She made it back to that gun again, cold steel in her hands. She’d brought it to her heart and decided to kill the woman she now was.
She placed it back in her bedside drawer to protect the woman she’d become. She vowed to be stronger, freer. More cautious and in control. She would never find herself in that horrible, trapped position again.
Emma found peace among her family and friends, but mostly within herself. She returned to painting strikingly realistic images and fairytale lands. She grew, thrived, glowed. She thought that she would finally live the life she wanted, already prepared to stand up to her father. Make her way on her own by her merits, with her art, that was already gaining interest from buyers and critics.
Then.
She put the final touches on the painting as she remembered the cage, the horrible, repulsive feeling of being trapped again after she’d just learned how to live, after she’d just been granted freedom. This time, though, it was a cage of words, a confession from her own mother.
Once again, life was a nightmare. Everything was a mess, a terrible maze she could never make it out of. She spiraled until coming to the conclusion that she would never have the control she wanted. She could never orchestrate her own life. She was wandering blind through a house of horrors, and it exhausted her. She didn’t even try to pull herself together again.
Not until she met Everett. He had changed her whole life.
Emma took a step back to admire her completed canvas. It was probably the best one she’d made, with just the right lighting and shades. The colors were flawless. The young woman’s face was filled with hope and emotion, while something sinister waited in the shadows. Uncertainty flickered across her gown.
She’d grown skilled at appraising her own artwork. She suspected she could easily find a buyer for this that would appreciate the emotion, especially coming from a woman who had been abducted twice. She’d make a fair bit of money off it. Selling her pain somehow soothed her a bit. At least now she could profit off it.
She hung up her smock, washed off her painting tools and her hands. Then she went to the kitchen and made up some lavender tea, paired it with two sugar cookies. She breathed in the sweet scent and savored the taste of the sugar against her tongue. Mindful breathing lulled her into this moment of peace.
She finished her snack. Petted Dove as she kissed the top of her head. “I love you so much,” she whispered. Dove purred, her truest companion.
Then she put her dishes in the sink and grabbed the longest, sharpest knife she could find.
She took deliberate steps up the stairs to her art studio. She stood in front of the young woman she once was. Warm light splashed down upon eyes full of promise, stupidity, naivety. So lovely.
She wished someone would have warned her then of what was to come. Death would’ve been better than marrying him. Better than being trapped in that cage. Death would’ve been better than giving up the freedom she had carved out for a liar.
She’d give anything to go back, rewrite all her pages. She’d taken control finally, yet sometimes she still felt helpless.
She tried to rip through that feeling as she sent the knife plunging through the canvas. Shredded pieces of paper fell at her feet as she cut and cut and cut and sobbed.
She tried to rip right through those memories. Tear them straight from her heart, her head. So, she could finally move on for good. She attacked her emotions with the knife until all of her work lay shredded, ruined at her feet.
As she lay among the ruins on the wood floor, she only felt worse, defeated. She curled up into a ball around Dove and sobbed. She was forever unable to escape him, destined to be the girl who slipped into silence.
Chapter Thirty
Amelia picked up her cell phone as she ate a breakfast of sugary cereal and strong coffee. Pulled up Everett’s name. Paused.
Trent had no business being on her mind at that moment, but he was. His warnings followed her even though they were ridiculous. He was ridiculous. She shouldn’t even care about what he said, but she did. She missed their friendship, and she hoped that they could mend it, just like she had with Brenda. Hoped she could have her old life, just with Everett snuggled in among it.
She put her phone down on the sky-blue table without calling Everett. Not because of Trent, not fully. It really wasn’t any of his business who she saw on her days off. But she wanted to search more through that flash drive. She and Everett had been documenting it together, but together sometimes they got a little…distracted. And Amelia was anxious to get this done.
As she put her bowl and empty pink mug in the sink, she went back to the same thought that accompanied her constantly lately. Why hadn’t they arrested Brett yet?
Everett was the attorney; he had assured her that he would tell her when it was time, when they had enough on him. But to Amelia, it seemed like they had more than enough, and they kept finding more each day. They documented it diligently, like Everett suggested.
Sure, knowing what they knew about Gabe made it difficult to know what officers they should trust. But there had to be good FBI agents out there. She once was one of them. If they told a bunch, then it wouldn’t be so easily swept under the rug. They could help them sort through all of this. They could arrest Brett. And Amelia wouldn’t have to worry every time she looked at her phone that there would be another call to another crime scene. Another victim failed because they waited too long. Sure, maybe the case could be stronger, but waiting was such a huge risk. Some unknown victim was getting closer to her death.
She trusted Everett and his judgment. She didn’t want to charge Brett too soon, didn’t want to risk this. She certainly didn’t want to trust the wrong FBI agent. But it was getting to her. Maybe it was Trent’s accusations, maybe it was Isabella’s death. But Amelia was ready to wrap this up once and for all. She went up to her study alone and dug right in.
Sometimes looking through all these files took a toll on her. When she found Anna’s picture, for example, that stuck. Other times, like today, it wasn’t so bad. She found huge sums of money again and ledgers that looked like they belonged to someone dabbling in drug smuggling. Was there anything this guy wasn’t into?
