"About Delilah. She was your sister," Harper said quickly, giving him no time to lie anymore. She was done with the games. She was going to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.
Patrick slowly leaned back in his chair as he stared out through the large window that looked out to the security gate. Harper bit her lip nervously. Patrick's eyes slowly traveled away from the glass and back to her a thunder rumbled outside, shaking the entire security box. Harper looked around nervously at the thin walls as the rain pounded harder and harder against the tin roof above.
"Who told you that?" Patrick asked, finally breaking a silence. His voice, low and muffled. His eyes, glassy and red. Almost as if he was holding back tears.
"Does it really matter?" Harper said as she shrugged angrily.
"Yeah, it does fucking matter! Who else knows?" Patrick demanded. Harper's eyes widened as his loud, deep voice echoed and bounced off of the walls surrounding them. Her heart sped up in her chest. She could hear it, beating faster and faster in her ears. She went too far. This was a mistake. A terrible mistake...
"Vera...the Ramsey's nanny," Harper whispered, terrified of what he might say or do next. Patrick sighed as he leaned forward and buried his face into his hands.
"Fuck," Patrick said. "Does anyone else know?" he added quickly as he sat back up and stared into Harper's eyes.
"I don't think so. Just her and me. I can't be sure, though. But, Patrick...why? Patrick, what the hell is going on? Why did you not tell me? Why did you lie?" Harper asked softly, trying not to upset him.
"Elena and Grayson can't know. They would have had me removed already if they did," Patrick said as he nodded, reassuring himself.
"Can you just be honest with me? Just tell me the truth. I won't say anything, I promise. I won't say anything to anyone," Harper said.
"I was scared. I was too scared to tell you because," Patrick then stopped.
"Please," Harper begged. She needed someone...anyone to be honest with her. She needed him to tell her what he knew...now more than ever before it would be too late.
"I was scared to tell you because I thought you would tell Elena and Grayson. It took me months to get this job. It took me months to finally get close enough to them. I didn't want anyone to blow it," Patrick said as he took a deep breath. "I got this job so I could be close to them. So, I could maybe find out what happened. Get an inside scoop. This neighborhood...people talk. Everyone talks. I just wanted to get as much information about Grayson and Elena as I could," Patrick added.
"You think they had something to do with Delilah's disappearance?" Harper asked.
"No doubt about it," Patrick said, certain of himself. "Delilah told me everything. We were close...we were so close. She told me about her and Elena; about the affair. She said that they were going to run away together. Delilah said that they were going to take Rosie with them and get the hell out of Dodge," Patrick said as he fought back his tears.
"So they were going to run away together? They were going to start a new life," Harper said as she nodded softly.
"That's what Delilah said but I just couldn't see Elena leaving Grayson behind. I couldn't see her leaving all the money, the clothes, the jewelry, the cars...for some nanny. I was skeptical. But, when Delilah disappeared, I knew what had happened. I think Grayson killed her," Patrick said coldly. "I think he found out about their plan and he knew that killing my sister was the only way to stop them," Patrick added. "Delilah loved Rosie; she loved her like she was her own. She loved her more than Grayson ever could. I think that drove him crazy," Patrick added.
"You really think that Grayson killed your sister?" Harped asked in disbelief.
"Yes, I do. And I think I know where he hid the body," Patrick said with a nod. Harper felt a chill shiver up her spine. Every goose bump rose to the surface, popping up through her skin.
"Where?" Harper asked softly.
"Her and Elena used to run off to their cabin on the weekends. Elena would always tell Grayson she was going to visit her sister...but that's where they always went; for alone time," Patrick said.
"And you think that's where Delilah's body is?" Harper asked, trying to confirm his terrifying, cryptic theory.
"Where else? The police found nothing here. He had to have hidden her body somewhere, right? It's perfect. It's in the woods. It's in the middle of nowhere," Patrick said as he stared out through the window, watching the rain drops splash against the surface.
"Do you know where it is? Have you been out there?" Harper asked, pushing for more answers.
