Chapter 4 - Marianne’s Secret
I called June before I reached my car.
She answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Inside the cabin.”
“Where’s Marianne?”
“Outside.”
“With Trevor?”
“Yes.”
“Lock the doors.”
“I did.”
“Stay away from windows.”
“Evan, Mom went willingly.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“She saw his car and just walked out.”
“Can you hear them?”
“No.”
“Do not go outside.”
I drove faster than I should have.
Grant followed in his own vehicle.
Thirty-seven minutes later, we turned onto the gravel road.
Trevor’s car was gone.
Marianne stood alone near the lake.
June ran outside despite everything I had said.
“Mom!”
Marianne turned.
June reached her first.
“What did you do?”
“I told him to leave.”
“You met with him alone?”
“He wanted the evidence.”
“You told him we have it?”
“He already knew.”
I approached.
Marianne saw Grant.
Her expression changed.
“You.”
Grant stopped several yards away.
“We need to talk.”
Marianne looked at me.
“You contacted federal agents?”
“He contacted me.”
Grant said, “You’ve had eight years to talk.”
Marianne stared at him.
“You’re Michael’s son.”
“Yes.”
She looked suddenly exhausted.
June stepped between them.
“What is everyone hiding?”
Nobody answered quickly enough.
June shouted.
“What did you do after Caleb died?”
Marianne sat on the porch.
For once, she did not try to control the conversation.
“I made a deal.”
June went still.
“With Patrick Aldridge?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
Marianne’s hands folded together.
“A terrible one.”
I remembered the transcript.
Leave June out of this.
“Tell her,” I said.
Marianne looked at June.
“After Caleb died, your father wanted to go public.”
“With the notebook?”
“With everything.”
“So why didn’t he?”
“Because Patrick came to me first.”
Marianne swallowed.
“He showed me photographs of you leaving school. Going to dance class. Meeting friends.”
June’s face drained.
“He was following me?”
“Yes.”
“He said Caleb had forced his hand. He said if Thomas continued, accidents happened to young women too.”
June sat slowly.
“And you believed him.”
“I had just buried my son.”
Marianne’s voice broke.
“I believed anything was possible.”
“What did he want?”
“Caleb’s notebook.”
“You gave it to him?”
“A copy.”
June blinked.
“What?”
“Your father and I made copies. Patrick believed he received the original.”
Grant said, “What else?”
Marianne turned toward him.
“He wanted me to tell anyone investigating that Caleb had been drinking heavily and acting unstable before his death.”
June stared at her mother.
“You said that?”
“I did.”
“You helped them make him look responsible.”
“I was trying to save you.”
“You destroyed him!”
June stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“His own mother told police he was unstable?”
“I hated myself every day.”
“That didn’t help him!”
“No.”
Marianne stood.
“It didn’t.”
June began walking away.
Marianne followed.
“June.”
“Don’t.”
“Please.”
“Don’t touch me.”
Marianne stopped.
The pain on her face was nearly unbearable to watch.
Grant spoke quietly.
“Patrick used your fear exactly the way he intended.”
Marianne turned.
“You think I don’t know?”
“I think guilt kept you silent long after the immediate threat passed.”
She stared at him.
“Yes.”
No defense.
That mattered.
June faced the lake.
“What about Dad?”
Marianne closed her eyes.
“He never forgave me.”
“But he stayed.”
“For you.”
The sentence landed heavily.
“He wanted to expose them,” Marianne continued. “I begged him not to. We fought about it for years.”
“Did Aldridge kill Dad too?”
“I don’t know.”
Grant said, “We’re reviewing Thomas’s death.”
Marianne looked at him sharply.
“You think his heart attack wasn’t natural?”
“We think nothing should be assumed.”
June looked physically sick.
I moved closer.
“Sit down.”
She shook her head.
“I spent my entire life believing bad things just happened.”
Marianne whispered, “I wanted that for you.”
“That’s not better.”
“No.”
Again, Marianne didn’t defend herself.
That was the beginning of something.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But truth.
Grant opened the duffel.
“We need the final evidence Caleb mentioned.”
“Thomas had it,” Marianne said.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
June laughed bitterly.
“Another secret.”
Marianne looked at her.
“He never told me because he stopped trusting me.”
Silence.
That answer hurt them both.
Grant began reviewing Caleb’s papers.
I walked inside.
June followed several minutes later.
She sat at the kitchen table.
“You okay?”
“Obviously.”
“Right.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then she said, “You should leave.”
“What?”
“This isn’t yours.”
“That argument expired when someone tried my door.”
“You could still walk away.”
“So could you.”
She looked at me.
“I can’t.”
“Neither can I.”
“Why?”
I didn’t have a clean answer.
Maybe because I had spent too much time avoiding situations where I mattered.
Maybe because helping June had made me feel something I hadn’t felt in years.
Necessary.
Alive.
Connected.
Or maybe because Marianne’s face when she saw her daughter on my couch had revealed a truth that now seemed obvious.
These women were terrified of losing each other.
They were just terrible at admitting it.
“I don’t like bullies,” I said.
June smiled faintly.
“That’s your explanation?”
“For now.”
Her eyes stayed on mine.
Something shifted.
Not romance exactly.
Something warmer.
Trust.
Then her phone rang.
Trevor.
She ignored it.
Again.
Ignored.
Third time.
She answered.
“What?”
I could hear his voice faintly.
“June, listen to me.”
“Why?”
“Because my father knows you found Caleb’s storage locker.”
She looked at me.
“How?”
“He always knew it existed.”
“Then why didn’t he take it?”
“He didn’t have the key.”
“What do you want?”
“To help.”
June laughed.
“You threatened me.”
“I was trying to scare you away from this.”
“You sent those messages.”
“Yes.”
“You came to Evan’s apartment.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
A pause.
“I expect you to listen.”
June’s expression changed.
“What?”
Trevor said something.
She looked toward Marianne.
Then at Grant.
“What do you mean?”
Another pause.
June whispered:
“No.”
She ended the call.
“What did he say?” I asked.
She stood.
“He says Caleb didn’t die in the crash.”
Marianne stared at her.
“What?”
“He says Caleb survived long enough to be taken somewhere.”
Grant went rigid.
“Where?”
“Trevor says he has proof.”
Marianne’s knees nearly gave out.
“Proof of what?”
June looked at her mother.
“That someone visited Caleb before he died.”
“Who?”
June swallowed.
“Dad.”
Marianne whispered, “Thomas?”
June nodded.
“And Trevor says Dad wasn’t alone.”
Grant stepped forward.
“Who was with him?”
June looked toward the driveway.
A car was approaching.
Slowly.
Black sedan.
She whispered:
“Trevor says the second person is still alive.”
The car stopped.
The driver’s door opened.
A man stepped out.
Marianne stared at him.
May you like
Then she whispered a name none of us expected.
“Daniel Rourke.”
