Her Sister's Secrets Page 10

  “Hey, sweetie, it’s a really underreported crime. I mean, think about it. Reporting it would mean that she’d have to go through it all over again. And unless she would have gone right away and had bodily evidence, there would have been no way to be sure he’d even be convicted.”

  “But there were witnesses. Violet and I both saw.”

  “And you’d put your kids through that? Besides, you said you blocked it out.”

  I clenched my hands into fists. “That… that monster. He’s so disgusting. I can’t believe—” I broke off. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What?” he said.

  “The DNA test,” I said. “If Violet was actually Roman’s daughter, then… what? You think my mother was raped by him twice?”

  “Huh,” said Phin. “That seems odd. Why would she stay there if that had already happened?”

  “Maybe it was consensual before, and then… later…” I sucked in a breath. “Maybe that’s another reason not to report it. Maybe if she had consented before, she thought…” Oh, hell, I felt so awful. My mother had lived with this her whole life. And I didn’t think she’d ever gotten over it. She’d never so much as dated again. The only man in her life had been Fluffy. Roman Wainwright had taken so much from her. From all of us.

  “That makes sense, actually,” said Phin. “God, your poor Mom.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “I wish I was there to give you a hug.”

  “I do too,” I said.

  * * *

  I had a hard time sleeping that night. I wondered what I should do. Now that I remembered this, should I report the crime? Was there anything that could be done if my mother was already dead? I wanted Roman Wainwright locked up for the rest of his life.

  Charlotte had said there were others. Maybe if I found the others, and we all went to the police, they would have to believe us.

  Of course, Roman had a lot of money, and he could fight us on this, maybe forever, maybe try to force us to take a settlement, and we wouldn’t have the resources to keep fighting. And the women who’d kept quiet all this time, maybe they were like Charlotte, not wanting to relive it.

  I couldn’t believe that Charlotte hadn’t even told her husband. It seemed to me like a thing that would affect your marriage. And she needed support.

  But I didn’t even know how to contact Charlotte, when it came down to it. I didn’t know how to proceed.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. I paced in the kitchen, too upset to make breakfast—which is pretty upset for me—and held my phone, peering down at Oliver’s number, thinking about calling him. At the very least, I thought, he might be able to advise me on what my options were.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Was it Charlotte back?

  I hurried to open it up.

  It was Drew Wainwright. And he looked like his dad, not a lot, but a little, around the eyes, and looking at him made me sick to my stomach. “What?” I said.

  “You okay?” he said. “You still feeling sick from the other day? Maybe you weren’t seasick, but like sick sick? Is it contagious?” He was backing up.

  “I’m not sick,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m…” Dealing with the fact that your father is a rapist, that’s all. I folded my arms over my chest, realizing I was still in my pajamas with mussed hair, and I probably looked sick. “I’m just not having a great morning, that’s all.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I’m still having bad days too. I miss her so much.”

  Oh, he was talking about Violet. But it was as good an excuse as any. I knew that Violet didn’t remember that night with Mom anymore than I had, because that was the only way she could have borne working for the Wainwrights. I nodded. “Yeah, I miss her too.”

  He looked down at his feet, letting out a long, low breath.

  We were both quiet.

  When he lifted his gaze, his eyes were shining. “Uh, actually, that’s part of the reason I came by. I’m, um, having a memorial for Violet tomorrow. It’s not anything official, but—”

  “Why weren’t you at Violet’s funeral?” The words ripped out of me.

  He looked taken aback.

  “If you two were so close, and you’re so upset about her being gone, then why didn’t you come? There was an announcement in the paper and everything.”

  “I-I couldn’t.” He sniffed hard. “I was too much of a mess. I got ready to go, but I couldn’t drive. I was so upset. I did come to the viewing.”

  “Did you? I didn’t see you.”

  “You were busy talking,” he said. “I saw you.”

  My eyes narrowed. This was all very suspicious, wasn’t it?

  “Uh, I’m sorry I didn’t come,” he said.

  I needed to play this cool. “No need to apologize. I know you would have been there if you could.”

  “Anyway, that’s part of the reason I need to have this memorial. Because I wasn’t there for the funeral. And I need a formal way to say goodbye to her. I would really love it if you would come.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “I’d like everyone who feels they can to share stories about her, so that we can remember her together. If you have a story you’d like to share, that would be great. But if you can’t handle it, I understand.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I’ll think about that.”

  “Great,” he said. “It’s, um, tomorrow afternoon. Around 3:30. At my house.” He pointed over his shoulder.

  I nodded.

  He peered into my house.

  “Oh, I’ve been rude,” I said. “Would you like to come in?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them, because I had not ruled him out as my sister’s murderer yet. I probably shouldn’t be alone with him.

  He stepped inside. “Thanks. Won’t stay more than a minute.”

  I closed the door behind him, cringing a little. Don’t kill me, don’t kill me, I thought. Truth was, my money was on Roman after what I’d remembered the night before. He’d proven he was vicious enough to do it. And who knows? Maybe Violet had remembered what he did to our mom. Maybe she’d confronted him. Maybe that was why he killed her.

