I Know What You Did

by N L Hinkens

  I Know What You Did

  A psychological suspense thriller

  N L Hinkens

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Afterword

  Biography

  Also by N L Hinkens

  Books by Norma Hinkens

  1

  Jo Murphy was losing her husband piece-by-piece. One day, one argument, one miscarriage at a time. Either that, or she was losing her mind. For the first time in her life she was at an impasse. Accomplishing whatever she applied herself to had always come easy to her, which made it that much more infuriating to be cheated out of this one thing that meant so much.

  Three days earlier, a tiny heart inside her had thumped with life. Today, her womb was empty and her own heart full of a gnawing grief that her husband, Liam, couldn’t fully grasp. She’d whispered to the jellybean person inside her, planned for his or her arrival just in time for Christmas, dreamed of a bright future filled with birthday cakes and playdates, and come up with a dozen different possible name combinations. The counselor side of her knew it was irrational to feel angry that Liam didn’t seem overly sad about losing another baby. But he wasn’t the one coping with the hormone crash that followed each miscarriage and left behind a chaotic tangle of dark emotions that devoured her reason, and consumed her soul. She would do anything to have a child—anything at all.

  It was the doctor’s loaded silence in the moment before he cleared his throat that shattered her dream of becoming a mother yet again. He expressed his sympathy in hushed tones, then swiftly moved on to explain her options for removing and disposing of the “clinical waste” that remained—a medical verdict reducing her child to a hazmat cleanup operation. A verdict she didn’t want to accept.

  “We’ll keep trying, Jo,” her husband whispered as he helped her to her feet.

  Leaning on Liam’s arm, she’d stumbled out of the gynecologist’s pastel peach office and along the corridor of shame, as she’d come to regard it, hung with oversized canvasses of blooming flowers with babies tucked among their petals, past the front reception desk and the cork board teeming with dog-eared photos of gummy newborns, and through the waiting room full of flushed mothers-to-be exchanging congratulatory smiles as they patted and hugged the lives inside them—oblivious to the dead husk of a baby that Jo was carrying. For once, she'd managed to hold back her tears until she reached the car.

  The drama had become too repetitive to recount in any great detail to her inner circle, a bomb of bad news that made everyone uncomfortable. So she opted to grieve alone this time, the haunting static noise from the fetal monitor on a continual loop in her head, while Facebook mercilessly shoved ads for maternity wear into her newsfeed at every opportunity.

  Back at her desk at Emmetville High on Monday morning, she exhaled a shuddering breath as she switched on her computer. Liam hadn’t wanted her to return to work right away, but this was the one place where she was still in control. She was a lot better at her job as a school counselor than carrying babies as it turned out.

  “Morning, Jo!” Robbie Gleeson, the AP chemistry teacher, stuck his head inside her office and wiggled his brows in an attempt at humor. “I won’t assume it’s a good one yet—too early to come to that conclusion. Can I grab you a coffee?”

  She gave a tight, plastic smile that felt more like a portal to her pain than a cheery greeting. “Thanks, Robbie, I could use a strong one.”

  “You got it!” He disappeared down the corridor, whistling loudly, his footsteps echoing after him on the tile floor. Robbie, and his wife, Sarah—who taught AP studio art—had become close friends over the past year. Jo had been tempted on more than one occasion to share the agony of her miscarriages with them. But Liam, who worked as an independent computer network specialist and serviced the school’s account, didn’t want her work colleagues privy to their fertility struggles.

  “It’s emasculating, Jo. You don’t understand.”

  “How’s it emasculating?” Her tone wavered between incredulous and frustrated. “I’m the one who can’t carry a pregnancy to term.”

  “Yeah, but it amounts to the same thing. I’m forty-one and still don’t have kids. The thought of walking a gauntlet of pitying faces every time I show up on your campus makes me cringe.”

  Jo grimaced inwardly at the ominous reminder that their fertility clock was ticking. Her greatest fear was that Liam would walk away when her time ran out. She knew it was unfounded, but she couldn’t shake the angst that had set in her brain like fast-curing cement. Even if Liam wasn’t intentionally trying to make her feel worse than she already did, it didn’t change the hard facts. She was almost thirty-nine—a combined total of eighty years between them. It didn’t take a seasoned gambler to recognize that the odds against them were mounting. She was becoming increasingly desperate with each passing day.

  Her archaic computer booted up just as Robbie reappeared with two paper cups of steaming black coffee. He plopped one on the desk in front of Jo and sank down in the creaky, tufted seat opposite her. “So, how was your weekend?”

  Jo tried to give a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, you know, so-so.”

  “So-so?” Robbie slurped his coffee without taking his eyes off her. “Sounds more like a Monday. That can’t be good.”

  Jo pushed her glasses up her nose and managed a wan smile. “Just got some family stuff going on. That’s all.”

