.”

“Lainey, you know that's
not true.”

“Things don't have to be
true, Dad. They just have to be believed.”

His face lost all of its color.
He didn't turn red or look angry. He looked worried, like he had the night we
found Rachel. “What do you want to know?”

“Who is Hendricks the
cleaner?”

His blue eyes, the very
same ones I had, widened. “Wh-what? Who?”

Turning, I walked back to
my car. “Fine. Have it your way.”

“Wait!” he growled.
“Let’s take a walk to the beach.” He offered a defeated look and a hand.

I gave it a second of
thought before I followed him, not taking his hand.

“Hendricks is an old
college friend from New York. He went to Princeton with Bueller and me. When we
left school, our graduating class all entered our different
fields—finance, business, law school, and whatever else our families
wanted us to do. My father made me go into real estate to help with your mother’s
family’s land development deals. My family didn't have the lineage hers did,
and my father demanded I marry her. We all just did what we were told. But not
Hendricks—he—he didn't do what his family wanted. Instead, he took
a job for an Irish family in Boston.”

“The mafia?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “He’s
a smart guy, studied law but never wrote the bar. He knew the ins and outs of
the system. He eventually moved to New York and started his own consultation
firm. He runs a front operation so he pays taxes on his income and doesn't
upset the powers that be.”

“Why did you hire him?”

“He’s a friend.” He
dodged my question.

“You know what I mean.”

He sighed. “Lainey, there
are things I cannot ever tell you because they are not my story to tell.” He
looked scared, truly scared. “But rest assured, whatever happened in the past
with Hendricks, it’s buried deep. So if you feel the need to ruin me for
leaving your mother, then so be it. But that is as far as I can go into detail
on my friendship with him.”

It hurt me when he said
it that way. It forced me to see that I couldn’t hurt him for leaving my mom. I
was just angry. I wanted to hate him, but he was still my dad and hate was a
tough one for me. “I’ll drop it if you tell me about Vincent’s mom.”

He turned and gave me a
look. “Marianna? I haven’t seen or heard from her in ages. She’s in Switzerland
now, right? Summers in France and winters in the Alps.”

“She was in Silver Hills
before, why?”

A weak smile that was far
more like a cringe crept across his lips. “She had a bit of a problem.”

“Dad, I need to know. I
think it has something to do with this summer.”

“Oh shit.” He gulped, his
smile vanishing. “Sorry. Are you being serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't say yeah—you
know how your mother feels about it.”

I rolled my eyes. “You
say it all the time.”

“She hates me.”

“That's true.” My words
became a
whisper,
losing the humor they had a second
before.

“We were forced to marry,
Lainey. We made the best of a bad situat—”

“Dad! Vincent’s mom.”

His cheeks flushed and he
lowered his gaze. “Marianna was always a bit of a drunk. She too wanted out of
her arranged marriage. Theirs was worse than any of ours though. They couldn't
get pregnant and Grant blamed Marianna. She was devastated. She started all
sorts of hormone therapies. They made her gain weight and lose her hair and
everything else. If there was a side effect, Marianna had it. Your mother spent
a lot of time over there, consoling her.” He glanced down. “The rest of the
story isn’t mine to tell.”

“Dad. I need to know. I
need this. The police are starting to investigate
me and my
friends as suspects for the murder
. If we don't have some answers we
might see some blame, if not all of it. And you and Mr. Bueller will not be off
the hook. Those threatening messages you sent Mr. Henning, those will catch up
with you.”

He took a deep breath and
closed his eyes. “Even after two years had passed and they still weren’t
pregnant, Grant refused to get tested to see if the fault lay with him. Marianna
had him tested in secret. She discovered he was shooting blanks. So she did the
only thing she could think of. She got his best friend to impregnate her so he
wouldn't know.”

“Oh God. Rachel’s dad and
Vincent’s mom?” Real son? The spelling mistake in the text that I’d mocked, had
it been a clue? Vincent wasn't his dad’s real son.

He nodded, shaking his
head. “It was meant to be a secret. Vincent looks so much like his mother, no
one ever would have been the wiser, but when Vincent was born he got sick and
needed blood.” He didn't have to finish the rest of the story. I knew the rest.