  Roman wouldn’t have even had to do it personally. He was rich enough that he could have hired someone to do his dirty work.

  Drew was walking around the house. “This is really nice,” he said. “Your cooking blog must be doing pretty well, then. Good for you.”

  “Uh… I do okay,” I said. Which wasn’t lying, but wasn’t really telling the truth either. For some reason, I didn’t think it was the best idea to give Drew any information he didn’t need. And telling him about the Host was something he didn’t need to know.

  “Anyway, see you tomorrow,” he said, and gave me a little wave before letting himself out.

  I closed the door behind him and watched him until he was out of sight. Then I locked the door behind him.

  Whether it was Drew or his dad, I was still living next door to a murderer.

  * * *

  I wore a strappy silk black tank top over a pair of wide-legged black trousers to the memorial the next day. I put my hair up into a loose bun on the top of my head and accessorized with a matching silver necklace and earrings. I thought Violet would have approved of the outfit. It was much more elegant than anything I would have bothered to buy for myself.

  Because I was wearing pants, I didn’t want to walk over to the house on the beach, because they weren’t as easy to hold up as a skirt, and I didn’t want to get the bottoms sandy. So I braved the road instead, and it wasn’t too bad. Only one car came by on my way over, and it was on the opposite side of the road. I wondered how many people were actually going to be at this memorial. Maybe it wouldn’t be too popular. Violet had been an employee.

  But when I arrived, there was a line of cars pulling into the circular driveway in front of the Wainwright house. They were just coming from the opposite direction than my house
. In the center of the driveway were some brightly colored flowers and a palm tree. It was very nicely landscaped.

  I followed the other dark-clad people around the side of the house to one of the decks that jutted off the back of the house. There were multi-levels of decks back here, all connected by wooden staircases. It was a great place to play long and involved games of hide-and-seek.

  One deck would be the base for one team, and another would be the base for another. When you were found, you were corralled into the the enemy team’s base, and someone who was still in hiding could sneak out and “jailbreak” you. That was the way we always played it here, anyway. After moving out from the Wainwright house, I couldn’t remember ever playing such a complicated version of hide-and-seek again.

  On the biggest deck, the one only a story off the ground, there was an arch set up at the front, and rows of white chairs set up facing it, facing the sea. That was apparently where the memorial was to take place.

  I wandered over to the area. No one was sitting down yet. Everyone was milling about, making small talk in groups of three or four. I scanned the people gathered, trying to recognize someone. I didn’t.

  Where the heck was Drew? He was supposed to be here. It was his memorial, after all. I wondered if he would be so overcome with emotion that he would miss this, like he’d missed the funeral.

  Well, I told myself, get yourself together and go introduce yourself. Maybe you can find out some information about Violet. After all, these people were here to celebrate her life. They probably had known her better in her last days than I had. But it was odd, because I didn’t remember seeing most of these people at Violet’s funeral. Maybe they were just here because they’d been invited by a Wainwright and thought it was a social activity to see and be seen. The thought made me angry.

  So, I marched over to the first person I saw, a woman wearing a knee-length black skirt. She had long, manicured, red nails.

  “Hi there,” I said, offering her my hand. “I’m Violet’s sister.”

  “Oh,” said the woman, taking my hand carefully. “How lovely to meet you. Violet planned at least four or five of my parties. She was truly a genius at what she did. It’s such a tragedy.”

  So, that was how she knew her? She’d hired her?

  “You have to wonder if it could have been prevented,” said the woman. “I was just saying the other day that I think there should be more signs posted about swimming at one’s own risk. I think we should take it to the city council. Maybe you’d speak? I think, coming from you, it would have more weight.”

  I did a double take. “I don’t think the lack of signs are the problem.”

  “No?” she said, looking genuinely surprised. “But perhaps she simply didn’t know—”

  “That there was no lifeguard on duty? It was dark.”

  “Hmm,” she said. “I suppose that’s true. Perhaps she wouldn’t have seen a sign anyway.”

  My nostrils flared. Was this woman being purposely daft? “Excuse me,” I said. “I see someone I need to speak to.”

  “Of course,” she said, smiling carelessly.

  I walked away from the woman, taking deep breaths to calm myself. What an idiot.

  “Emilia,” said a female voice.

  I whirled.

  It was Tania. She hugged me. Actually hugged me. Sure, she did it gingerly, but it was an actual embrace. “Of course you’d be here.”

  I pulled back. “Tania. What a surprise. I suppose you and Drew are staying close, even after your separation.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why would you bring that up?”

  “It’s just that, in the regular world, when you break up with someone, you usually take some time away from the other person.”

  “Well, of course,” she said. “But in the wake of this tragedy, Drew needs someone.”

  Really? “I see.”

  “He didn’t exactly invite me,” she said, “but that’s only because he’s beside himself with grief right now. He doesn’t know what to do with himself at all. I’m here to support him in whatever way I can.”

