Her Sister's Secrets Page 8

  I entered the door and the hostess looked up at me. “I have a reservation at noon,” I said.

  “Name?” she asked.

  “Uh, Emilia Farrow?” I didn’t know if the reservation had been put under my name or not.

  “Yes, here you are,” she said. “Would you like to wait for the other member of your party here or at the table?”

  So, someone was meeting me. My stomach turned over. I considered turning around and walking out, because it was one thing to think that a man wouldn’t shoot you in a public place, and another thing entirely to put your life in his hands. I didn’t know a damned thing about this Host person, but he seemed creepy.

  Violet, I told myself. This is for Violet.

  “I’ll wait at the table,” I said. Might as well get a drink before this Host person showed up. I had a feeling I was going to need one to deal with this situation.

  The hostess took me to a table for two in the middle of the restaurant. It really couldn’t get much more public than that. Everyone in the whole place could see us. I felt reassured by that. And then I second-guessed myself, wondering if the Host had requested it to lure me into a false sense of security.

  I waited for a waitress to come by and get my drink order, but no one did.

  Instead, the hostess brought a woman over to my table. She looked to be about my mother’s age, or the age my mother would have been, her late fifties. She looked familiar. She was not the Host. I knew her.

  When she saw me, her eyes widened.

  “Mrs. Porter,” I said. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  “Why, Emilia,” she said. “Emilia Farrow? Is that you?”

  I nodded.

  “I hadn’t expected this to be you.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you either,” I said. “What are you doing here? Why are you meeting me?”

  “I didn’t know it was going to be you,” she said. “I was told to meet a girl in a blue dress who had a reservation here at noon.”

  Oh, geez. “Who told you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. She swallowed. “I’ve been getting these texts, you see.”

  This was all very, very confusing. I sat down at the table.

  Mrs. Porter sat down too. I knew Mrs. Porter from when I was a little girl. She used to work for the Wainwrights at the same time my mother did. She was Drew’s nanny. But she left a few months before my mother left, and none of us knew why. One day she was there, and the next she wasn’t. I remembered, now that I was thinking about it, that Drew had been beside himself. He’d run around the whole house crying for her, wanting to know where she was.

  “I’ve been getting texts too, Mrs. Porter,” I said.

  “Call me Charlotte,” she said. “You’re not a little girl anymore.” She shook her head at me. “I haven’t seen you in so long. You’re so grown up. How’s your mother?”

  I looked away. “Actually, she passed away.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” She put her hand on top of mine.

  “Cancer,” I said.

  “Oh, you poor child.” She patted my hand.

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to dwell on that. So, I changed the subject back to the matter at hand. “What are these texts you get about?”

  She sighed. “Oh, I don’t even know if I can go into that. It’s sort of personal. But, anyway, I can’t refuse the person with the texts. They threaten me.”

  “Threaten to hurt you?”

  “It’s more a kind of blackmail.” She rubbed her forehead, looking embarrassed and frightened. “I can’t talk about it, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. Blackmail? Well, this Host guy got even weirder. “I just don’t know why this person set us up to meet each other. Do you know?”

  But at that moment, we were interrupted by the waitress, coming for our drink orders. I ordered a vodka cranberry and Charlotte ordered red wine. When the waitress had gone, I’d lost the thread of our conversation, and I wasn’t sure how to return to it.

  “Why did you leave all those years ago?” I suddenly came out with.

  “What?”

  “The Wainwrights,” I said. “I remember that you left, but I don’t know why.”

  She sighed heavily. “Well, there’s a lot to that story that I don’t like to think about.”

  “You know we left too. My mother packed me and my sister up and hauled us off without a word. It practically destroyed her career. She never told me why she left either.”

  Charlotte sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’m glad that Audrey did leave. I’m glad. I don’t think anyone should have stayed in that house with that… those people.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s a horrible place. They’re horrible people. All the Wainwrights. It was a demanding job, anyway. I was always on call, never a moment’s peace. That Drew boy was a handful.”

  “You remember my sister Violet?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “She went back to work for the Wainwrights.”

  “Oh, that’s a bad idea.”

  “Which is what I told her,” I said. “And now, she’s gone. She, um, she drowned. But I think…” I leaned closer. “I think maybe someone killed her.”

  Charlotte’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Please, if you know something about the Wainwrights that would lead you to believe that there’s violence—”

  “Not murder,” said Charlotte. “Nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Oh, Emilia, you can’t expect me to just come out with it in the middle of a restaurant like this.”

  “Then, let’s leave.” I stood up. “We haven’t actually consumed anything. Let’s just leave. We’ll go for a walk. Around the circle. On the beach. Whatever you want.”

  “No, I can’t talk about that place.” She stood up too. “I can’t. I won’t.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help you. I’m sorry about your sister, but I don’t know anything about murder. I swear.” Her face twisted. “I have to go. I’m sorry. I can’t—” She turned suddenly and fled.

  “Charlotte!” I called after her. I started to go after her, but the waitress was in my path, with our drinks.

