The Truth About Family

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “When were you a Boy Scout?” She cocked her head, sending him a look that nearly took his breath away but most certainly made his pants a little tighter.

  “A long time ago,” he growled, eager to finally close the distance between them to claim her lips with a possessive kiss. She was like a drug, spiraling through his veins, sparking heat with each connection throughout his body. And he wanted more. So much more.

  The door to Danni’s room opened and they both jumped apart, probably looking as guilty as two teenagers caught making out in the back seat of a car at Lover’s Lane. Danni stopped short at the sight of Erin sitting beside him and there was no mistaking the questioning look in her eyes.

  “Erin? What are you doing here?” she asked, moving into the dining room, her hair springing in unruly wisps from the messy ponytail atop her head. Immediately, she corrected herself. “I mean, it’s cool to see you again but…”

  Colin put some additional distance between him and Erin, then gestured to the photos spread on the table. “Erin brought some old pictures that might help with her father’s case. Did you get your homework finished?”

  Guest forgotten, she fixed him a caustic stare. “Of course, Dad,” she answered, moving past him to the kitchen.

  He started to say something in reference to Danni’s tone but the soft feel of Erin’s hand on his stilled his tongue. He turned to catch a soft shake of her head and he nodded in understanding. Pick your battles. He drew a deep breath and focused on the pictures in front of him. Erin removed her hand just as Danni returned with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. Completely ignoring Colin, she directed her attention to Erin, who had also returned to perusing the pictures.

  “Did you get those pictures from the festival developed?” Danni asked, her speech only slightly slurred from the giant spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

  “Actually,” Erin said, looking up from her pile, “I shot them digitally so I just have to download them. I was going to e-mail a few to my editor later tonight. Any suggestions?”

  Danni smiled, instantly warming to the subject. “I really liked the one with Old Henry. I think the colors were cool with the bonfire in the background.”

  “Me, too,” Erin said. “You’ve got a good eye, kid. Keep it up and it might take you somewhere someday.”

  “Like all the places you’ve been?” she asked, her eyes lighting.

  “And then some.” Erin winked.

  “Cool!” Danni sent one final grin Erin’s way before placing another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. Her gaze slid to Butterscotch snoozing at the hearth and for a split second Colin thought she was going to call to her, but the moment passed and Danni disappeared into her room.

  Erin’s gaze collided with Colin’s. “She’s a great kid,” she offered, dropping her eyes to the pile of forgotten pictures. Although she was fighting hard to hide it, he sensed a deep sadness pulling at her. When she realized he was still watching her, she looked up. “What?”

  “You’re good with kids,” he said with a smile.

  “No, I’m really not,” Erin murmured almost apologetically. “Ordinarily, kids and me are like oil and water. I don’t understand them and they don’t understand me. But Danni’s different. Like I said, she’s a good kid.”

  “You never wanted a few of your own?”

  She paused, as if her mind were more on the picture in her hand than his question, but somehow Colin knew she was struggling with her answer. Finally, she forced a bright smile and shook her head. “Never really thought about it.”

  She was lying but his gut said to let it go. He sensed the shadow of the past had a lot to do with her reluctance to start a family and it only made him more determined to find the answers she needed.

  ERIN’S HEART THUDDED PAINFULLY in the aftermath of Colin’s unexpected personal question. Kids. How would she tell him she never felt worthy of children in light of her past? The thought of drawing an innocent child into the morass of bad memories that comprised her childhood made her shudder. She refused to be that selfish. Besides, her career wasn’t exactly conducive to setting up a home. One minute she was in the office, but in the next she could be flying over Hawaii.

  Thus far, sticking to her guns hadn’t been overly difficult, but then again, she’d never come across a man like Colin. Somehow his presence had tripped her biological clock and it was ticking as if the world were coming to an end tomorrow. Long-buried maternal instincts were flickering to life as she allowed her imagination to run wild. She wanted to teach Danni what she knew about photography and she wanted to be there when the kid developed her first roll of film. She wanted… Swallowing hard Erin blinked back the sudden tears. What she wanted didn’t matter. It never did. Not when she was a kid and certainly not now.

