“I wanted to ask Derek about it first.” Marin’s eyes are hot with tears. “Because that text could mean he’s had a ransom demand before. I wanted to know what Derek knew.” She swallows. “He’ll be home any minute.”
“And what about what you know?” Gone is the gentle tone. Castro’s voice is hard, and Marin can picture her back in her cop days, grilling suspects relentlessly until she got to the truth. “What else do you know, Marin?”
Tell her. Tell her what you did. Tell her about Julian.
But she can’t bring herself to say a word. It’s conspiracy to commit murder. She’ll go to prison.
“That’s everything, that’s all I know,” Marin says. “Are you going to call the police? Have Sal arrested?”
“I already did.” Castro’s voice returns to normal again. “I’m waiting for word from the Prosser police department that he’s in custody. There’s nothing to do right now except wait and see what they find.”
“Find?” Marin blinks, not quite understanding what the other woman means. “Are you talking about Sebastian?”
“Marin, it’s been sixteen months now since your son was taken,” Castro says. “That’s a long time to hold someone captive. I’m not saying I have answers. We have to wait and see what Sal says. But I want you to be prepared, okay? This is me talking to you, woman to woman, mother to mother. I don’t want you to get your hopes up. You need to brace yourself. That’s why I came. I thought I could be here for you—”
Marin shakes her head rapidly. “No. Sal wouldn’t have hurt him.”
“Maybe not on purpose. Not intentionally. But Sal did grow up in a very abusive household.”
“Which is exactly why he wouldn’t hurt a child.” She’s being stubborn, because she wants it to be true. She needs it to be true. “He wouldn’t have hurt my child.”
“What kind of relationship did he have with your son?”
“He…” Marin stops, thinks. Sal didn’t have a relationship with Sebastian, not really. He didn’t dislike the kid, he just … wasn’t very interested. “They didn’t really bond. But whatever sick games he’s been playing, Sal isn’t capable of killing someone.”
“He isn’t?” Castro says. “Are you sure he didn’t kill his father?”
Marin opens her mouth to respond, then shuts it again. She shouldn’t be surprised that Castro knows about Sal’s father’s untimely death, but she has to be very careful about how she answers. “That was a long time ago.”
Castro raises an eyebrow.
“It was an accident,” Marin adds quickly. “Sal’s dad was a drunk. He—”
“According to the police report, you were there that night. Did you actually see what happened?”
“No.”
Marin hadn’t seen it. She’d come out onto the balcony a second too late.
But almost immediately, she’d told Sal to lie. She told him exactly what to say so he wouldn’t be arrested, so he wouldn’t go to prison. Why would she have done that, if she hadn’t on some level, deep down, believed he might have killed his father on purpose? Sal Sr. was a terrible human being, and it was her fault they’d even been at that party. She didn’t want her boyfriend to spend the rest of his life behind bars for killing the man who’d nearly killed his mother, and who might just as easily have killed him.
“And the people Sal associated with aren’t good people,” Castro continues. “Have you ever met his friend Julian Black?”
Marin freezes.
“They were cellmates briefly more than twenty years ago, during the time Sal was in lockup for dealing drugs. When I did background checks on everyone close to you and Derek, Julian’s name didn’t come up initially. I admit I didn’t look deeper into Sal’s life back then because I’d already eliminated him as a suspect. But when I discovered the connection between McKenzie and Sal, I took a hard look at Sal’s known associates. Julian Black has gone on to have quite the colorful criminal career. You don’t recall meeting him at any point? Sal never introduced you?”
Why is Castro asking this? Is it because she already knows the answer and is trying to catch Marin in a lie?
“I did meet him.” Marin swallows. A half truth is better than nothing. “Sal set it up. He said Julian was soliciting donations for a charity, a shelter for abused women. In hindsight the guy seemed a little shady, but the charity is legit, and it’s one I’ve contributed to before. It didn’t feel right to say no, so I donated.”
Castro says nothing for a moment. Her silence is deafening. She has to know there’s more to it than that. There’s no way the investigator’s Spidey senses aren’t tingling.