"Yes, but it's locked up pretty tight. You can't get inside without a key," Patrick said as he sighed in annoyance. Patrick's eyes then lit up as he slowly looked to Harper...and smiled.
And something about that smile...terrified her deeply.
Heart to Heart
Harper scrubbed the dishes in the Livingston kitchen as she stared out through the window above the sink. The rain was still falling outside, harder than before. Harper watched as the puddles slowly grew deeper and deeper in the back lawn as she rinsed the last plate. Grayson and Elena were both working late so she volunteered to stay late and cook dinner for Rosie.
Harper patted her hands dry with a dish towel as she looked over to the digital clock on the stove. 9:46. Patrick told her to meet him at ten. Where the hell were Grayson and Elena? They said the latest would be nine.
Harper slowly made her way up the staircase and towards Rosie's bedroom door. Harper quietly turned the handle and peeked inside. Rosie was sprawled out along her tiny bed peacefully. The rotating night light in the corner turned slowly, casting shadows of an assortment of animals; from monkeys to horses to fish. Her doll, Jenny, wrapped tightly in her arm. Her small, full belly rising and falling as a quiet snore rang through her tiny nostrils. God, she was adorable. How could they spend so much time away from such a smart, beautiful little girl? Harper would gladly take her in. She knew deep down that she'd stay all night if she had to, but only for Rosie.
Harper quietly shut the door, making sure not wake her. It took her nearly an hour to finally fall asleep. Harper thought she was going to run out of story books before Rosie even let out a simple yawn. But finally, her little blue eyes closed, and she was out. Probably dreaming of the days before both her parents got wrapped up in their thriving careers. How they used to do things together; simple things. Go to the park, visit the theater, stroll through the zoo. All of it, now in the past. Now, their attention...every single bit of it was focused strictly on their work. What kind of life did that leave for their daughter? A wealthy one, yes. But also, a lonely one.
Harper had returned downstairs to finishing wiping the counters when she heard the front door in the foyer creak open and gently shut. She looked up to the doorway as a tall, dark shadow stretched along the wall beside the doorway.
Grayson slowly rounded the corner as he loosened his tie, his briefcase in his hand. He leaned against the doorway, his tired eyes focusing in on Harper as she glanced back down at the island counter top, wiping it thoroughly.
"I can't believe you're still here," Grayson said as he slowly inched into the kitchen.
"What was I supposed to do? Leave Rosie all alone?" Harper said, keeping her eyes locked on him. What if Patrick was right? What if he did kill Delilah? She couldn't let him out of her sight. Not now...in the middle of the night...all alone...in this dim kitchen.
"No, I just figured Elena would have been home by now," Grayson said as he walked into the kitchen and leaned against the island. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
"No," Harper said shortly.
"Listen, can we talk about something?" Grayson asked as he stood up straight.
"Chicken parmesan," Harper said as she wiped the counter with the dish towel, not looking up to Grayson.
"What?" Grayson asked with a smirk, confused.
"Did you know that's your daughter's favorite food? Chicken parmesan," Harper said sternly as she rested against the opposite side of the ki
tchen island, staring at Grayson.
"No, I didn't," Grayson said as he smirked, still lost by the direction this conversation was headed.
"Did you know that her favorite color is green? Or that her favorite animal is a penguin? Or that she hates pickles and lemonade?" Harper asked as she glared at him.
"No, I didn't," Grayson said as he rested his elbows on the counter and stared at Harper across from him.
"That's my point, Grayson. Have you never noticed the way she chews on her hair when she's nervous? Or way she has to count on all ten fingers when I ask her when the last time was that she spent the entire day with her mom or dad? You don't see the look in her pretty blue eyes when I ask her about you and Elena. She looks so...lost and... forgotten," Harper said as she tried to fight back her tears.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually," Grayson said softly. She could tell she struck a nerve. Were those actual feelings...actual emotions that were being displayed? Harper felt stunned. Shocked, in fact.