  “You okay?”

  Colin’s voice broke through her wall of self-pity and she brushed away any moisture that might have betrayed her. “I’m fine. Eyelash in my eye,” she said, wiping at the imaginary complaint. Before Colin had the chance to call her bluff she gestured quickly at the picture in his hand. “What do you have there?”

  He didn’t buy it but he let it go. Relief made her offer a brief smile in return. He tossed the picture to the pile. “Nothing. More of the same,” he answered. “But it does raise an interesting question. Why aren’t there any pictures of Caroline and Hank in any of these?”

  She wished she knew. “I’ve wondered the same thing. I don’t know why I never really noticed before but now it seems glaringly obvious….”

  “What?”

  “I think—” A shudder rippled down her spine and Colin placed his hand atop hers. She gave him a brief smile for his concern and decided to level with him. “As much as I hate, and I mean, hate, to even consider this possibility, I think my Uncle Hank and…my mom were having an affair when she died.”

  “What makes you think that?” he asked.

  “I’ve got nothing concrete but why else would my Aunt Caroline remove all pictures of my uncle and my mother?”

  Colin digested the information, then continued slowly with an idea. “Let’s just say for the sake of argument that Hank and your mother were having an affair and somehow your dad caught the two together. Why were their deaths a week apart? And why would someone try to kill Charlie now? Doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

  Erin agreed. The holes in the theory were big enough to trip up Bigfoot but she couldn’t fathom anything more plausible. “Let’s look at the police reports…maybe there’s something in there we can pick up,” she suggested.

  “Good idea,” he said, moving to drag one of several boxes over to the table where they were working. When he opened the lid, he gave her advance warning. “They’re a mess. Apparently, logging evidence and keeping files in order weren’t high on someone’s priority list back in the day. It’s amazing how computers have revolutionized the way we file reports. Here, you search these.” He handed her a stack of papers. “I managed to narrow down the files to this pile but I hadn’t actually located the reports on your family yet. Unfortunately, the boxes were only labeled by year.”

  She nodded and took the stack. Thumbing quickly, she scanned for the names McNulty and Walker. After a half hour, her eyes started to cross and she wondered how Colin had managed to get through two entire boxes. She looked up to check his progress. Head bent, Erin could just make out the determined set of his jaw as he concentrated on his task. She paused in her search to watch him. The intensity of his expression brought their earlier lovemaking to mind and her heart rate quickened. She could spend a lifetime basking in that particular heat. In all her life she’d never been as warm as she was while wrapped in his arms. Stop it, a voice in her head commanded, jerking her to the present. She dropped her eyes to the paperwork lying forgotten in her hands and she reluctantly returned to her task. Ten minutes later, every sense awoke screaming as she stared down at the report in her hand.

  McNulty, Rose

  Maiden: Rawlins, Rose

  “Here
it is,” she announced, her voice sounding strangled and foreign. “I’ve found it.”

  Colin’s head jerked up and he let the paper he was holding drop to the table. Watching her closely, he waited for her direction. When she didn’t move, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to go over it first?”

  The concern in his voice made her realize her hands were shaking. She sent him a grateful smile and passed him the report. She was ashamed of her weakness but knowing she was holding the gory details of her mother’s suicide in her hands sent her bravado packing.

  She held her breath as he quickly scanned the report. He finished and pursed his lips, as if dissatisfied with what he’d read. “Well?” she pushed, her nerves pulled taut. “What does it say?”

  “Nothing.” He sighed, dropping the report to the table. “It’s a standard ten-forty-four report. Says that Rose Rawlins McNulty, twenty, was found in the bathtub, dead, after suffering lateral cuts on her right and left wrists. According to the coroner’s report, the estimated time of death was between one to four hours of discovery.”

