Family Secrets

by Judith Henry Wall

  I always believed that I was destined for a better life than my parents had—a far better life. And I spent years creating a new identity for myself and distancing myself from the person named Hattie with her crimes and prison record. I erased—or so I thought—all evidence that I was the young woman at the center of the unfortunate events that occurred that ill-fated year in a dismal little corner of Montana. Then all these years later when I am close to achieving a goal for which I have been striving for decades, you three track me down. Surely you can understand why I did not greet you with open arms and why I wish that we had never met or had any knowledge of one another. But here we are. So in the interest of making the best of things, I propose a toast to your father, who raised three bright, interesting daughters.” And with that, Hattie lifted her goblet to her lips.

  Vanessa took a sip from the surprisingly heavy goblet. The wine also was heavy and not all that pleasing. She didn’t particularly like red wines, vintage or otherwise. And red wine didn’t like her and usually gave her a headache. But a few sips probably wouldn’t hurt. And after the stress of the evening, she longed for that mellow feeling a bit of wine would bring.

  She looked over at Ellie to see what she thought of the wine. Ellie was regarding the contents of her goblet with a puzzled look. She tried another tentative taste, after which she shrugged and downed the entire glass. Then she rose and poured herself another glass.

  Georgiana took sips of wine in between nibbles of cheese. When she realized Vanessa was watching her, she held up her goblet and nodded first at Vanessa, then somewhat fearfully at Ellie. “Here’s to Vera Wentworth, the woman who raised our father,” Georgiana said.

  “Here, here,” Vanessa said, lifting her glass. The wine tasted better now. Maybe it just took a little getting used to.

  Ellie also raised her glass and said, “To Vera, who loved our daddy.”

  Vanessa tried to show her agreement with Ellie’s statement with another sip of wine, but she could not lift the goblet. It seemed stuck to the table.

  She looked at Ellie to see if she was able to lift her goblet.

  Ellie was still sitting across the table, but the tabletop had expanded into a vast, glossy plane, and Ellie was far away. She was looking at Vanessa and her lips were moving, but her voice was just as distant as she was.

  Something was wrong, Vanessa realized. Very, very wrong.

  Twenty-Six

  MYRNA followed the flashlight’s beam to the metal stairs then climbed upward through the bowels of her mountain until she reached the garage. From there she entered the elevator, relieved to have the distasteful and exhausting task completed and to be returning to the fabulous home that she had designed and built and loved.

  She wondered, however, if she was going to feel the same about Eagles Nest after the events of this night.

  Damn those three women! How dare they come snooping into her life!

  She punched the button for the office level.

  The elevator door slid open, revealing the remains of the midnight repast still on the conference table, and the chairs her “guests” had occupied were still askew.

  She made herself a cup of tea, then took her accustomed place at the head of the table and closed her eyes.

  Living once again in Hattie’s skin and telling her tale had exhausted her.

  Of course, the memory of that time in her life had always been with her, but over the years only transitory recollections would flit through her brain when a bit of conversation, a line in a book, a familiar melody, or even the sight of an ancient pickup truck or a well-tended vegetable garden would set them free for a time. And even though thoughts of that time had haunted her of late, she had deliberately avoided living through that time in its entirety as she had tonight.

  For she did have regrets.

  She’d realized from the beginning that Josh’s plan was clumsy and flawed, but she had allowed him to lead. And she had paid the price.

  But those nights in the loft with moonlight streaming through the open hay doors as they explored the joys and mysteries of their own bodies had never been equaled for her in all the years since. Never. She remembered how the local newspaper vilified Josh as a cold-blooded killer. She didn’t mind so much what they said about her, but Josh was just a sweet, ignorant boy with dreams that went amiss. He thought he could walk in that bank poor and leave rich. What happened was her fault because she went along with his stupid plan and hoped for the best.

  She also regretted setting her mother adrift. Even though she’d never wanted to see her mother again, she should have provided for her needs. She should not have allowed her mother to die a pauper if for no other reason than her father would have expected better of her.