And, of course, drugs were serious business. They ripped through lives and left countless bodies behind. In doing this, they would never know the number of people Brett had indirectly murdered. It was tragic.
Yet it was easier to face this, where the victims were faceless, than those photos of women and young girls he’d assaulted.
She diligently researched it, made connections to others who’d been arrested or at least were suspected of dealing drugs, and it grew tedious. Brett had to have his hands in the police department or else there was no way he could’ve gotten away with all of this for so long.
She started to have more faith in Everett again. This was huge, and clearly Brett had a few connections. They had to be careful, and it made her lose a little faith in the system she’d spent her whole life trying to protect and contribute to. Was the justice system really so flawed? Was it truly such a hopeless cause?
No, not hopeless. A little broken, but people like her would fix it. She had to focus on that. She got a little distracted when she stumbled upon a file that seemed innocent enough compared to the other things he’d done, yet it hit her hard. Touched her heart.
For some reason, he’d kept track of all his affairs in the past as well. Names, numbers, photos, dates of when they were supposed to meet, things he’d gathered to blackmail them if they ever considered going to his wife or the press.
It made her sick to see the name of a woman she knew on the police force on the list. It was worse when she paused on her mother’s name. Amelia didn’t even want to know what he had on her, didn’t want to know the details of their affair. Her heart hurt.
How could her mother get drawn in by a monster like him? She knew better. She had taught Amelia to know better. It felt almost like a betrayal. Couldn’t she see the kind of person he
was?
She had to have since she had given Amelia the flash drive. Was this before or after she’d slept with him? What would compel her to ever sleep with a married man? Perhaps she should’ve never forgiven her mother. Perhaps she was worse than Amelia ever imagined.
Amelia stepped back from her computer as anger, confusion, frustration, and sadness all tangoed within her heart. She hated her mother and loved her. Couldn’t process this all now that she was gone, and that was the worst part.
Her mother was gone, forever. She’d have to deal with this alone. She needed to take some time to deal with this. She needed her mother.
As if guided by her mother’s spirit, Amelia left her office and slowly walked up to the attic. This whole house was her mother’s. Everything in it reminded Amelia of her. Yet she still desired a closer connection. The closest she could get now that it was too late to talk to her.
Dust swirled underneath the hanging light. Amelia smiled as she remembered her and her brother playing on the wood floors, racing cars around, cardboard boxes bulging. Discovering old toys her mother had stashed up here because they never played with them anymore. Yet finding them again somehow turned them to gold. They spent hours upon hours on new adventures when he was feeling well enough.
Amelia brushed aside memories of hospital beds, an absent mother, worrying about her brother while feeling jealous of him. Missing him with all her heart once he was no longer there to fight with.
She focused on the attic as it was now. It hadn’t changed very much, though the mess was still there like last time. She hadn’t dared come up since then to clean it up. Now, though, she indulged in the full experience.
She became lost in memories as she dug through old boxes. She wrapped her mother’s baby blanket around her as she found those old toys, yellowed photos, crafts made by tiny hands, evidence of all their firsts. She realized her mother had been paying attention all those years to both of her children. Tears fell as she allowed herself to grieve and love her mother, despite all the things she’d done.
The shock she felt towards finding out about her mother’s connection to Brett subsided under the weight of all those memories of who she knew her mother to be. Not the kind of person who would break up a marriage or protect a terrible man.
Her mother was kind, fiercely protective, compassionate, artistic, determined, always willing to sacrifice herself for her children. She was caring but flawed. Amelia loved her regardless, and she almost left fulfilled now that she had found her mother again. But just before she did, her hands brushed against an old diary she didn’t know her mother had kept.
She paused as she stared down at the worn lilac cover. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to know any more of her mother’s secrets. She finally felt like she was coming to terms with the past, and she didn’t want to ruin that. Didn’t think she could handle any more darkness.
Yet a voice inside urged her to open it. To at least get an idea of what was written. Her hands shook just a little as she turned to the first page. Brett’s name was written on it. She found a comfy place to sit among pillows, blankets, and boxes. Then dug in.
Chapter Thirty-One
Emily
May 24, 1982
I’ve always kept a diary, as I find it most important to keep track of the little things in life. It so often passes us by so quickly that it’s easy to get lost along the way. Yet this one is different from the others. This one will solely be devoted to my dealings with Brett Green. This is because I know he keeps track of every interaction I have with him, and he shouldn’t be the only person to tell this story. I know all he’ll do is twist it.
This man...it shames me to say that I didn’t know what I was getting into when I first met this man. I was naïve, stupid, foolish. Too many dreams in my head blocked me from seeing the truth. But now I know. And I want to run to someone, anyone, and share everything I know. But I’m afraid, I hate to admit it. I’m afraid. He’s made it clear how many powerful friends he has, and I don’t know who to turn to. So, I’ll write it down for now until I find the right time to expose him. Until I give up all this information to someone I truly believe in and trust.