  “That’s it?” Erin asked, unable to believe the end of her mother’s life was only worth a few lines on a report. “Does it state who found her?”

  Colin flipped the page and scanned for names. He nodded. “Charlie.”

  Erin swallowed, trying not to picture her father stumbling across his wife’s lifeless body. “Only twenty years old,” she whispered as the tears she’d so desperately tried to hide earlier came rushing back. Without bothering to wipe them from her eyes, she met Colin’s gaze and demanded an answer from someone…anyone. “Why?”

  Colin shook his head, worry and frustration drawing lines in his forehead. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a trace of bitterness in his voice. A tear snaked down her cheek and he gently brushed it away as he made a promise to her. “But I swear to you, we’ll find out.”

  THE NEXT MORNING BROKE COLD and gray and only intensified the dread Colin felt as he climbed into his SUV. Glancing at the manila envelope lying on the passenger seat, he wondered if he were about to open Pandora’s box.

  An hour after Erin had left, he’d found the file he was most interested in: Hank Walker’s accident report.

  On the surface it was as bland and straightforward as Rose’s suicide report had been. He glanced down at the signature line and read who had filed it: Roger Hampton.

  A growing sense of unease refused to recede even as he thought about what the chief’s signature was doing there.

  Leslie had already told him the chief had been a deputy back in the day.

  But given Roger’s close friendship with the McNulty family, policy would’ve dictated someone else investigate the accident. “Conflict of interest,” he muttered to himself.

  So, the question rose again: Why was Roger Hampton chosen to file the report?

  A queasy feeling returned to his gut as he considered the possibilities. No, there was a good reason. Maybe the department had been understaffed and Roger was the only available officer. The answer was probably just as benign, he reasoned, refusing to believe the chief, who was a mentor to every single young cop who came through the department doors, was involved with anything as sordid as a coverup.

  Yet, there were questions….

  After ensuring that Danni got to school on time, he pulled up to the station, and headed toward, what felt like career suicide.

  Sliding his ID badge through the thin slot, he was greeted by Leslie, who was on her way out.

  “Hey, stranger,” she called out, the smile on her face mirroring the tone of her voice until she caught the grim set of his jaw. Without saying a word, she knew where he was going. “Something bad?” she asked.

  “I’ll let you know after I talk with the chief.”

  Leslie looked alarmed but Colin moved past her. She started to follow but he gave a resolute shake of his head. He didn’t need an audience for what he was about to do.

  ERIN HIT SEND ON HER LAPTOP and leaned back to watch as four-megapixel photos made the seconds long trip to Harvey’s desk in San Francisco. She’d meant to forward them last night but fatigue had sent her straight to bed. And, honestly, her last thought before fading into oblivion had not been of a cantankerous egomaniac. She smiled at the absence of guilt and disconnected her Internet wire.

  Closing her laptop, she half listened to the sounds of the expensive piece of machinery powering down and wondered if it were possible to reclaim the life she knew before touching down in Granite Hills.

  Somehow she doubted it. When the dust settled and everyone returned to their individual routines, where would Erin be? For the first time, Granite Hills wasn’t the demon in her nightmares and San Francisco no longer seemed like home.

  At the naive age of eighteen she’d thought this place was the epitome of small-town hell. Now, she realized she may have painted the place with a pretty wide brush. She’d forgotten how much at one time she’d loved the melancholy of the fog rolling off the lake and settling on the sandy shore. But it’d been the aching beauty of her native soil that had sparked her desire to pick up a camera. Unfortunately, the urge to run far and fast had blotted out any of the good memories left from that time.

  Hugging herself for warmth, or perhaps reassurance, she sighed and headed downstairs.

  She entered the kitchen and pulled a mug from the cabinet and set the kettle on the stove. Five minutes later she was pouring hot water over the instant coffee packet, impatient for the caffeine it promised. Her mouth held a faint grimace as she lifted the mug to her lips, wishing she was holding a barista-prepared mocha latte instead, and took a bracing sip.