"Am I fired?" Harper asked as she looked down at the already clean counter. But she couldn't stop wiping it. She had to stay busy. She couldn't look at him for too long in fear of slapping him.
"No, but I understand if you'd want to quit," Grayson said as he pulled out a stool from the island and sat down.
"What are you talking about?" Harper asked, still wiping.
"I'm saying I'd understand if you'd want to leave and not ever come back. I've...I've fucked up pretty bad here lately; more than I'm willing to admit," Grayson began as Harper could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I want my family back. What we did...I know it was a mistake. I know it was wrong. I know all of the dozens of other times, it was wrong. But something hit me last night," Grayson said as he crossed his arms and leaned back in the bar stool.
"What's that?" Harper asked as she rested her hands against the counter, staring at Grayson.
"I've been struggling with my...discrepancies for the last...five years," Grayson said as he picked nervously at the lining of his suitcase that sat on the island counter top. "I can't even remember the names of all the women," Grayson said as he smirked and shook his head.
"You knew mine," Harper giggled.
"Yeah, only because you showed up on my door step the next day," Grayson giggled. "But in all seriousness, I love Elena. I love her with all my heart. If she ever found out about any of it...if she ever decided to leave me...I'd be broken. I'd be destroyed. I don't want to lose her and I don't want to lose my daughter. It's almost like I want..." Grayson stopped as he was searching for the perfect word.
"A do over?" Harper said, as if she understood all too well.
"Exactly," Grayson nodded as he stared down at his lap. "I'm not happy about what I've done. But, I'm not thirty anymore. I'm not single anymore. Although I've been living like I have been for the last few years. I regret it. All of it. Every single one. Every single night. I don't want to be that man anymore. I don't want to be that father. I don't want to be that husband," Grayson said as a single tear streamed down his face, his voice quivering.
"Has Grayson Livingston finally decided to grow up?" Harper smirked as she folded the dish towel neatly on the counter.
"He sure as hell has," Grayson said as he smiled and wiped his running nose. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the way I've acted. I just...I want us to be friends. I want us to be OK. I want me and Elena and Rosie to be OK," Grayson said.
"All is forgotten. All is forgiven. But if you're going to change, then change. Don't fall back into that. Be there for Elena. Be there for Rosie. You've got a wonderful family right in front of you and there is nothing better out there; no matter how short the skirt or how high the heels. You're blessed," Harper said. "You're so lucky and everything you could ever want is already right here in front of you," she added.
"I know. I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry," Grayson said.
"I forgive you," Harper smiled. God, she couldn't believe it. He seemed so sincere and so...honest. Harper could tell he truly did want to change his life around. He could now finally see the good that was right in front of his face this entire time. Sure, Elena had her little slip up but so did he...more than once...or twice...or ten times, at that. Sure, he'd probably never know about Elena's...but still. To Harper, they were even.
Harper's mind then floated back down to reality. Grayson was the one who possibly killed Delilah. She could be standing across from a homicidal maniac right now. What if this was part of his game? What if this was how he gained Delilah's trust? By this stupid little fake speech to gain her sympathy?
"I gotta get to bed. I have to be up early," Grayson said as he stood and yawned.
"I'll let myself out. I just gotta wash a more things and then I'll be gone," Harper nodded as she turned away and towards the sink.
"Thank you...for listening to me...for hearing me out," Grayson said as he inched towards the kitchen doorway.
"No problem," Harper said, short and to the point. Her eyes darted to the clock on the stove one more; 9:58. She was running out of time.
"Goodnight, Harper," Grayson said softly as he disappeared out of the kitchen.
"Night" Harper said as she washed her hands under the kitchen sink. Harper continued washing her hands as she listened. Grayson's footsteps slowly traveling up the stairs. Silence then surrounded her. The coast was clear. Harper slowly turned from the sink as she dried her hands with the dish towel...and looked to the key rack along the wall beside the doorway. Only one single key was remaining on the center hook. It had to be the key...