“So Rachel’s mom and Mr.
Banks found out.”

“And Grant became the
monster his own father had been.
Cold, cruel, distant, and
unloving.
Except, in a rare twist of the fates that no one expected, he
insisted on keeping Vincent as his real son. He didn't care that Vincent had
been someone else’s; he was his boy.”

The words real son gave
me the chills. “And Marianna fell into depression?”

“She did.” He nodded.
“And then she started on the pills and the drinking and combining them. One
night she tried to kill herself. Vincent was very small, maybe seven or eight.”

“Rachel’s mom had her
committed?”

“They had to deal with it
quietly.” He was holding something back.

“Whatever it is you might
as well tell me.”

He turned and gave me a
look. “There were whispers from Silver Hills that Marianna hadn’t tried to take
her own life. She swore Grant had forced the pills and booze down her throat.
That maybe he had been poisoning her for a long time.”

“She wasn't actually an
addict—he made her one?”

“Like I said, she was
always sort of a drunk.” He shrugged. “Whispers aren’t usually true. But if
there is one man I can imagine doing that, it‘s Grant Banks.”

My father’s words made me
shiver as a cool breeze tickled along my arms. I looked out at the ocean and
sighed. “We think there’s a chance Vincent’s mom is the killer or somehow
responsible for all of this.”

“God, I wish that were
the case but there’s no way.”

“How do you know?”

“I know. Marianna took
the opportunity to leave this life behind and ran. She left Vincent behind when
she gladly traded him for a payout. She never looked back. She wanted out
before she was even married to Grant as part of a business merger between the
two families. Marianna was cut off from her family, but she didn't care. She
hated them and this life more than anything.”

“Maybe she wants revenge
for that.”

“You’re missing what I’m
saying. She left peacefully, excitedly actually. She wanted to go. Grant takes
Vincent to France to see her every summer because that was the only stipulation
she had in the custody papers. She would stay quiet about the attempt on her
life and let him keep his son and most of his money. She had signed a prenup
anyway. She never stood to get anything. Not that she needed it. Her rich Swiss
doctor could give her anything she needed, including a summerhouse in France.
She’s happy. Your mother saw her last summer. She said she looks ten years
younger. They had quite the visit. She has stayed in contact with everyone from
here and loves all of us. Except Grant of course.”

“So Rachel’s mom did it
to save Marianna, and Marianna wanted out and doesn't hate everyone here? She
wouldn’t have killed Rachel to spite Mrs. Swanson. Not even for sleeping with
Mr. Swanson?”

“No. Darling, whoever
killed Rachel, their motive isn’t likely tied to the old debts. We made peace
with the way things were a long time ago. And Rachel’s mother knew all along
her husband was Vincent’s biological father. It was her idea to use her
husband’s sperm. They did it in a lab. Vincent is a test tube baby. There was
no affair.” He shook his head. “I wish I had an answer for you, but I’m certain
Rachel made her own enemies somehow, and this will all lead back to her.”

“What about Mr. Henning?”

His eyes narrowed. “I
have thought about that one long and hard. The conclusion I have come up with
is that whoever killed him did it to make it look like it was the same killer.
He’d made a very bad bed for
himself
to lie in. He was
bankrupt for starters. And owed a lot of money.”

“What do you mean? How is
that even possible?”

“He’d pissed people off
in the business world, and unfortunately for him, most of us know someone like
Hendricks who can fix anything for the right price.” He gave me a look. “I hate
that you see all of this.
That you know so much.
I
thought I was keeping you out of it.”

I leaned in and rested my
head on his shoulder. “Pretending I’m not there isn’t keeping me out of it. You
just made me have to look harder for the answers, which uncovered more
questions and answers along the way. And it helps that I don't forget
anything.”

His body trembled
slightly as he breathed in and nodded. “I am so sorry, Lainey. I have been a
selfish and lazy father to you and Mazy and Mike too, I’m afraid. I love you,
all three of you, more than a single other thing in this world. I may not show
it, but I do. I love you all equally too. I’m sorry I am such a failure.”

I didn't argue with him.
I couldn't. I would be lying. So I leaned on him and let him cry as I processed
everything.