  Butterscotch padded by and Erin wondered what the dog would say if she could talk.

  “I’ll bet you know what secrets this family’s been hiding,” she said wryly. But just like everyone else who had the answers, the dog wasn’t doing any talking, either. “Caroline, I love you and miss you, but if you were here right now I’d wring your neck.”

  She placed her mug in the sink and paused to stare out the window. A sea of white met her eye as last night’s storm had added almost a foot of new snow to the ground, making the landscape as stark as it was beautiful. Pushing away from the sink, she made her way into the living room to stoke the woodstove and wait for the hot water to heat up so she could take a shower.

  On her way, she paused before Caroline’s room, torn between the need to do a simple inventory of what should stay and what should go and her desire to shut the door and never open it again.

  Not very practical.

  She sighed. She might as well get it over with. And it wasn’t like Caroline was going to need any of her stuff anyway.

  “But I better not find anything weird that might scar me forever,” she grumbled to thin air until Butterscotch wandered around the corner with an ear cocked, making her feel that much more nuts for talking to herself. “Right. Just disregard that,” she said, waving at Butterscotch before entering the room with a deep breath.

  An hour later, Erin had decided which clothes would go to the local women’s shelter and which items would stay, such as Caroline’s crocheted shawl she wore at night to keep her arthritis at bay, and the hand-sewn lace doilies Caroline liked to make for friends that were unfinished in the closet.

  Taking a break, Erin sat down on Caroline’s bed, bunched the shawl under her nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled distinctly of Caroline, the soft mixture of lavender and rose bringing tears to her eyes. Wrapping the shawl around her and hugging it to herself, she could almost pretend Caroline was simply in the kitchen and Erin was home for a visit.

  Except Erin had never come home to visit.

  She dropped her head. “I wish I had, Caroline,” she whispered. “I’d do anything to see you one more time. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  Erin wasn’t sure how long she sat there wrapped in Caroline’s shawl but she guessed it was probably longer than a few minutes. Rousing herself from her grief, she dr
ew a deep breath and opened the bedside drawer to start the process of cleaning it out. An odd assortment of pens rolled to the front, hitting what appeared to be an address book. Picking it up, she started to thumb through it, only to realize it wasn’t an address book at all.

  A journal.

  Erin let out the breath she was holding with a soft hiss as she considered what to do. Ethically, she felt, even in death, Caroline deserved her privacy. But what if Caroline knew who was behind the accident? What if she’d written down her suspicions before it happened? Or, Erin thought as a chill crept along her spine, what if she had revealed in its pages her private heartache, telling what had really happened the night Rose died?

  The last thought prompted Erin to open the first page with trembling fingers as she pushed aside the screech of conscience and searched for passages that might be useful to either the investigation or the past.

  As Erin made her way through the journal, she realized most of the passages contained some kind of sad, reflective prose revealing how Caroline wished Erin would meet someone nice. But as Erin read between the lines, she realized the real push had been for Erin to come home. Lifting her head from the book, she swallowed a lump that had risen with the last passage she’d read.

  I’m afraid she’s pulled herself into a cold, little knot, afraid to love because of the past. So much like me. I wish things were different. For both of us.

  “So much like me?” Erin repeated, wondering what Caroline meant. She returned to the passage, hoping to find out.

  Although I’d never want Erin to know what happened the night Rose died, in a way, I wish she did so she’d understand why things were so hard. Lord, how I miss that girl. Damn Hank Walker to hell for ruining my family.

  Shocked, Erin pulled back. The confusion she felt outweighed the feeling of unease that hovered at the edge of her consciousness, as she considered the implications of Caroline’s journal entries.

  What had Caroline been hiding?

  Erin scanned the pages, all semblance of propriety quickly disappearing as her hunger for knowledge grew with each flip of the page. The answers were close and nothing was going to keep Erin from finding them.