  The waitress set them down. “Is she all right?”

  I got out my purse and dug out some cash.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” said the waitress. “Your bill has been taken care of in advance.”

  “Great,” I said. Then I swerved around her and went out of the restaurant, after Charlotte.

  But when I got outside, I didn’t see her anywhere.

  CHAPTER TEN

  When I got back to the house, the front door was locked, which I could swear I hadn’t done, because I’d been rushing on my way out, and I hadn’t been able to find the house key.

  Typically, I wouldn’t have left a house unlocked, but everything that was there didn’t belong to me, anyway. Besides, I’ve heard it said that if a professional thief really wants into your house, he’s getting in, lock or no. Anyway, I’d been nervous. I hadn’t wanted to be late. And I hadn’t gone looking for the key. I’d just left.

  Which meant that now, the key to the house was locked inside somewhere, and I had no way inside.

  I called Phin, because he was the person I called in a crisis.

  He didn’t pick up, though, and I figured he was at work, which was where he was most of the time.

  Then I didn’t know what to do. I had a vague idea of going next door to the Wainwrights to ask for help, but I didn’t know what they’d be able to help me do. Maybe break a window or something?

  Then I remembered that you were supposed to go around looking for an unlocked window if you’d locked yourself out. So, I did that. I wandered around the entire wraparound porch, trying every single window. Not one of them were unlocked, and why would they be? It wasn’t yet getting cool enough at night to open the windows and turn off the air conditi
oner, so I hadn’t opened a window since arriving at the place.

  Through one of the windows, though, I could see the cell phone that the Host had left for me, and I thought that if I could get to that, I’d call the number the Host had left for me and I would make that person come and let me back in.

  But I couldn’t get in.

  So, I sat down on the steps leading down to the beach and tried to plot out my next move. If I did go up to the Wainwright house, should I bother to ask for Drew? I wasn’t sure that a guy like Drew had ever done anything as hands-on as break into a house in his whole life. Of course, maybe he knew a locksmith or something.

  It also occurred to me that this house was owned by someone if it had been rented out to the Host, and I could probably get that place to give me a key. Maybe I didn’t need to bother Drew. Maybe if I googled the address, I could find a listing for it, and then call the rental company, and then—

  “Hey there, Emilia!”

  I looked up. It was Jonah Fletcher. He’d obviously been swimming. He was wearing nothing except a pair of swimming trunks, and they were wet. His hair was wet too. He was down the beach from me, walking up out of the surf.

  I waved. I still couldn’t figure Jonah out. Here he was, being super cheerful to me, but half the time, I got the impression he was making fun of me. What was his deal? “You don’t have any experience breaking into a house do you?” I called.

  “What?” He cupped a hand behind his ear.

  “Never mind!” I yelled.

  But he walked up the beach toward me. Oh, geez. It was apparently the month of my life to be accosted by half-naked, attractive men. Because Jonah Fletcher was, you know, really nicely put together. He had extremely broad shoulders and really thick biceps. “I like to swim down from my house,” he said to me, grinning. “What are you up to?”

  I sighed. “I’m locked out.”

  “Oh, crap,” he said. “How’d that happen?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I swear I didn’t lock the door.” I wondered if sending me down to that restaurant had been a ruse to get me out of the house so that the Host could get inside and do something. Then maybe he’d locked the door on the way out.

  “Well, you must have,” said Jonah, sauntering up the walkway to my house.

  I got up from where I was sitting on the steps.

  He stopped at the bottom of the steps.

  I waited for him to come up toward the front door.

  But he didn’t. He looked down at the layer of decorative stone around the house. Then he bent down, riffled through the stones, and picked a largish one up. It was flat on the bottom. “These are usually pretty easy to spot,” he said. “I don’t even know why people think they can hide them.”

  “What is that?” I said.

  He flipped the flat rock over and slid a hidden door on the back open. Then he shook a key out into his palm. He handed it over. “It’s one of those faux rocks to hide a spare key. You’re lucky there’s one out here.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “I didn’t.” He shrugged. Water was dripping off his shoulders. It was traveling in rivulets down over his pecks and stomach muscles. Jesus Christ. He grinned at me, and I forced myself to stop ogling him. I blushed. “I, uh, just happened to see it when I looked down here.” He handed me the key.

  “Well, um, thank you,” I said. Suddenly, I noticed that there was a scar on his forearm. Puffed up skin in a round circle about the size of a quarter. “Ouch,” I said. “That looks like it hurt.”

  His hand went over the scar and his gaze flicked down to his feet. “Yeah, that was a long time ago,” he mumbled.

  Oh. Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up the scar. “Sorry,” I said.

  “No, don’t be.” He smiled at me, well, tried to, but couldn’t seem to manage it. He handed me the hollow rock as well. “I’ll, uh, see you around, Emilia.” He turned and started back for the water.

  I watched the muscles in his back, wondering if there were no normal looking men on the entire key. Next time I saw a guy in swimming trunks, I wanted him to have a beer gut or something. Well, I mean, I didn’t want to see a beer gut. I just wanted not to be uncomfortably distracted all the time. Hell.