  Robbie ran a hand through his thick, dirty blond hair. “Are you and Liam all right?”

  “Of course.” She averted her gaze from his scrutiny. “We just … see things differently at times.”

  Robbie weighed this for a moment and then nodded thoughtfully. “You’re intuitive, and Liam’s more of a linear thinker, like me. Us left-brained types need to stick together. I swear, you creatives have psychic instincts or something.”

  Jo laughed despite herself. “You hold your own just fine.”

  “I give it my best shot. Why can’t couples argue in equations or something that makes sense to me?” He let out an exaggerated groan. “All joking aside, if you want to talk about it, Sarah and I are here for you.”

  “Thanks, Robbie, I appreciate that, I really do. But you know Liam’s a very private person, and—"

  “Understood. Say no more.” Robbie got to his feet and raised his half-full cup in a parting toast. “To a productive morning. I have an atomic theory quiz to put up on the board before my comatose students start rolling in. See you at lunch if they haven’t gassed me out with body odors before then.”

  With a final wave, he strolled out of the office swinging his weathered briefcase. Jo settled back in her chair as he retreated down the corridor. Robbie was a good sort, always trying to make her laugh and lift her spirits. She hated having to lie to him, but Liam was right to be wary about sharing their problems with work colleagues. She wasn’t strong enough emotionally to withstand a barrage of well-meaning questions about the i
nfertility wasteland they seemed destined to camp out in. Besides, Robbie and Sarah were a good decade younger and wouldn’t understand her all-consuming yearning to have a child.

  She took a generous swig of her coffee before pulling up her daily calendar on the computer and viewing her appointments. She’d scheduled meetings with several students who were struggling in their classes. One of them in particular concerned her. She tapped the end of her pen distractedly on her desk. Mia Allen was a popular senior and varsity tennis player who was due to graduate in a couple of months. She’d been dating the football captain, Noah Tomaselli, for the past year, and, by any standards, they made a striking couple. Broody, olive-skinned, six-foot-four Noah was the campus stud. With a head of rich, dark curls and permanent five-o’clock shadow his Italian features contrasted dramatically with Mia’s sleek, waist-length, blonde locks. They were both bright students, but lately, Mia’s grades had slipped and several of her teachers had expressed concern.

  Jo welcomed the challenge of getting to the bottom of whatever was bothering the girl. Focusing on someone else’s issues would take her mind off her own troubles for a bit and, hopefully, dull the feelings of failure and despair that corroded her insides while she fought to hold it together on the outside. She drained the last of her coffee and tossed the empty paper cup in the trash can under her desk, grateful for the caffeine jolt.

  A rap on the door made her look up. She smiled and slipped into her professional demeanor with practiced ease. “Come in, Mia. Sit down, please.”

  Mia Allen hitched up one side of her glossy, bow-shaped lips in a half-hearted greeting as she sank down in the seat Robbie had occupied moments earlier. Her big blue eyes swept the room disparagingly before settling on Jo. “You wanted to see me.” She teased a hand lazily through her hair, looking as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Her tone verged on bored, but Jo was experienced enough to pick up on the strained note in her voice. Something was nagging at her.

  “Yes, I did. Thanks for coming in early. I wanted to talk with you before the day gets underway.”

  Mia shrugged and examined an imaginary chip on her flawless fingernail.

  Sensing a wall of resistance, Jo slipped into camaraderie mode. “Hard to believe the school year’s almost over. Are you looking forward to graduating?”

  Mia’s eyes narrowed. An awkward pause ensued before she tilted a penciled brow in faux confusion. “Isn’t everyone?”

  Steeling herself, Jo plowed on. “Have you chosen a college yet, and a major?”

  Mia’s long lashes fluttered, a shrewd look in her eyes. “I’m … undecided.”

  “About going to university or what to study?”

  “Both.”

  Jo frowned. “I’m disappointed to hear that. You’re one of our most promising seniors, but your grades have been on a downward spiral lately.”

  Mia twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Everyone’s uptight about finals.”

  “But not everyone’s grades are slipping. Is there something going on that you want to talk about?” Jo leaned across the desk, lowering her voice to a level of respectful compassion. “Maybe something at home, or between you and Noah?”

  Mia scowled. “What makes you think it has anything to do with him?”

  Jo leaned back in her chair, momentarily taken aback at the terse reaction. Evidently, she’d touched a sore spot.

  “Anything you say to me in here is confidential,” Jo went on. “I’m pretty good at helping students find solutions to their problems, especially the tough ones. There’s not much I haven’t encountered. Bullying, substance abuse—“

  Mia exhaled a sharp breath. “I’m not a pothead, Mrs. Murphy!”

  “No, I didn’t think so. But obviously something’s bothering you, and it’s my job to help you.”

  Mia’s eyes fluttered to catlike slits, studying Jo’s face as if trying to gauge her trustworthiness. “I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

  “Go on,” Jo urged gently.