“Julian Black is known in certain underground circles as a fixer.” Castro eases the words out, her eyes never leaving Marin’s face. “He launders money. He bribes. He blackmails. If Sal wanted to kidnap your son, I wouldn’t put it past a guy like Julian to have been the one to plan it. Hell, he might even have been the one in the Santa suit.” She leans forward slightly. “My sources tell me that murder for hire isn’t out of the question for him, either. Though rumor has it, he’s very expensive.”
Oh god. Any second now, Castro is going to tell her that she knows Marin paid Julian to have McKenzie murdered. It won’t matter that Marin tried to call it off. Plans were made. Money changed hands. She’s no legal expert, but that’s got to be a prison sentence.
It’s all about to come out. Everything she’s done, everything Derek’s done, everything Sal has done. All the secrets. All the lies. Marin is no better than any of them.
And Vanessa Castro knows it. Judging by the look on her face, the other woman knows exactly what Marin did.
“Are you going to arrest me?” Marin blurts. She feels something itching her cheek. She swipes at it, realizes it’s a tear.
“Of course not,” Castro says. “I’m not a cop anymore, for one thing. There’s a reason I left that life behind. As far as your meeting with Julian…”
The two women lock eyes. Marin doesn’t dare look away.
“So maybe you did … donate.” Air quotes again. “I’m not judging you on whatever you thought you had to do at the time. That’s not what you hired me for. You lost your child, Marin. That would bring any mother to a dark place. Whatever McKenzie’s gotten herself involved in is because of her relationship with Sal, not you.”
Marin chokes back a sob, feeling the relief coursing through her entire body. All she sees on the other woman’s face now is compassion.
“Do you think McKenzie was involved in Sebastian’s kidnapping?” she asks.
“It’s possible,” Castro says. “But that would be some seriously psychopathic-level manipulation on her part, kidnapping a man’s child and then starting an affair with him months later. But honestly, who knows. If she’s been involved with Sal since she was a teenager, and Sal has known Julian for years, it’s possible the three of them were in this together and have been planning all of this for a long time.” She thinks for a moment. “But my gut tells me Sal is the mastermind. I think he used McKenzie to get to Derek, and I think Julian does his dirty work.”
A memory jogs loose, and Marin sits up straighter. “I was on the phone with Sal that day, remember? At the market. He called me from Prosser. I couldn’t speak to him for longer than maybe ten seconds, because Sebastian kept tugging me, asking for the lollipop … oh my god. He probably called me to confirm my exact location. He would have heard Sebastian in the background.”
“And Julian would have been somewhere at the market already, maybe already wearing the Santa suit.” Castro’s expression is grim. “That’s how they knew when it was time. Sal would have told him exactly when to do it.”
“How could I not have known it was Sal?” The anguish and guilt are so great, Marin’s chest feels constricted.
“How could you have known?” Castro shakes her head. “You’ve known Sal longer than you’ve known your husband. He would have been the furthest thing from your radar.”
“Are they going to arrest
Julian, too?”
“They will if they can find him, which is unlikely once Sal is in custody. But even if they do catch up to him, Julian won’t talk.”
Marin can’t keep the secret in any longer. It’s searing her from the inside out.
“Vanessa, I tried to … I tried to hire Julian to…” She chokes on her words, and the other woman reaches forward and takes her hand.
“He was never going to do it, Marin,” Castro says. “Don’t you understand that? Sal’s involved with McKenzie, and he only made you think you were hiring Julian. They wanted your money. It was a setup.”
“It was still wrong.”
“Maybe so. Maybe you lost your head, and your judgment went out the window. But I’m on your side,” Castro says. “Don’t you know that by now? I have been since the beginning. And I can say, with absolute certainty, considering all you’ve been through, you get a pass on this one.”
The sobs heave from Marin’s chest, and she cries freely in front of the woman for the first time since they met, until the sound of the garage door rolling up startles them both.
Derek is home.