  Jonah waded back into the surf. When he was deep enough, he started to swim.

  Okay, Emilia, I said to myself. You’re totally being a creeper watching him. Inside.

  I took the key he’d given me and unlocked the door. I went inside.

  The house key was sitting out on a small table right next to the door. I hadn’t left it there. Had I?

  * * *

  “You called me?” said Phin when I answered the phone. He sounded out of breath.

  “Yeah, but it’s fine now,” I said. “I was locked out of the house, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

  Creepily, I was fairly sure that someone had been in the house, because there were some new flowers in the vase and fresh milk and eggs in the refrigerator.

  “Okay,” he said. I could hear him breathing into the receiver, trying to steady his breathing. “Okay, listen, Mila, you call me, you leave a fucking message or you send a text or something, because I saw this, and you sent it hours ago, and I thought you might be dead already.”

  “Jesus,” I said. “Chill out, Phin.”

  “I’m serious,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “Well, you did,” he said.

  “Sorry,” I said again.

  “I’m going to say this again, because I can’t stop saying it, but you should leave that place and come home.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I said. “Besides, you don’t even know all the other weird things that have been happening.”

  “Like?”

  I launched into an explanation of the meeting with Charlotte, the instructions from the Host, and how she’d run off in the middle of all of it.

  “Whoa,” said Phin. “So, you think something bad was happening to her at the Wainwright house?”

  “Why else would both her and my mom leave?” I said. “You know what I think? I think that Hazel and Roman had a child with a hunchback or something, and he was mentally disturbed, like Michael Myers, and that they couldn’t bear to have him institutionalized, so they locked him up in the attic of the house, and both Charlotte and my mom saw him, and he was so horrific to behold that they went running screaming from the house and have never been able to even speak of it again.”

  “Sure,” said Phin dryly. “And all that’s missing from that story is a pack of horny teenagers who are being stabbed one by one during spring break or something. Like, when they stayed at that house you’re staying at. Except Violet found their bodies and so the Wainwright family killed her to keep their secret.”

  “Oh my God, Phin, do you think that could be possible?”

  “No,” said Phin. “That is crazy.”

  “And the Flowers in the Attic shit we have going on isn’t?”

  “Point,” he said.

  “But you know what? That’s not all that happened today.”

  “What else happened?”

  I told him about the house being locked, the key being out, and Jonah Fletcher rescuing me.

  “Wait, who’s Jonah Fletcher?”

  “Didn’t I tell you about him?”

  “No,” said Phin.

  “He’s like my hot neighbor,” I said. “Who’s off and on charming and then rude. He was at the party at the Wainwrights. At first I thought maybe he was hitting on me, but then he was all, ‘You don’t belong here.’”

  “Weird,” said Phin. “And he knew where the spare key was?”

  “Yeah,” I said. I was wandering through the house as I talked on the phone, and suddenly, I came face to face with the vase of fresh calla lilies. “Oh, hell,” I whispered.

  “What?” said Phin.

  “Um, at the party, he had a calla lily in his lapel. I just remembered. Just like th
e calla lilies in the house.” I shook my head. “And then he knew where the spare key was. I wonder if he’s the Host.”

  “Okay,” said Phin. “That’s freaky. Like maybe he locked you out on purpose so that he could rescue you.”

  “Yeah, while being all wet and practically naked and with those… biceps.” I shuddered, partly because I was freaked out, partly because I still sort of wanted a sex contract with the host, especially if he was Jonah Fletcher. Well. Maybe. I mean, Jonah Fletcher was also kind of a jerk. But that was sort of par for the course with these weird, kinky billionaire types, right?

  Of course, if he’d actually come into the house and put in the flowers and the groceries, had he gone swimming afterward as a cover or what?

  “Man, you’re kind of making me wish I’d been there,” said Phin. “Should I google him? Find a picture?”

  “Definitely,” I said.

  It was quiet on the other end. Then a hiss from Phin. “Oh, wow. You’re right. He is hot.”

  “I told you,” I said. “If I could find out who the Host was, that would be something. How can I find out if he’s the Host?”

  “I don’t know. What do we have from the Host?”

  “The house,” I said.

  “The phone?” he said. “Is there some way we can figure out where the phone came from?”

  “Like how?” I said.

  He was quiet.

  “All the clothes. All the food,” I said. “Maybe if someone bought all these clothes, someone who sold them to that person might remember—”

  “The DNA test,” said Phin.

  “That’s true,” I said. “If the Host got the DNA test done himself, maybe he had it sent to his address. I’ll call you right back.”

  “Wait, what are you doing?”

  I hung up on him.

  I hurried through the house and got the DNA test out again. In the upper right hand corner, I found the name of the testing center, Heritage Testing. Beneath was an address, phone number, and fax number. I dialed the number.

  I waited as it rang.

  An automated voice picked up with an array of choices for me. If I wanted to check on the status of a testing, I should press one. If I had a billing question, I should press two, etc.