  Mia wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I’m not sure I should be talking about it with a school counselor.”

  “Why, is it illegal? Did you see another student do something you’re afraid to report?”

  Mia snorted a laugh. “No, nothing like that. Just … an annoying problem.”

  “What is it then? I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  Mia darted a glance to the glass door as a shadow walked by. She lowered her voice. “The thing is, Mrs. Murphy, I’m pregnant.”

  2

  “I can’t keep it.” Mia’s gaze drilled into Jo. “I have to get rid of it. Will you help me?”

  Goosebumps prickled along Jo’s arms like maggots writhing under her skin. Her hands shook, and she hurriedly pulled them out of sight beneath the desk. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. She’d promised to help Mia, but she hadn’t expected this.

  Shock detonated through her heart, but it was only a small component of what she was feeling. She was also fighting a rising tide of white-hot anger. Anger that this gorgeous girl sitting opposite her, who already had everything at her polished fingertips, now had a baby growing inside her. An annoying problem she didn’t want. Just another bonus bestowed on her charmed existence. A triple play on the lottery of life that had also graced her with enviable looks and brains in equal measures.

  A serpent-like jealousy twisted in Jo’s gut, melding with the physical pain until she couldn’t tell which was tormenting her more. She sucked in a tiny breath, fighting to keep her composure. Her work and her personal life weren’t supposed to intersect like this. The wounds inside her were too raw, too fresh to ignore as Mia’s words raked over them. Her request for help was like a trigger opening the dam, and now the emotions swirling and seething inside Jo were making her head spin, causing her mood to plummet once again to the ugly depths where her miscarriages lay buried.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Murphy?” Mia peered at her, sounding more peeved at being ignored than concerned that her counselor might be on the verge of passing out.

  Jo blinked and passed a hand over her forehead. “Uh, yes. Sorry, Mia. Just a dizzy spell.”

  The sound of footsteps and voices in the corridor began to swell as students made their way to their first classes of the morning. Mia threw a harried look at the closed door. “So, will you help me?”

  Jo cleared her throat in an effort to steady her voice. “What about Noah? Are you going to tell him?”

  “No. I don’t want him involved. If he tells his parents, they might try and talk me into keeping it, and that’s not an option as far as I’m concerned.”

  Jo cringed inwardly at the words flung carelessly across the desk at her. Mia was talking about a living, growing human person as if it were a wart. Why couldn’t she have been the one to miscarry and have the clinical waste that remained suctioned out of her? See how she liked it when she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Jo should be the one still carrying her baby. She’d always been immeasurably grateful for the potential gift of a child. She settled her glasses farther down her nose and forced herself to look at Mia. “How far along are you?”

  “Seven or eight weeks, I think.” She twisted her lips. “I should have taken care of it by now, but I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “You did the right thing to ask for help.” Jo leaned across the desk and squeezed Mia’s hand, her training kicking in despite the raging cauldron of emotions searing her heart. “Do your parents know you’re pregnant?”

  Mia shook her head. “They’re separated. I live with my mom, but I can’t tell her. She’d kill me, literally.”

  Jo hesitated, contemplating Mia’s words. Her heart thundered in her chest as a radical idea took shape.

  3

  Jo leaned back in her chair, her heartbeat booming inside her chest. The dark void inside her harbored a flicker of hope. What if she and Liam adopted Mia’s baby? It would be the perfect solution for eve
ryone involved. The thought of aborting a child genetically predisposed to be beautiful, smart, and talented was abhorrent. And even if the child was none of those things, Mia’s and Noah’s baby shouldn’t be denied the chance to live. Jo would love it regardless of any defects. There was no sacrifice she wasn’t willing to make to be a mother. She took a quick steadying breath and then dove in before she could second-guess herself. “There are other options, Mia. Adoption, for example. Your baby would be loved by a couple who—“ Her voice caught in her throat and she coughed to cover up the emotion threatening to betray her. “Your baby would be brought up by parents who loved and wanted it, and you wouldn’t have to live with any regrets.”

  Mia traced her slender fingertips across her brow, a perturbed frown forming on her flawless skin. “I … don’t want to do anything I might cringe over later, but I can't let anyone at school find out I’m pregnant. I feel so stupid for letting this happen.”

  Jo pasted on a suitably sympathetic expression. Inwardly, her resentment was building. Maybe an abortion was just a cringeworthy moment in time to Mia, but she hadn’t been on the infertility side of the equation where every week in the womb was its own miracle. Beneath the desk, Jo squeezed her fingers tightly together. Her pulse fluttered as she wrestled for a moment with the idea of stepping outside of ethical boundaries. It was now or never. Everything happened for a reason. Maybe this was meant to be.

  “No one in school has to know you’re pregnant,” she said, lowering her voice to a confidential whisper. “You’ll have graduated before you’re even showing.”