Secret Sisters (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

“What about you?” Madeline asked. She watched Daphne shuffle through yet another stack of old photos. “Did you ever get counseling?”

“No.” Daphne tossed the pictures aside. “For the same reason you didn't. I knew the source of my problems but I couldn't tell anyone. Mom talked to me about it a few times, though. Mostly she kept telling me that we were safe and that I shouldn't worry. But I kept having nightmares. Oh, God, Madeline. There was so much blood that night and I was so afraid it was yours.”

“You aren't the only one who has had a few nightmares. I still wake up from time to time feeling as if I'm being suffocated.”

“To this day I can't read thrillers or watch gory films.” Daphne made a face. “My husband used to tease me about having a weak stomach.”

“If he had only known the truth. You were the bravest kid in town and you saved me.”

“I was terrified.”

Madeline looked at her. “It wouldn't be an act of courage in the first place if you weren't scared to death. I want you to know that I
have not only been enormously grateful to you all these years, I've also admired you. You were a true heroine that night.”

“Not really.”

“Yes,” Madeline said. “Really.”

“You and I should have talked about what happened. We never processed it.”

Madeline winced. “Not sure that's even possible.”

“So we've both got issues.”

“Who doesn't have issues? Personally, I'm trying to embrace mine. I tell myself they're firewalls.”

“Good plan. I think I'll do the same.”

Daphne's voice was a little too flat, a little too even. Madeline looked at her.

“What happened, Daph?”

“I fell in love. Got married.”

“I hear that happens.”

“Brandon died a year ago. Brain cancer.”

“I know. Jack mentioned that you had lost your husband. It came up when he started looking for you online.” Madeline dumped a heap of ancient photography magazines on the bed and put her arms around Daphne. “I'm so sorry.”

“I should be moving forward. But it feels like I'm trapped in quicksand.”

“Everyone processes grief in their own way. There are no rules.”

“It isn't the grief that has me trapped. It's the anger.”

“I understand. They say there are several stages to grief. One of them is anger.”

“I'm pissed, all right.” Daphne pushed her fingers through her spiky hair. “But I couldn't tell anyone else exactly why. It would have been just too damn humiliating.”

“What happened?”

“A woman came to the funeral. She was a colleague of Brandon's at the bank where he worked. Her name was Jennifer. I had met her once or twice. She even came to see Brandon a couple of times when he was in the hospital. I thanked her for attending the funeral services. But I noticed that she seemed really broken up by his death.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. Uh-oh. When I started going through Brandon's things, I found some of their correspondence on his computer. It went back three years. They had been lovers before Brandon and I met. She was married to someone else. According to the emails, they both agreed to stop seeing each other after Brandon asked me to marry him. And for a while, I guess they called it quits. But it didn't last long. They restarted the affair a few months later.”

“That lying, cheating, double-crossing
bastard
.”

Daphne looked startled by the fierce reaction. Then she smiled a wry, humorless smile. “I wake up thinking those exact words nearly every morning. I keep remembering all the times he told me that he loved me, especially toward the end.”

“When he wanted to make sure you stayed by his bedside because he didn't want to die alone,” Madeline said.

“After I found out the truth, I definitely felt used. There is no other word for it. A part of me keeps wishing I could go back in time and tell him that I know everything and then walk away and leave him there in that hospital bed, hooked up to all those tubes and needles.”

“Think of it this way. He's gone. You're still alive. As revenge scenarios go, it doesn't get much better than outliving the son of a bitch.”

Daphne went blank, evidently stunned. Then she started to laugh. It started out as weak, nervous giggling, but within the space of a couple of breaths she was laughing hard, too hard. It was over-the-top laughter. Hysterical laughter. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Madeline put her arms around her and held her until the cathartic laughter subsided. When Daphne was once again under control, Madeline released her.

Daphne found a tissue in her pocket and blotted her eyes.

“Wow,” she said after a moment. “That's harsh.”

“We executive types are known for being able to get to the bottom line.”

“Unlike some of your ex-boyfriends, I admire that in a woman—especially a sister. Thanks, Maddie. As the old saying goes, I needed that.”

“Anytime.”

Madeline turned away—and saw the framed photo on the bedside table. Tom had framed only his personal favorites, the pictures he considered art. But this was not one of his startling landscapes. It was a casual photo of Tom himself. In the picture he was a young, handsome man in his prime, proudly dressed in a military uniform. There was a pretty, smiling woman standing next to him. Tom's arm was draped around her shoulders in an unmistakably possessive pose. The woman was dressed in a style that Madeline estimated to be several decades out of date.

“Looks like Tom did have at least one relationship at some point in the past,” Madeline said.

Daphne came to look over her shoulder. “Maybe there's a name or a date on the back. Although I don't know what good it would do us to know the identity of a long-lost love. Obviously things didn't turn out well for them.”

“Maybe she died and Tom spent the rest of his life grieving.”

Madeline carefully disassembled the picture frame and removed the photo.

