by JA Huss
He takes it, studies it, and then looks at Kristi like he’s trying to make a decision. “They’re not here,” he finally says. “They’re on vacation.”
Kristi straightens her shoulders and tips her chin up, steeling herself to be brave. “I’m not here to see them. Now open the fucking gate.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He retreats back into the guard house. The barrier lifts and our way forward opens up. Kristi buzzes her window up and drives off.
“What was that all about?” I ask. “You really grew up here?”
“Yes. My grandparents owned it, then when they died five years ago, the ownership was split up between me, my brother, and my parents.” She looks over at me. “My partial ownership is the only reason I’m allowed to be here right now. I’m what you call the black sheep.”
I have to admit, that surprises me. Perfect Kristi is the black sheep? “How? Why?”
She shakes her head. “It’s a long story. I wanted my wedding to be in Vegas on the off-chance my parents would actually show up, but”—she looks over at me—“I guess that was a huge fail, right?”
I slump back into my seat. Her disappointment fills me up and makes me weary. I’m not the only one with problems. I sometimes forget that fact. This is how I get when I’m Daisy instead of Grace. I start thinking that I own the title of Girl with the World’s Biggest Problems.
That’s why I changed my name and started a new life. Daisy is a victim. Daisy is weak, and sick, and pathetic. Grace is graceful. Grace is strong, and determined, and brave. I’ve tried so hard to put my past away. Just lock it up and forget about it. Be the new girl. Be Grace.
But this today… I just don’t know what it might mean. Will I ever be able to go back to being just Grace? Will I have to be Daisy again? Will I be some very fucked-up version of both of them?
I just don’t know.
The road winds a little and there are thick patches of juniper and spruce trees, so when we finally round a corner and the resort comes into view, I’m breathless. I drop the pity party and take it all in. “Wow. It’s stunning.” There’s a huge lake, man-made obviously, surrounded by a scattering of bungalows. The main building is a Santa Fe-style adobe, with a large terrace filled with empty tables. A café, I realize.
We pull up to the valet area, but no one comes to take our car. Kristi shuts the engine down and we just sit for a moment. “I knew they would be gone, I guess. What did I expect?” She looks over at me and a tear slips down her cheek. “They close the place down every year at this time so they can travel. So I planned the wedding during vacation and sent the invitation. Hoping, ya know?”
I nod. Because I get it. I get that desperation, that one last grab for love and acceptance. I had friends and relatives back in my hometown, but half of them thought I was guilty at first. And I can’t live with people who think I could’ve done what I was accused of. The other half kept pestering me for ‘my story’. They wanted me to talk to the media. Get paid for interviews. Write a book about my experience.
Use me. They wanted to use me. So I pulled back, severed all ties, and boxed that life up and packed it away. And ever since then I’ve had this wall around me. Oh, it’s transparent, people get in, but there’s a limit as to how close. Even Bebe. When I think about it, I’m a little bit ashamed that I never told her everything. I know she’d be there for me. But when you’re safe, why invite the danger in?
I guess I can relate to Vaughn in that respect. He has his own wall. No authentic relationships. And if I had been honest with him about… well, pretty much anything… then he’d have bounced that question right back to me.
Because all my relationships are fake too.
The temperature in the car is rising fast, and the rush of hot wind as Kristi opens her door draws me back to my reality. We’re on the run and now we’re stopped. Decisions have to be made. “So what are we doing here, Kristi? Do you have keys to get in?”
She’s wringing her hands in her lap with worry. “My brother is here. He was going to come to the wedding, but I called him last night and talked to him for a long time and he…”
I suddenly have a vision of Vaughn and his sister on her wedding night. How she went to him to confide her fears. How he was afraid of influencing her. “What did he say?” I ask. I need to know. I need to know this so badly because it’s just not fair that I don’t have a big brother to call for help. “What did he tell you?”
“He told me to come home and he’d make it all better.” And then Kristi looks past me and a sob escapes. I turn to find what’s grabbed her attention, and there he is. Her brother. Standing there in the huge doorway that leads into the lobby.
He smiles at her and she’s out of the car so fast, running into his arms, I am left confused and feeling out of place. I’m spying on that private moment again. The one where people have actual blood relatives who love them. The one where little sisters get to run to big brothers and get everything they need in a hug. The one I wish for so badly it makes my chest hurt.
Kristi’s brother embraces her and all those saved-up sobs come pouring out.
I get out of the car and wander up to them. He is whispering softly to Kristi now, telling her all the things a woman needs to hear after she runs out on her wedding day. And then he notices me for the first time and gives me a smile as well. He’s obviously older—the small lines around his eyes tell me that. And he’s nice-looking. Rugged and rustic. Like he’s lived on a desert ranch his whole life. He’s wearing jeans, not shorts, which, when paired with the boots, makes him look a little bit cowboy. The white t-shirt is now stained with Kristi’s make-up and he notices me staring at it and laughs. “You’re ruining my shirt, Krissy! You didn’t say you were bringing a friend. I’m Jack,” he says, peeling an arm from around Kristi to extend it my way. “Jack Bolton.”
