All my love,
Shannon
Two weeks later Shannon wrote again.
My darling Tom,
When you said we should stop seeing each other, I told you it wouldn’t work. I know you don’t want to hurt Kathryn and Steve, but we are hurting them more by not telling them the truth. We belong together. You know that.
All my love,
Shannon
Kathryn thought back to January 2012. Tom had been very stressed, and he’d kept himself locked away in his office at work or in his office at home. He hadn’t had much to say, and there had been no sex, but there had been no sign of Shannon, either. When she had brought up the subject of Shannon and Steve, he’d told her angrily he didn’t want to discuss it. He’d seemed like a kettle about to boil over all month long, but she’d attributed that to his feverish preparations for the Pepe Jackson capital murder trial that had been starting on February 6. Pepe was on trial for his life for killing a police officer, but Tom had believed Pepe when he said he had acted in self-defense. The officer who pulled him over for a burned-out tail light had ordered Pepe out of the car, put his gun to Pepe’s head, and threatened to kill him for being poor and black. Certain he was about to die, Pepe went for the gun and fired at the officer. The police community would be furious if Pepe wasn’t convicted, but forensic evidence told Tom his client was innocent. Then, just before the trial began, he’d been diagnosed with hypertension. Kathryn had thought it was the stress of defending an innocent client in a high-profile murder trial where the client likely would be convicted regardless of the evidence because he was poor and black.
The next letter had been written on February 23.
My darling Tom,
I can’t tell you what it meant to spend last Monday with you. A whole day together! I wish you had court holidays more often. But more than that, I wish you would just decide we should tell Kathryn and Steve the truth.
All my love,
Shannon
That Monday would have been President’s Day since it was the third Monday in February. So Tom had lied to her. He’d told her he was going to the office to work on his cross-examinations in the Jackson case. But in truth, he’d spent the day with Shannon.
On March 30, 2012, Shannon wrote again.
My darling Tom,
I know Paul told you to wait six months and think things over before telling Kathryn and Steve. But Paul was wrong. We shouldn’t have to wait. We belong together now.
All my love,
Shannon
A slow tide of anger seeped in through her fingers as they held the letter. It traveled up her arms and spread through her entire body. Paul had lied to her last night. The most important piece of comfort she’d received since Tom’s death had turned out to be a monstrous falsehood.
The last letter was written on April 30, exactly three weeks before Tom had gotten sick.
My darling Tom,
Please don’t listen to Paul anymore. He wants you to think fifteen years of marriage can make up for growing apart. But you know it can’t. Kathryn wants children. You don’t. And I don’t. Kathryn has never been able to share the peace of the ocean and surfing with you. But I can. And I do. Don’t listen to Paul. He’s unhappy with Carolyn and afraid to leave her because of Jodie. He wants you to be unhappy, too. We can’t wait any longer to tell Steve and Kathryn.
All my love,
Shannon
Kathryn gathered up the letters and put them in her purse. It was five-thirty, and she wasn’t supposed to be at Paul’s until seven, but she didn’t want to wait. Or take time to change clothes. It no longer mattered that she was wearing jeans and a sweater and didn’t have on any makeup. The only thing that mattered was confronting Paul.
* * *
Saturday, September 20, 2014, 817 First Street, Coronado, California
“Oh, my God, he kept those!” Paul said when she threw the letters at him.
She had come raging through his front door like a spitfire bent on vengeance.
“You lied to me!”
He looked up from re-reading the letters. “Not entirely. You were Tom’s only love.”
“Not according to those letters.”
“Look, Shannon wrote these. She was putting her spin on the situation, trying to get what she wanted.”
“And what she wanted was my husband! Why did you lie to me?”
“Let’s go into the kitchen and make dinner like we planned, and I’ll try to explain.”
“I don’t want to eat! I can’t eat! I’m too upset. I trusted you, Paul. Why did you lie to me?”
“Well, at least let me pour you a glass of wine, and we’ll sit on the deck and talk.”
“Okay.”
She swept ahead of him through the house and planted herself in one of the chairs overlooking the bay. For a moment she forgot about being angry when he came through the door with two glasses of wine. The jeans and gray hoodie made her remember the day they’d met in contracts class. She had definitely been interested, until she’d met Tom.
“Here.” He handed her the glass and sat down in the chair beside hers. “I’ll start by explaining why I lied.”
“Okay.”
“Tom came to me after he got that March letter. He told me about Steve’s marriage proposal, about the way Shannon had reacted, and about all the time he’d spent with her since. Steve had stopped surfing with them.
“He said he’d started out trying to help Shannon see that Steve was the best choice for her. He knew how much Steve loved her, and he wanted them to get together. He thought if Shannon cried on his shoulder, he’d have a chance to put in a good word for Steve.”
“But he didn’t do that, did he?”
“Oh, he did. Quite a lot of words, in fact. But the more good things he said about Steve, the more Shannon’s attitude against him hardened. Tom realized if Steve had any chance at all with Shannon, Tom was going to have to keep his mouth shut about him.”