  But she had no regrets over killing Mr. Sedgwick’s son. None at all. The man was vermin and deserved to die. She wished she could have killed Mr. Sedgwick himself, but she managed to have his mine investigated and then closed, which ruined him financially and was a sort of death.

  And she was sorry that beautiful Josh Polanski had died. But even though she had adored him and maybe even loved him, theirs would not have been an enduring relationship. She needed to figure out who she was and what she wanted out of life before she was ready to make that sort of commitment. Not that any of the men in her life had had a permanent place. They either died or disappointed her. The closest thing to fulfillment came from her children and grandchildren, who had disappointed her at times, but she made sure they learned from their mistakes as she herself had done. Of course, no one in her family knew about her mistakes. They thought of her as infallible.

  Myrna wondered what time it was but was too weary even to look at her watch. She deliberately avoided thinking about Willy. She would come to terms with that later. Right now, in spite of her aching muscles and her brain crying out for sleep, there were things she needed to tend to.

  Feeling unaccustomedly stiff and tired, Myrna finished her tea, then rose and carried the silver wine goblets to the sink, where she carefully washed and dried them and put them away. She poured the remaining wine down the drain and washed and rinsed the wine bottles before putting them in the trash can. Next she washed the dishes and utensils and dumped the leftover food down the garbage disposal. She took a clean dish towel and polished the fingerprints from the glossy top of the conference table and the arms of the chairs. In the adjoining bathroom, she carefully wiped down any surfaces her guests might have touched. Then she wiped off the French doors and the railing around the deck. She bagged the trash and carried it with her to the elevator. She wiped off the front of the elevator door and the controls inside.

  In the dining room, she polished the table and chairs. Next she wiped down the banister for the circular staircase.

  After inspecting the bedroom suite to make sure Willy had left none of the three sisters’ possessions behind, she rubbed down any surface they might have touched and scrubbed down the bathroom, making sure no stray hairs remained in the corners or caught in the drains.

  Then with the trash bag in hand she took the elevator back down to the garage area. So strange to have no security officer emerge from the security office.

  She put the trash in the trunk of the Lincoln and drove into the nearby community of Folly, where she put the bags in a bin behind the service station.

  Once she was back at Eagles Nest, she turned her attention to the Hummer, wiping every surface—both inside and outside the vehicle—that the women might have touched when Willy drove them from the airstrip.

  So weary she could hardly walk, Myrna took the elevator up to the service level and placed all the cleaning cloths she had used in the washing machine and turned it on. Then she rode to the main level where the living room and her bedroom suite were located. When the door slid open, she made her way toward her bedroom with a lagging step.

  She didn’t even bother to undress or pull back the covers on the bed. She sank onto the chaise, pulled a throw over her exhausted body, and stared out a
t the predawn sky.

  The moon had long since set, and the stars were beginning to fade, but Venus was still brilliant in the western sky. One of her granddaughters often brought a small telescope with her when she visited Eagles Nest and would try to get Myrna to look through the lens and admire worlds so distant that it took eons for their light to reach earth. But Myrna had no desire to ponder the universe. As far as she was concerned, the nighttime sky was no more than a theatrical backdrop for the nighttime activity and musings of human beings.

  Her labors at last concluded, she allowed her mind to turn to Willy. In so many ways, this was Willy’s home as much as it was hers. Eagles Nest was going to be impossibly lonely without her.

  Willy had come into Myrna’s life as a hulking fourteen-year-old at Myrna’s Denver estate. Willy and her parents lived in quarters above the garage. Three years later Willy’s parents slipped away in the night, leaving their daughter asleep in her bed. Willy ran errands for her reclusive employer and did things the gardener and housekeeper left undone. Willy’s entire life revolved around pleasing Myrna, and her devotion to Myrna was absolute. The two women often had their lunch together while watching a noontime soap opera. And even in the evening they would often dine together while watching the news and the game show that followed. When Myrna decided to give up her Denver home and live full-time at Eagles Nest, she invited Willy to join her, and the large, awkward woman had knelt in front of Myrna and kissed her hands. Remembering made tears come to Myrna’s eyes.