Bolton. I never even bothered to press her for her last name. I shake his hand out of habit, but then my mouth goes dry and I’m not sure what to say back. I’m a whirling mess of guilt, regret, fear, and sorrow all twisted together right now.
“This is Grace, Jack. She’s in the same situation as me.”
I squint my eyes at her. “Not really.” No matter what her secret is, she’s so much better off than me. And maybe that’s selfish to think my problems are more overwhelming. It probably is. But I’d give anything to be running away from a wedding right now instead of the past.
“The media is after her. And so is Vaughn Asher.”
“Oh.” Jack Bolton looks me up and down and nods slowly. “Well, that’s quite a combination. Care to elaborate?”
I hesitate and he takes the hint.
“Never mind,” he says. “Come on, let’s go inside. Have you eaten?” he asks us as he leads Kristi inside, his protective arm still around her.
“No,” Kristi answers.
I follow them, trailing behind like a lost puppy. I haven’t felt this pathetic in years. A decade, in fact.
They stare at me with suspicion and questions… and blame. Aunt Rachel, who was always my favorite, narrows her eyes at me as I walk past and take a seat in the small living room. I fold my hands in my lap, pressing them together so hard they ache, and stare at them. Not daring to lift my head.
“What happened, Daisy?” they all ask. It’s like, simultaneous. That demand comes out of their mouths in various forms and tones. But it all leads back to the same thing everyone has been hinting at since I came back.
What did you do to bring this tragedy upon our family?
Kristi, Jack, and I travel through the main lobby of the resort, which is decorated Santa Fe-style to match the desert exterior. My eyes are all over Jack Bolton and I am insanely jealous. I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but I had a big brother once. I had a home, too. And parents.
I’m not talking. I decided that back in the hospital. I’m not talking. I’m not saying one word to these people. The nurses were nice but they started asking me questions that I not only didn’t understand
, but scared me to death. Sex, I knew they were asking me about sex. Did he touch me? What does that mean? Of course he touched me. Did I fight him? I don’t understand that one either. Of course I fought him. Did he hurt me? That one I get, but that was after the other two. Maybe if they had started with did he hurt me, I’d have talked…
I want my mom and dad and brother so badly right now. I should call Bebe and my other parents, but I can’t. I feel like it would be a monumental step backwards to run to them with this grief. After all they did for me—after all the time and effort and, yes, love, they poured into me to make me better—admitting I’m not OK, that I’ve been hiding behind a name, would be a slap in the face.
Kristi, Jack, and I arrive at the cafe before all those memories begin to surface and then I force myself to come out of the past—out of my nightmare—and try my best to live in my prefabricated fantasy.
I desperately need that fantasy life. Reality is really not my thing. Because my reality is… my entire family is dead. And now that I think about it, I remember something Vaughn Asher asked me last night. Isn’t it better to live?
But when you are the reason your whole family is dead… then no. No, it’s not better to live. How do I live with the guilt of knowing I’m the reason they were murdered?
Chapter Forty-Seven - Vaughn
#ThingsYouCantUnknow
“TALK TO me, Ray. How is no one tracking that car? How is the paparazzi not tracking that car?”
“They gave them the slip on the Strip, V. That crazy football wife bossed her way through traffic and made a turn. Then they just lost them.”
“Is that a rental car? Did someone get plates?”
“I don’t think it’s a rental car, it’s got a temporary plate taped to the back window. But the tint is so dark, no one could read them. I put a call into Johnny Blazen, but he hasn’t gotten back to me.”
Fuck. I scrub a hand down my face and just stand in the middle of my hotel bedroom. “We need to find Grace, Ray. Before the media does. I don’t think they know any more than they are reporting at this point, but Conner said that there’s more to her story and whatever that more is, I don’t want Grace to see it on TV before we find her.”
“I understand, boss.” Ray says that in his I’m-here-to-fix-things voice. “No matter who that car belongs to, it has to have GPS and is probably linked to a private security system that can access the location of the vehicle. So I’ll keep trying Blazen and see if we can’t figure out which room is his from hotel sources.”
“OK, thanks.” I end the call and walk over to the bed and sit down.
My bare feet can’t help but appreciate the soft sheepskin rug and that makes me smile. Grace brought it in here last night so that the first thing she would feel when she got up to start her day was the soft fur. I lean over and pick up the empty champagne bottle. We did drink a lot of champagne last night.
Does she really not remember?
God, that kills me. I mean, I knew we were both pretty drunk by that point, but hell, I had no idea she was that drunk. I’d never do that against her will. That’s just wrong.
And if she really doesn’t remember, there’s a chance she could remember at any moment. What if something jogs her memory and we’re not together to discuss it?
Ah, fuck. I grab my hair with both fists. “Fuck! Why does this have to happen now? Of all times?”
I turn on the TV and flip on the cable news. Midday news is mostly gossip and right now the Bellagio, Grace Kinsella, Vaughn Asher, Johnny Blazen, and Kristi the Fiancée are the only things people are talking about.
And then the picture of Daisy Bryndle goes up. Grace, age thirteen. The murder scene at her home, a farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. The missing child reports that went out all over the country as they searched for her. Both as a suspect in the murder of her family and as a missing child.