  I pressed my lips together. I didn’t even want to touch that. “Have you had a chance to talk to Drew lately?”

  “Not lately, why?”

  Because he was supposed to ask you questions to determine if you were a murderer or not, that’s why. “No reason,” I said. “Just curious.”

  “I really am sorry for your loss,” said Tania. “And I hope I didn’t come off otherwise when I saw you at the party the other night. I really didn’t mean to, you have to believe me. I miss Violet a great deal.”

  “Where were you when you heard the news that she’d drowned?” I said, in a roundabout way looking for an alibi.

  “Oh, I must have been at home,” she said. “I think I saw it on the news.”

  She thought she’d saw it? She didn’t know? Was that because she had actually discovered Violet was dead when she held my sister’s body underwater?

  “Really? The morning after, then?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Where were you the night before?”

  “Oh, I can’t even remember.” She shrugged. “Where were you?”

  “I was at home,” I said. Come to think of it, I didn’t have an alibi either. Phin had been working, like always. I was there by myself. But I didn’t have a motive to kill my sister or anything. Okay, we’d argued, but—

  Why was I thinking this? I knew I hadn’t killed Violet.

  But not having an alibi didn’t necessarily mean anything, that was all.

  “Must have been awful for you.” She made to hug me again.

  I ducked away from her. “You’re really too kind.”

  She sighed.

  I looked over her shoulder, trying to think of some reason to get away from her, and that was when I saw Roman Wainwright. He was heading straight for me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Roman Wainwright was built like his son—a tall man with a trim body. He wasn’t as handsome as Drew, owing to the fact that Drew got a lot of his good looks from his mother Hazel, who’d been a model or something before marrying Roman. But anyway, he was still a formidable figure. He wore a black blazer over a black-shirt and a pair of khakis. Fairly casual for the memorial service, but then it wasn’t a formal event or anything.

  He was older than my memory of him, but he was still the same man, now with more lines on his face and hair that had gone mostly gray.

  My body reacted violently to the sight of him. I began to shake again, like I had the night before. I wanted to run away. But I seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move as he bore down on me.

  He stopped in front of me.

  I shuddered.

  He lay a meaty hand on my shoulder. “I’m so happy to see you, Emilia.”

  His touch sent squiggles of revulsion traveling into my body. I wanted to scream. I wanted to rake at his face with my nails. I didn’t do anything at all, though. I just stared at him.

  He smiled. “Violet was very special to all of us, and I can’t tell you how happy I was when she agreed to come and take over for Hazel. I’m positively lost when it comes to planning parties. I like attending, of course, but I can’t put one together properly to save my life.” He chuckled.

  My lips parted.

  “It’s an awful thing, what happened,” he said. “You must be devastated.”

  I found my voice. Sort of. It was a scratchy, grating ghost of my voice. “Don’t touch me.”

  “What was that?”

  “Don’t touch me,” I said again, this time with more force.

  He knitted his brows together in confusion.

  I reached up and shoved his hand off my shoulder. “Never touch me.”

  “Emilia, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t realize that you had issues with your personal space.”

  I laughed. It was a wild, untethered sound, and it was loud. Suddenly, everyone there had turned to look at Roman and me. “
Listen to me,” I said, my voice ringing out, “I remember now.”

  Something passed over his expression. “What are you talking about?”

  “For years, I think I blocked it out,” I said. “But I remember now. I saw you. I saw what you did. I know.”

  Everyone was watching us, and no one was making a noise.

  He gave me a concerned look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m afraid. I know you must be very upset about your sister—”

  “I saw what you did to my mother,” I said. “And I know she wasn’t the only one, and if it’s the last thing I do, I will make sure that you never do that again.”

  “Really, Emilia, perhaps you should have a drink and calm down.”

  “You are a monster. You are disgusting. I look at you, and I want to—”

  Someone was next to me, wrapping a strong hand around my upper arm.

  I flinched, turning to look.

  It was Drew. He looked from me to his father and then back to me. “Emilia, are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay,” I said. “Your rat bastard of a father ruined my mother’s life.”

  “All right,” said Drew, tugging on me, “come on. You’re making a scene.”

  “Well, of course, I’m making a scene,” I said, trying to stay put. “Because I need to make a scene.”

  “You don’t,” said Drew, and he was too strong for me. He was dragging me away.

  I had to walk with him or else lose my footing. So, I did, and we walked over the deck and down the steps to the sand below, where the noise of the waves got louder and louder.

  We stopped on the final platform, the one on the same level as the beach. It was covered in sand, and the bottoms of my pants were getting sandy.

  Drew let go of me.

  I started back for the steps to go back and keep yelling at Roman.

  He stopped me. “Hold on. Talk to me. What is going on?”

  I was still shaking. I didn’t know whether it was from shock or anger, or a mixture of both. “Your father. When I was a little girl, I saw him…” I suddenly couldn’t find the words.