A second photo fell out. It had been concealed behind the first. The shot had been taken from a distance. The subject seemed entirely
unaware that she was being photographed. She was standing on the top of the cliffs in front of the Aurora Point Hotel. Her shoulder-length blond hair was blowing around her face but the flying tendrils did not entirely obscure her striking features.

“Whoever she is, she's stunning,” Daphne whispered. “Look, she's dressed in a modern style—not like the woman in the other photo.”

Madeline flipped the picture over. Written on the back in Tom's handwriting was the name
Ramona
and a date.

“According to the date, this picture was taken about six weeks ago,” Madeline said. “Do you suppose Tom and this woman were in a relationship?”

“She's way too young for Tom,” Daphne said.

“Since when does being young, sexy, and stunning stop a man from getting excited?”

Daphne winced. “Right.”

They studied the photo intently.

“It doesn't look like she knew Tom was taking the picture,” Daphne said. “I wonder if there are any more of our mysterious Ramona.”

Footsteps sounded on the front steps.

“That will be Jack and Abe,” Madeline said. “Maybe they found something.”

She led the way down the short hall and opened the door. Jack and Abe trooped across the porch.

“Any sign of Porter's car?” she asked.

“It never left the grounds,” Jack said. “It's stashed in the maintenance building.”

Daphne frowned. “I thought you said earlier there was no car parked in there.”

“Once we found this, we knew what had happened,” Jack said.

He held up a badly rusted sheet of metal cut into a familiar rectangular shape.

Madeline stared at it, her pulse kicking up. “It looks like an old license plate.”

“That's exactly what it is,” Abe said. He grinned. “We're pretty sure Lomax took Porter's car apart in his very own chop shop. He may have buried a few pieces. But a lot of it is still there in the shed—enough for me to be able to trace the ownership and registration.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Louisa opened the door of her study, a room she considered her private sanctuary, and walked into the space as if it were the lair of a dangerous reptile. The weak light of the rainy afternoon slanted through the windows.

Xavier lounged in the chair behind her desk.

“Come on in, Mom.” He gave her one of his brilliant smiles. “Dad is busy talking to New York. I thought this might be a good time for you and me to discuss a few details regarding the private reception for Dad that's going to be held before the big community birthday party.”

She closed the door and steeled herself. It was Xavier's unpredictability that frightened her the most.

“The plans are all in place,” she said. “I talked to the caterers in Seattle again this morning.”

“I'm sure it will all go off like clockwork.” Xavier sat forward in the chair. The light from the desk lamp shone down over his long, elegant fingers but left his face in shadow. “My people will see to it that the right impression of the candidate and his perfect family goes out into the world on all the social media platforms. The press releases are
almost ready. By the end of the event Travis will have the traction he needs to go all the way to the U.S. Senate. Trust me. I was born to get my big brother elected.”

Anxiety twisted Louisa's insides. Xavier was always at his most dangerous when he was most charming.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Xavier?”

Xavier lounged back in the chair. “Did you know that Madeline Chase is in town? I ran into her last night at the Crab Shack. She was there with her so-called consultant. Pretty sure he's screwing her.”

“Madeline is here to deal with the old hotel. It belongs to her now that her grandmother is gone.”

“Yeah, I heard the old lady had croaked.” Xavier shook his head and clicked his teeth. “Never did like the bitch. Wasn't real fond of Tom Lomax, either. They were the ones who got me sent away to that fucking prison you like to call the Institute the first time, weren't they?”

So much for hoping against hope that this time Xavier had changed, that this time he was staying on his meds. She should have known better, Louisa thought. A mother always knew her child.

“We've talked about this many times, Xavier. You know that your father and I felt you needed help.”

“You mean you wanted me locked up because you were afraid I might hurt your precious little Travis.”

“That's not true. We did what we thought was best for you. You must admit that you always felt better after you spent some time at the Institute. You outgrew your problems. You've been quite stable—normal—since your last stay at the clinic. Why are you bringing up the past now?”

“Because the past never goes away, Mom.” Xavier chuckled. “But you're right. I'm fine now. Never better. Absolutely fucking
normal
, thanks to you and Dad making sure I got the very best of care.”

Louisa's growing anxiety threatened to erupt into full-fledged
panic. She put her hand on her stomach and promised herself that as soon as Xavier was gone she would go into the bathroom and take one of her anti-stress meds.

“Xavier, I'm very busy today,” she said. “What is it you wanted to see me about?”

“I thought you and Dad might be interested in a little background data on Madeline's hotel consultant. He's not exactly an expert in the innkeeping business. He runs a security firm—a very low-rent security firm, I might add. Employs a total of three people, including himself.”

Louisa stilled. “Are you certain?”

“Oh, yeah. I'm certain. It makes one wonder, doesn't it? I mean, why would Madeline Chase bring in a security guy to help her decide whether to sell the Aurora Point?”

Understanding struck.

“It's Tom Lomax,” Louisa whispered. “She's got questions about his death.”

“Yeah, that's pretty much what I concluded, too. Interesting, don't you think?”