“Then what happened?”
“Shannon went after Tom as hard as she could, pressing him to leave you.”
“Was he going to leave me?”
“No.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Because he didn’t leave you.”
“But he thought about it, didn’t he?”
Paul’s silence fueled her rage.
“Tell me the truth. He thought about it, didn’t he?”
“He felt guilty because he knew you were disappointed that he no longer wanted children. He wondered if you would be happier starting over with someone who wanted a family.”
“So he did think of leaving me for Shannon!”
“He thought about a lot of things that winter, Kathryn. He was under enormous pressure from the Pepe Jackson case. You know that. He wasn’t thinking clearly. His blood pressure was high, and he didn’t feel well. That’s why, when he came to me, I told him not to do anything rash. I figured when the trial was over, he’d feel better and be able to see things clearly again.”
“The Pepe Jackson trial ended in early March. And Shannon was still writing letters in late March and April.”
“Look, I can’t tell you everything that was in Tom’s head that winter and spring. He was stressed and tired and hurt and confused. Deep down, I knew he didn’t love Shannon. Not the way he loved you.”
“Did Steve know?”
“Not that Shannon had her sights set on Tom. He knew she was hesitant about marriage. Shannon’s a bartender and a flirt, and some man somewhere is always after her.”
“Why did she keep on living with Steve if she wanted Tom?”
“She moved out of Steve’s place in late January. Didn’t you know?”
Kathryn felt as if she’d been hit by a rock. “No. I knew Steve had stopped surfing with them in the mornings, but I didn’t know Shannon had gotten a place of her own. That gave her more chances to see Tom alone, didn’t it?”
“Look, Kathryn, don’t tormen
t yourself. It’s in the past. Tom didn’t leave you even if he spent some time with Shannon that winter.”
“He used to go over there at night during the Jackson trial, didn’t he? He’d tell me he was preparing for trial, but he was with Shannon, wasn’t he?”
“I don’t know all the details. Tom has always known how much I care about you, and he was ashamed of what he was doing. He wouldn’t have ended it with you, Kathryn. I know that. Read Shannon’s last letter. She was desperate at that point because she had begun to realize he wasn’t in love with her.”
“Who else knew about Shannon and Tom?”
“Just me.”
Kathryn put down her empty wine glass on the small table between them and stood up. All her good feelings from the night before had vanished. “I’m not staying for dinner.”
He put his glass down and stood, too, as he tried to put his arms around her.
“Don’t!”
“Please stay.”
“I can’t.” She had tears in her eyes. “Everything I believed in has been blown to bits. And the worst part is, I trusted you; but you knew the truth and never told me.”
“But what good would it have done?” He demanded, his voice beginning to rise to match hers. “What if I had broken Tom’s confidence and come to you with these letters? Would it have changed anything?”
She wiped her eyes and shook her head. “No, I guess not. I always suspected the two of them, but it was better when I couldn’t prove anything.”
“And there was nothing to prove, Kathryn! He didn’t leave you. I keep telling you, he didn’t love Shannon. He wasn’t going to leave you.”
She shook her head again. “I’ll never know the truth.”
“Don’t make yourself unhappy. The truth is he stayed with you.”
“But what if he hadn’t gotten sick? What if he was planning to leave when he got sick?”
“He wasn’t planning to leave.”
“You don’t know that for sure. I’ve got to go. I need to be alone. I need to think.”
“I understand. But think about forgiving me because I love you. And I want your future and my future to be together.”
“I don’t see how I could ever trust you, Paul. Maybe you had a reason to keep Shannon and Tom from me when he was alive. You were his friend. He confided in you. But after he died? Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“You mean tell my best friend’s grieving widow that her husband had a few months out of their fifteen-year marriage when he wasn’t sure what he wanted? What good would that have done? Losing Tom was enough of a blow. Why make it worse with something that never happened?”
She shivered in the deepening dusk. She remained stubborn. “I think you should have told me.”
“Look, Kathryn, all this is in the past. As much as it hurts, you need to let go and move on. Tom isn’t here any more. You are. And I am.”
“I’m going.”
“Wait!” He reached out and touched her arm. “There’s one more thing. It’s just practical lawyer advice.”
“I’m listening.”
“Hugh Mahoney has radar for emotional conflict. He told Mark Kelly he thought you were hiding something from them about your marriage when they prepped you for your deposition. Mark took me out for a beer to pump me for information.”
A look of horror came over Kathryn’s face. “So they know, too?”
“No, of course not. There was no reason to tell them. I told Mark that Hugh was imagining things. Wycliffe has no way of finding out that there was anything between Tom and Shannon. You can say under oath your marriage was fine. And it was.”
“Wycliffe could find out if they could find Shannon.”
“But they don’t even know who she is. And if they did turn up her name, it would be as Steve’s girlfriend. Trust me, Kathryn, it was never what you imagined it to be between Tom and Shannon. Never.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sunday, September 21, 2014, 1845 Ocean Place, Pacific Beach
Kathryn drifted in and out of sleep although the sun was streaming in through her bedroom window. Her mouth was dry, and her head was pounding. She didn’t want to admit even to herself she had a hangover. She reached over and patted Tom’s side of the bed and smiled when it was empty. He was already up and had gone out with his board.