The key to the Livingston's cabin...
Room with a View
Harper slowly stepped out of Patrick's car as the cool, summer air nibbled at her skin through her thin jacket. It took them only thirty minutes to get to the Livingston's cabin, but it felt like eternity. The whole ride there, Harper could feel her stomach twisting and turning in knots. She kept trying to tell herself there was no way in hell they would find anything, but her heart told her a very different and sinister story.
The rain had finally stopped, but thunder was still rumbling through the dark, ominous clouds above as they danced across the full moon's glowing facet. Crickets chirped through the thick woods that surrounded the Livingston's tiny cabin as a toad croaked loudly from a small pond that Harper could see through the spaces between the thick trees. Harper and Patrick slowly made their way along the edge of the cabin and towards the front. They had planned before hand to park in the back, just in case. Harper's eyes widened as they settled onto the decrepit building in front of her. For a family made of money, the cabin looked quite dingy and forsaken. The wood siding, splitting and decaying. The metal roof, stained and matted with wet leaves and fallen branches. The cabin was small, only able to hold one bedroom at the most. Harper was trying to be positive about this whole thing, but from the looks of it, she was dead wrong. Just based on the appearance alone, this place...this cabin...looked as if it was simply here to shelter all of the Livingston's terrible secrets.
"Do you have the key?" Patrick asked as his eyes traveled along the cabin, from the roof to the ground, almost in shock.
"Yeah," Harper finally said softly as she stared forward, still amazed at the cabin's delicate and gloomy state. Harper slowly reached into her jacket pocket and handed Patrick the cabin key with a trembling hand.
"Are you OK? You're shaking," Patrick said as the key dropped into the center of his palm.
"Yeah, just chilly is all," Harper lied as she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms gently, up and down.
"If you don't want to go in, you don't have to," Patrick said as he slowly grabbed Harper by her shoulders and turned her towards him. Harper didn't want to go in. She didn't want to see the inside if the outside was any preview of what laid within the four walls. But she had to. If Delilah was in there, she had to see the body for herself. Patrick had lied to her once. She wasn't
going to be fooled again...not by anyone.
"I'm going in," Harper said as Patrick's eyes stared into her own. He gently nodded and grabbed her hand tightly. Harper's eyes widened as she slowly looked down, their hands wrapped tightly around each other.
"Let's go," Patrick said as he led the way towards the cabin a few feet ahead. Harper squeezed Patrick's sweaty hand, tighter and tighter as they inched closer and closer towards the old wooden front door ahead. It was too late to turn back now. She had to do this. She had to go in.
Patrick slowly reached forward and pushed the key into the lock. He turned the key as the lock clicked on the other side. It was open, ready for entry. Patrick slowly looked to Harper as he shoved the key into his pocket and placed his free hand against the rough wooden surface of the door...and pushed it open.
The door creaked loudly on its hinges as Patrick and Harper stared forward at the dark abyss ahead of them. Harper could feel her heart speeding faster and faster as they slowly inched into the darkness...and into the cabin. Harper's eyes slowly adjusted as Patrick flipped a light switch on the wall beside the open door. The cabin was filled with light as Patrick slowly pushed the cabin door shut behind Harper. The small cabin was shockingly clean and well-kept compared to the nightmare outside. A small sofa sat in the center of the living room area across from a large, brick fireplace. A kitchen stood across from the living room, the floor plan open and spacious. Harper slowly inched deeper into the cabin as Patrick slowly made his way to the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" Harper snapped, angry that he left her side.
"I'm going to get a sandwich," Patrick said sarcastically as he made his way to the kitchen. "See if there's anything in the fridge; that'll tell us if anyone has been up here in a while," Patrick added as he made his way towards the refrigerator in the corner.
The floor boards creaked under Harper's shoes as she walked towards the massive fireplace. There were no pictures on the walls or on the mantle. There were no flowers, no plants, or any decor of any kind. It was cold...lonely.
Don't Tell a Soul Page 5