  And now Willy was lost to her. Already loneliness was seeping into Myrna’s bones as she realized how adrift she was going to be without her Willy. Willy had cared more about her than anyone else in the entire world. More than her own children.

  I have always done what needs to be done, Myrna reminded herself. She had set a course for herself decades ago. Willy was not elemental to that course. An impeccable reputation was.

  “I’m so sorry, Willy,” she whispered. “Please, please forgive me.”

  Twenty-Seven

  VANESSA opened her eyes to darkness.

  She was lying on her back. But where?

  She held her hand in front of her face but saw nothing. No hand. Just complete and total blackness.

  She blinked several times, then waved her hand in front of her face. She could feel the movement of air the waving caused but still saw nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Had she gone blind?

  The thought filled her with panic. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself and realized she had a headache. A terrible, throbbing headache. And she was thirsty. Her mouth was dry. Her tongue felt swollen.

  She rubbed her forehead in a futile attempt to ease the painful throbbing. Maybe she couldn’t see because she’d had a cerebral hemorrhage.

  Then she remembered the wine that Willy had served.

  She’d gotten headaches from red wine before, but it had never made her pass out. And she’d taken only a few polite sips. But it must have been the wine that rendered her unconscious because she had absolutely no memory of anything after drinking it. No memory of being brought to this place of total darkness.

  Yes, that had to have been what happened. She wasn’t waking from a deep sleep. She’d been unconscious, otherwise she would remember being carried or dragged from Hattie’s office to wherever she was now. The last thing she remembered was looking across the table and seeing Ellie becoming farther and farther away from her and not being able to hear what she was saying.

  “Ellie?” she said out into darkness, her throat so dry it hurt to speak the word and using her voice caused yet another pain to shoot through her head. Mentally she pushed the pain aside. “Georgiana?” she called out. “Are you guys here?”

  She listened. Then called her sisters’ names again. She could sense from the reverberations of her voice that she was not in a small space.

  Whatever this place was, it smelled bad. Like vomit. Which meant that other living creatures were here with her.

  And the silence was not total. She became aware of the soft sound of breathing.

  “Who’s there?” she said, her heart pounding. Images flitted across her mind’s eye. A man with an ax. Hattie pointing a gun at her. A wild animal.

  “Please answer me,” Vanessa sobbed. “Whoever you are, please, please answer me.”

  She strained her ears trying desperately to hear a response. When there was none, she took a deep breath and reached out into the blackness. She waved her hands back and forth, up and down.

  Then she touched the surface she was lying on. Solid rock covered with a sprinkling of dirt. But she was not outside. There was no sky above her. Even the darkest sky could be seen.

  She rolled over. The movement brought the pain back to her head. Think around it, she told herself, and began inching her way toward the sound of breathing. Even if it was a wild animal, she needed to know with whom or what she was sharing this darkness.

  Her hand touched something and instantly recoiled.

  Then she forced herself to reach out again. She was touching warm, bare skin.

  She allowed her fingertips to explore. It was a foot. A human foot. A warm, living human foot that was so soft and unbelievably smooth that it could only belong to one person. Her sister Georgiana.

  Vanessa kissed her baby sister’s extraordinary foot, then scooted up to Georgiana’s face and kissed her cheek. Then her lips. Georgiana’s breathing was shallow. Vanessa patted her face. “Honey, I need for you to wake up.”

  When Georgiana didn’t respond, Vanessa pinched her cheek. Then she shook her, gently at first, then with vigor. “Please, Georgiana, I need for you to wake up.”

  But still there was no response.