And then the sickening memories flooded in. Tom was dead. And if he hadn’t been, he’d have been in the waves with Shannon, who could no longer pretend she did not love him.
And the man she’d brought home last night to punish Tom for Shannon and who should have been on Tom’s side of the bed was already gone.
* * *
Saturday, September 20, 2014, Half Moon Bar in Pacific Beach, 11 p.m.
She had slammed Paul’s front door behind her and blazed back across the bridge, nearing ninety miles an hour. She hurried into the house and poured herself a glass of her usual cheap wine. The clock in the kitchen said seven-thirty. Her mind was whirling. Thoughts tumbled together so rapidly she had no time to focus on one before another took its place. She paced the living room, absorbed by grief and fury, for more than an hour. The two men she loved most in the world had betrayed her. She longed for the days when she hadn’t known the truth about Shannon and Tom, when she’d been able to allow herself to accept Tom’s explanations. As much as she didn’t want to admit Paul might have been right about his decision to lie to her, she could see how comfortable life had been before the tsunami of truth had washed her into the depths of grief once more.
The walls of the cottage began to close in on her despair as she paced and thought of all the lonely nights she’d spent waiting up for Tom in February, March, and April of that last year. He’d insisted he had to work, and she’d watched the hands of the clock pass midnight and then one a.m. and then one-thirty, night after night, before she’d heard his key in the front door. He’d slept in the guest room on a lot of those nights, using as an excuse his reluctance to risk waking her.
Finally, when she couldn’t stand the thought of Shannon and Tom anymore, she showered, changed, put on her makeup, and walked up to the Half Moon Bar on Garnet Avenue. She plunked herself on a stool, and ordered an extra large glass of red wine. Then she turned to observe the partiers thronging the main floor.
A wave of disappointment washed over her. The men were all too young for what she had in mind. Somewhere in her grief-wracked brain she had formed the intention of finding a hookup. She’d been faithful to Tom for seventeen years, but now all she wanted was to pay him back for his infidelity. Unfortunately, the dance floor was full of college kids.
And then her luck changed. She felt a pair of eyes on her and turned to see a handsome, dark-haired man lounging on a stool farther down the bar. He looked to be close to her own age; and, unlike the board-shorted males throughout the bar, he was wearing a professional, casual navy sport coat and tan slacks. He gave her a mischievous grin and pointed to the empty stool next to her with a questioning look. She smiled and nodded, and a few seconds later he came to sit beside her with a drink that she assumed was scotch.
“Dan Ayers. Sorry if I was staring, but you look so lovely in that dress.”
“Kathryn Andrews,” she smiled. Even if the pick-up line was cheesy, she wanted herself and her deep green wool dress to be admired.
“Are you from San Diego?” he asked.
She nodded, throwing all caution to the wind even though she realized the alcohol was starting to overtake her judgment. “I live a few blocks away. What about you?”
“I’m from Seattle. I’m a computer software engineer and an attorney. My firm represents a software development company here in town. I came down to do some work for them and wound up staying over tonight because my flight got cancelled.”
“Bet the wife or the girlfriend was disappointed.”
He grinned broadly. “I have neither. What about you? A teacher, I bet. No, a college professor. You have that beautiful, but intellectual, air. And where’s y
our significant other?”
“I’m a lawyer, too. A public defender for the last seventeen years. And my husband passed away two years ago last month.”
His face softened. “Sorry. Hey, I have an idea. You look as if you could use some fun. Let’s dance and eat and hang out, and never once mention the law.”
“Deal!” She was overjoyed.
The music had softened and lost its frantic beat. Dan led her onto the dance floor where colored lights raked softly over the dancers. Kathryn let him pull her close and laid her head on his shoulder as they moved around and around under the shifting rainbows.
When they stopped the music at midnight, Dan insisted on buying one last round of drinks and appetizers. Under the spell of the wine she had already drunk and the romantic music, Kathryn agreed. They chose a small table in the back of the bar where they laughed and drank red wine and ate greasy cheese quesadillas with red salsa.
When they finished, it was one a.m.
“I’m not letting you walk home alone,” Dan said. “My rental car is parked a block away. I’ll drive you.”
Kathryn smiled and nodded, happy to be with him a little longer; and when he stopped in front of the cottage, she invited him in.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. This is my first even kind-of date since–well, you know. Come celebrate with me.” She heard the alcohol talking, and she didn’t care.
He followed her inside but put his arms around her in the hall before she could turn on the light. He pulled her close and gave her a long, long kiss. Every part of her wanted only one thing.
She led him down the hall to her bedroom, all without turning on the lights. She started to unzip her dress, but he reached out and stopped her.
“Wait. One thing before we do this.”
The Death of Distant Stars, A Legal Thriller Page 16