Chapter 29
Kenzie’s face hurts like a sonofabitch where Julian punched her. Her eye and jaw feel like they’re pulsing with a life of their own, and it hurts to make any kind of facial expression. She stares into the mirror, tracing her finger along the swelling, and winces when she touches a particularly tender spot.
Somewhere along the way, everything has gotten so fucked up.
She’s never liked J.R.’s farmhouse. It was already old and tired when she first saw it years ago, and it’s in even worse shape now. She hates the way it smells, like moss and mildew. She hates the dated décor, especially the faded eighties wallpaper and the floral upholstery. In J.R.’s old bedroom, the mattress is so worn she can feel every coil of every spring digging into her back. J.R. said the house used to be lovely, but that was obviously well before Kenzie’s time.
The grounds aren’t much better. The three acres of grapevines surrounding the house that J.R.’s mother still owns are dried up and useless. The tree swing at the back is starting to rot. Even the temperature-controlled wine cellar underneath the old tasting room, which used to be stocked floor to ceiling with a collection of ultra-fine wines from both the family winery and around the world, is near depleted. The cellar used to be a fun place to have sex. Now it’s just depressing.
To add insult to injury, Lorna’s never liked her. J.R.’s mother thinks she’s a tramp, out to lure her son into some kind of corrupt life, which is hilarious and proves she doesn’t know a damned thing about the man he’s become. In fairness, Kenzie doesn’t like Lorna, either, but at least the woman’s been hospitable. J.R. told his mother that Kenzie was hiding out from an abusive boyfriend, which softened Lorna’s hostility toward her a little. She even gave Kenzie an ice pack and made her a bowl of soup.
“You can’t chew for a while,” Lorna had said. “Soup is easier.”
From what J.R.’s told her, his mother would know.
“Does it still hurt?” a voice asks from the bed behind her.
She didn’t realize he was awake. J.R. had fallen asleep after they had sex, but he’s sitting up now, the bedsheets pushed aside to expose his bare torso. He reaches for a half-smoked joint sitting in the ashtray and relights it. Kenzie hates it when he smokes so much. The weed makes him paranoid.
“It’s a little better, but the asshole didn’t have to hit me so hard.” She’s aware that she sounds sulky and childish, but she’s entitled. She’s still pissed.
“You want to get paid, don’t you?” J.R.’s already lost interest in the conversation. He scrolls through his phone, the joint dangling dangerously out the side of his mouth. “It had to look realistic for the picture.”
“Yeah, but not like this.” She turns away from the mirror to glare at him, then realizes it hurts to frown and relaxes her face. “When you said we would find another way to close the deal, I didn’t think you meant this.”
“Hey,” he says, staring at something on his screen. “Come here.”
He crooks a finger, motioning for her to come over. She sits on the bed, the springs bouncing under her weight, and he tilts his phone toward her. Tyler’s Facebook page is open on the screen.
“Since when do you have Facebook?” she asks.
Instead of answering, J.R. points to Tyler’s status update. Her roommate posted something about her, and the post is popular, with over a thousand likes and over three hundred comments.
“Oh shit,” she says, reading through the post. “Ty thinks I’ve disappeared. He filed a missing persons report.”
“You were supposed to text him and let him know you were okay,” J.R. says.
“I totally forgot. I probably would have remembered when I got here, but I was in too much pain yesterday. Julian turned my phone off after he texted Derek, so it couldn’t be traced.”
“For fuck’s sake, do I have to think of everything?” J.R. ruminates for a moment, then reaches for her phone sitting on the nightstand. He powers it on. “Post something on Instagram. Not of your face. And nothing that identifies where you are.”
She rolls her eyes. It’s awesome that he thinks she’s a moron.
“Just something so everyone knows you’re not dead,” J.R. says. “And then text your fucking roommate. Tell him you’re alive and that you want to be left alone.”
She sighs and walks to the window. Angling the phone upward, she snaps a photo of her hand making a peace sign against the blue sky and clouds. She uploads it to Instagram, selects a filter, and captions it, Feeling peaceful. She hashtags it #unplugged and #metime. Before she posts it, she shows it to J.R.