  Something definitely had been in the wine. They’d been drugged. Vanessa was sure of it now. She had taken only a few sips, but Georgiana had drunk more. Ellie, too. Ellie had poured herself a second glass.

  “Ellie,” Vanessa called out. “Ellie! God damn it, Ellie, answer me!”

  Again there was only silence.

  Vanessa felt all around Georgiana’s body as she continued to call out. “Ellie, answer me, please. Where are you, honey? Just moan a little bit so I can find you.”

  She moved out into a wider circle until she bumped into something. But it wasn’t Ellie. Not a person. She explored the something with her fingertips.

  It was a suitcase.

  Next to it was another suitcase. And another. Then carry-on bags. And the cases that held Georgiana’s photographic equipment. All lined up in a row as though some hotel bellhop had carefully placed them in this place of total darkness.

  All that was missing was their purses. Vanessa knew she didn’t have a flashlight or a water bottle in her purse, but maybe Ellie or Georgiana did.

  On her knees, Vanessa felt her way back down the line of luggage. The purses were on top—Ellie’s expensive leather tote, Georgiana’s backpack, her own well-worn department-store purse. Blindly Vanessa searched through them for a flashlight or water bottle. There were none.

  She pulled her cell phone out of its designated pocket and pressed a key. The familiar tiny screen lit up, but its light barely penetrated the darkness.

  Hoping and praying for a miracle, she pressed 911 and the send key, but nothing happened.

  She tried Ellie’s cell phone. Its light was just as insignificant, and her phone also refused to connect with the outside world. Georgiana’s phone was useless, too.

  Frantic for any meaningful source of light, she started searching through Georgiana’s photographic gear. Vanessa knew that Georgiana preferred to augment natural light with reflectors and probably hadn’t brought along any sort of flash equipment, but maybe some sort of light source was among all this stuff.

  Then Vanessa remembered how on the way back from Deer Lodge they’d stopped so Georgiana could make a low-light, timed exposure of a crumbling stone house with a stream in the foreground and mountains behind. She had used a penlight to check her setting
s in the fading light.

  Somewhere in all this stuff was that penlight.

  Vanessa frantically searched through the various cases. Light, she thought. Please let there be light.

  Desperately trying to remain calm, she went through each case, checking each compartment and side pocket, until finally there it was—in a cloth bag along with spare batteries.

  Vanessa took a deep breath and turned on the tiny flashlight. Never had a beam of light seemed so wondrous.

  Slowly she moved the beam back and forth in an ever wider swath until finally she located Ellie.

  Vanessa scrambled to her side and caressed her face. Ellie’s skin was warm, and she was breathing. Dried vomit was on her face and neck, which Vanessa hoped meant that Ellie hadn’t metabolized as much of the wine as Georgiana had.

  “Open your eyes, honey. I need for you to open your eyes and talk to me. Georgiana is here. We’re all together. Please, please, Ellie, please wake up. I know you’re mad at me, but the three of us have got to stick together. We haven’t been doing a very good job of that lately, and now we’re being held prisoner in…”

  Vanessa paused to scan their surroundings with the narrow beam of the tiny flashlight.

  “We’re underground in a cave of some sort. Willy must have brought us here.”

  Yes, one by one, Vanessa realized as she stroked Ellie’s smooth, silky hair. The enormous woman would have carried or dragged their unconscious bodies to this place. And then she would have brought their possessions.

  Willy had brought them and their possessions to a place where they would never be found. A place that was supposed to become their tomb.

  The privacy agreements had been a ruse so those two horrible women could get them to drink drugged wine. Rather than kill them in the house and risk leaving any incriminating evidence behind, they brought them here to die. It was tidier that way.

  They must have been sure there was no way out of this place, Vanessa realized with a sinking heart.

  But if there was a way in, there had to be a way out. Unless they’d locked or barricaded the only entrance. But maybe there was an air duct they could crawl through. Or they could dig their way out. There had to be a way. If there wasn’t, she was never going to see her daughters again. Never see her mother.