Before I get ahead of myself though, I suppose I should start at the beginning. Of how I first met him and everything. Well, it was at a bar. At a gig I was playing for the night. Barely got paid anything but exposure, and I was so desperate working as a waitress and a housekeeper just to pay the bills. I’d take anything I could get. I still dreamed I would make it big, as long as I kept trying. So, try I did.
It’s funny because all along I hoped to meet someone like him when I accepted gigs like this. But that night it didn’t even cross my mind that someone important might be there. The bar was small, grimy, sparsely populated with the darker side of society.
I hated it. Hated the smell of booze and grease, the look in men’s eyes as they approached the women. The look of hungry desperation on the women’s faces. A look that I could relate to far too well.
But it wasn’t like I had a lot of options. No one cares about you until you catch the eye of someone important. So, I played my guitar in that dim light, focused on the song I’d written. I gave it my all as I always did and got lost in the music. That has always been what was most important.
Scattered applause followed. I packed up my stuff, eager to leave. I was just about ready to go when he approached me.
“You have a rare gift,” he said. “That was truly stunning. Are you represented by anyone?”
“Do you think if I was, I’d be playing here?” I scoffed. He laughed, and it made the night a little better.
“I suppose not. I’m Brett Green.” He offered his hand, and I thought I was being tricked. I’d heard of him up and coming on the music scene. There was no way he’d be here talking to me. “I’d love to talk to you about your career over drinks sometime. Would that be something you’re okay with?”
And like I said, I didn’t think it was him for real, but imagine if it was and I said no? How foolish would that be? So I agreed. We set up a time and a place, and I went right home and did a little research into Brett Green. Confirmed that the man I had talked to was in fact that country music star and I bet you can guess how happy I was. How lucky I felt.
I kept waiting for things to fall apart. I kept thinking that maybe he wouldn’t show up to our meeting. Maybe he’d change his mind. Maybe he was doing this all to mess with me.
Still, I went, and he was everything I’d dreamed. He offered to get me in contact with his agent, to introduce me to all the right people. I asked him why he would do this for me, and he told me it was because he believed in me. When he listened to me that night, he heard raw talent, and he wanted to help nurture that. Bring it to the world.
I know what you’re probably thinking right about now, and that’s a reasonable thought to have. But I didn’t think that way back then. I was young, dumb, and I wanted that big break so bad that I ignored all the red flags. Believed everything he said. It was the biggest mistake I ever made, but not at first.
No, at first it was great. He did get me signed with his agent and he even mentored me himself, gave me singing and guitar lessons. He helped me book better gigs, ones I never could’ve dreamed of getting on my own. I landed a high-paying record deal and my career as a musician was taking off. It’s still incredible, everything I ever could’ve dreamed of.
Yet I’ve learned it comes at a price, and perhaps if I had known from the start, I wouldn’t have paid it. I would’ve worked my way up like I was trying to do. I wouldn’t have gone to that bar. But now…now I have so much to lose.
You see, it’s harder, I think, when you have fans, money, a lavish house, the best friends, get invited to the most exclusive parties. It’s harder when the music becomes intertwined with everything else. You think you know your boundaries, but you don’t. You don’t know how you’ll react when everything most important to you is on the line, until it is.
I think that’s why
he chose last night. It was after the largest show I played so far, with my own fans. An opening act just for me. I was elated as the pieces of my dream-come-true settled on my skin like glitter.
Brett hosted an after-party, which wasn’t unusual. I’d gone to many with him and his wife, Melinda. She’s always been talked about so favorably. She’s creative in her own way, has her own clothing line. People have said that she’s charitable, kind. She was never kind to me. Never outwardly cruel, but a bit cautious. Now I know why.
Melinda wasn’t at the party last night. She doesn’t always come to them, so that wasn’t too strange, either. I drank champagne, but not enough to get drunk. Flirted and danced with this handsome singer with blonde hair and the most gorgeous baby blue eyes. Until Brett interrupted us.
He told me that he had someone important for me to meet and I believed him. Trusted him. This wasn’t the first time, and everyone he introduced me to had been helpful to my career so far, so I followed him. Up white marble stairs, into a door on the third floor, well away from the party.
He led me into this stunning crimson and gold suite. I thought whoever it was had to be important. So, it was only a little odd when he locked the door behind us. It didn’t really faze me.
Then, he moved towards me in a slow, calculated manner. The look in his eyes…if I’d ever seen it before, I had ignored it. Couldn’t ignore it now. He was a predator. I was his vulnerable prey.
As I backed away, he walked quicker. Grabbed my wrist. Moved closer to me. There was champagne on his breath.
“Baby,” he whispered. It was the loudest word I’d ever heard. “Don’t act so shy now. You know we’ve grown closer. I always knew there was something special in you, from the first time I saw you. Your body and soul called to me. I’ve given you so much since then. Don’t you think it’s time to give me what I deserve?”
I know, I was dumb, but I didn’t think my career came with strings. I didn’t realize until it was too late, the price I’d have to pay. I backed up into a gold dresser. He pushed his body against mine and I panicked.
The Darkest Secrets Page 17