He nods his approval and she hits Share.
Next, she sends Tyler a text. Saw your FB post. So sorry to worry you! I’m fine, just need a time-out. Be home soon. Take care of Buford.
It takes Tyler less than a minute to reply. Seriously??? OMG u are such a fucking bitch. I was actually worried about u. Find a new place to live when u get back. Asshole.
And then a final text, five seconds later. Ur fucking lucky I love ur cat.
“Well, that’s done,” Kenzie says, her voice dripping acid. “Tyler’s kicking me out, which means I’ve officially burned every bridge I have, thanks to you.” She turns her phone off and resists the urge to throw it right at J.R.’s face. “You know that none of this was necessary, right?”
“Relax. You’ll find a new roommate. It’ll be fine.” He couldn’t sound less concerned if he tried. “Okay, good. Tyler just posted another update. Yikes. I don’t think you guys are Facebook friends anymore. Want to read it?”
Kenzie stares at him. She accepts that she loves J.R., and always will—some people worm their way into you and never leave. But there are times, like right now, when she can’t remember why she loves him. “Do you understand that this really didn’t have to happen? I could have gotten the money from Derek some other way.”
“How many times do I have to say it? Derek wasn’t going to pay you. He didn’t need to. He was already losing interest. And Marin knew about you, and she still forgave him, like she does every fucking time.” J.R. puts down his phone and crosses his arms over his chest. “All right. Indulge me. What was your plan going to be?”
“Simple,” she says. “I was going to wait until he offered me the money.”
“Offered you? You’re kidding, right?”
“Derek and I were together for six months. I had him figured out. He already gave me five grand out of guilt for breaking up with me last week. I could have gotten fifty, maybe even a hundred out of him if I played the sad/I love you/please don’t end it card. He ate that shit up. The man has a massive guilt complex, and he liked taking care of me. The fact that he’s back with Marin would have made it the perfect time for him to pay me off.”
Derek and Marin. It shouldn’t sting to think that Derek is back with his wife, but it does. She grabs her water bottle from th
e dresser and swallows down the hurt.
“Yeah, well, now it’s two fifty,” J.R. says. “Hundred for you, hundred for me, fifty for Julian.”
“I didn’t realize we were a team,” she says. “Would have been nice to get the memo.”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
“Yeah, well, your bitch beat the shit out of my face.” Kenzie pats the bruise on her jaw, careful not to press too hard.
“Stop whining. You were knocked out with the first punch. You didn’t even feel the second one,” J.R. says.
“Glad that makes it okay. And you’re assuming Derek is going to pay you.”
“He’ll pay.” The dark look is back on J.R.’s face. “He’ll definitely pay.”
“This isn’t worth it. This shit can get you arrested. This is extortion.”
He barks a laugh. “And what you were doing with Paul, and Sean, and the other dude … what the hell was his name…”
“Erik.”
“Erik. You don’t think that was extortion, too?”
“No, because they offered. That’s the beauty of it. It’s a simple business transaction, and nobody gets hurt, nobody gets a ransom demand, and sure as shit nobody gets beaten. You’ve done all this for nothing.”
He gives her a hard look. “It’s never all for nothing.”
“Derek had feelings for me. I know he did. I had him, right up until he went away with Marin—”
He leans forward and places his hand directly on the tender spot on her jaw. Reflexively, she jerks back, but he does it again, squeezing harder, forcing her to look at him. She tries not to move, knowing that if she attempts to squirm away, he’ll only hurt her more.
“Stop it.” She gasps. It hurts like hell, and tears spring to her eyes. “You’re hurting me.”
“You never had him,” J.R. says, and she lets out a yelp as he squeezes one more time before letting go. “He’ll never leave her. He was never going to be yours.”
She slides off the bed before he can grab her again. She can escape into the shower; hopefully by the time she gets out, he’ll be in a better mood. A thought occurs to her as she grabs the towel hanging at the back of the bedroom door.
Little Secrets Page 28