So confused were authorities on how to process the scene in a way that made sense, Grace was even on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. It was removed less than forty-eight hours after issue, but that’s not the point. A thirteen-year-old girl was on the FBI Most Wanted List. But they had to put someone on the list, I guess. They had no suspects other than Grace, even though it was highly unlikely that she would’ve been able to commit these murders alone.
The screen flashes to our fight outside the hotel. She’s crazed, I can tell. Her eyes are wild and they are darting all over the place. Trying to take in the scene. Trying to come to terms with the fact that the life she built, no matter how fake and fabricated, is over.
I want to stop watching as the scene repeats over and over, but I can’t. I just want to see her face. I just want to be able to see her face and I don’t have any pictures of her.
Wait. I reach for my phone on the nightstand and pull up my videos.
I smile big as I press play. It’s of the two of us arguing on the beach that first night we met. It’s only like a fifteen-second video, but I play it over and over. Because even though she’s mad, she’s not sad. She’s not scared. She’s vibrant and alive. She’s full of fight and demands.
That footage they are running outside the Bellagio, that’s not Grace at all.
That’s Daisy Bryndle.
Scared, defeated, lost Daisy Bryndle.
The door chimes and I walk out to the foyer and open it up. “Felicity, thank God.” She comes in without saying a word and takes a seat on the couch. She pulls out her laptop and sets it on the coffee table.
“Conner is on his way. He’s getting things set up for the Tray thing.”
“Did he tell you what happened to Grace?”
“Not all of it, he says some of it he needs to tell you in person. And I’d just like to caution you, V. Make sure this is how you want to find out about it. Because once you know, you can’t unknow. Things can’t be unknown, you understand?”
“I need to know,” I say quickly. “I need to know now.”
“Why?” Felicity asks, with an edge to her question. “Why do you need to know? Because if this will change your opinion about her, then I’d advise you to drop it. And drop her while you’re at it. Because this girl, Vaughn, she needs a win right now. She really needs a win. She needs someone who will stand by her, because this shit is about to get…” Felicity pauses, her eyes searching mine.
“What? It’s about to get what?”
“Disgusting. Revolting. Nauseating. Repulsive. It’s about to stop being about who murdered her family and start being about something else entirely. Something much, much worse.”
I sit on the couch opposite Felicity and stare at her. “You of all people, Felicity, should know me better.”
She nods and swallows hard. “I know, V. I do know you better, but I just need to make sure. Because Grace is gonna need you. She’s gonna need you like I needed you. And she’s never gonna admit that, ya know?”
“Like you never wanted to admit that, either.”
Felicity nods. “Yeah. Because this shit is private. And I don’t really want to show you, but I have always known you to be a good man, Vaughn. I know you have a shitty reputation and I also know you’ve earned it. But those people who see that side of you, they are the outsiders. Us insiders know that there’s a big difference between the man and the actor.”
“Felicity, I promise you. I have no intention of walking away because of what I find out. I promise you.”
She lets out a long breath and then she pulls up a file. A police report. “This is her criminal file. All public record stuff, sealed, of course, since she asked the court to do that on her eighteenth birthday. Police report, pictures of the crime scene, which I am telling you now, you do not want to see.” Felicity stares hard at me. “The perp used a knife. Enough said. And all kinds of other procedural things that go into a criminal file. This was not hard to get, but there’s something else mentioned in this file that’s not accessible. Her health records. I can’t get those, Vaughn. I can’t. I mean, I could, but I’d probably go to prison.
Besides, it’s one thing to go looking at her prescriptions at the drug store to see if she’s on the pill. Yeah, I’m a cunt for doing that for you. But it’s baby shit compared to what might be in those hidden records from her teens.”
The blood leaves my face. My hands go cold, my legs start to shake, and my heart speeds up. “What happened?”
“She was not the murderer. The lawyer convinced the FBI somehow. Got Daisy to make one statement. Only one. These were the only words she gave to authorities. Ever. And she said…” Felicity pulls up another page on the computer. Another procedural form with the title Witness Statement at the top. She zooms in to find a signature at the bottom. Daisy Bryndle.
And then she scrolls up to the portion where the witness gets to write down what they saw. There’s only one sentence and it says, ‘I was abducted.’
I realize I’m holding my breath and when I read that sentence, it all comes rushing out. “How long was she missing?” I ask.
“Eight months.”
I have to sit down. “And what happened to her during that time?”
“They have no idea.”
I have to take deep breaths. “Where is the guy who took her?”
“They have no idea.”
I stand back up. “So he’s still out there?”
Felicity shrugs her shoulders. “I have no idea. These are things Grace never told anyone, as far as I can see. There are no statements. There’s a mention of psychiatric appointments, but that’s it. Just a mention. All those health records are locked away with whoever was treating her at the time.”
“Is there a mention of the doctor’s name?” I ask.
“Redacted in all documents.”
“Well, if we can’t get it, chances are no one can. So that’s good, right?”
Felicity shrugs again. “For Grace’s sake, V, let’s hope so.”
Chapter Forty-Eight - Vaughn
#ThingsYouCantUnknowTakeTwo
