A Family Secret

by Cross, Kennedy

  Claire levels her aim still on Ethan. “Ethan, do not—”

  “Get over here!” he shouts over her. He uses two fingers to motion his thugs over.

  “I’m not leaving!” I say. I’m not going to be a bargaining chip in his negotiation and I’m definitely not leaving Claire alone in here with him.

  “Do not try and outsmart them,” Claire says. “It won’t work. You’re outmanned.” The two Club thugs haven’t moved, still standing with their hands raised.

  “Either we negotiate or I stab him,” Ethan says. “Now GET OVER HERE!”

  At that, the two thugs obey him and begin toward me. Claire points her Glock at them and her aim twitches, but she doesn’t fire.

  “Hurry!” Ethan shouts. They’re already kneeling beside me, working to undo the rope from the chair. The second I’m loose, even if my hands are still bound, I’m going at Ethan. And I can feel the knot beginning to slacken.

  He’s watching them. I ready myself to spring forward. Suddenly his eyes flick up and meet mine. He smirks. Then he turns and sprints at Claire. He raises the machete and swings and Claire shoots.

  The machete falls clattering against the ground. Ethan drops to his knees, clutching his shoulder. SWAT shields plow through the door. Figures in black helmets and facemasks flood through the frame behind them with their rifles raised.

  Ethan howls in pain but he’s immediately surrounded and swallowed up by a sea of bodies. The room fills. Ethan’s howling is drowned out by a harsh blend of numerous voices barking commands.

  The two Club thugs drop down and lay flat on the ground by my feet. I try to get up but the chair lifts with me until the knot comes fully loose and I stumble to the floor, unable to break my fall. I’m free from the chair but my hands are still bound together.

  They surround me. I can’t make out one voice from another, they’re all blended into a barrage of shouting. Even the bodies look blurred together. I lift my head, but I can’t find Claire. There are too many shields and figures between us. I rest my head back against the cement and close my eyes.

  32

  Claire

  “Can I get you another cup of coffee?” the nurse asks me. Her face is framed with short black hair cropped in a straight line at her chin. I glance down at the time on my phone, then up at Liam lying in the hospital bed with his eyes gently sealed. It’s still only 6:20 AM.

  “Please,” I say. I whisper even though she hadn’t. Among his injuries, Liam suffered a severe concussion. He’s supposed to be woken every twenty minutes and there’s still another six until the next interval. I hand over my empty cup. “Thank you.”

  She looks at Liam, then gives me a parting smile on her way out. My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Barlow.

  “Is pretty boy looking any prettier yet?”

  I glance up at Liam, and smile. Then type my reply.

  “Almost prettier than you.”

  And truthfully, Liam does look much better than he did just a few hours ago. The hydrating effect of the IV in his arm has brought some color back to his cheeks. Not enough color to mask the purple and yellow bruises around his right eye, but that’ll take time. And there are some other goodies coming in with that IV to help in the meantime.

  My phone starts to ring and I silence it before even looking so as not to wake Liam. It’s Agent Henry Gordon from the FBI. I push again to ignore the call before quickly pulling up a text.

  “In hospital w/ Liam Carter. Will call back in ten.”

  I tap to send it.

  He’s probably calling to let me know that Ethan has been processed and booked. Agent Gordon’s role in this is over for the time being. He can go back to the FBI office in Miami with a big ol’ smile on his face now. So it was kind of him to call.

  Soon the morning news will break the story, and all of Florida will know the identity behind The Club. And more importantly they know that The Club has collapsed, and all of its members will be brought to justice.

  The nurse returns five minutes later when it’s time to wake Liam again. She hands over my cup of coffee and nudges him on the shoulder. He blinks awake, and I smile as his eyes move from the nurse to me.

  Not long ago I was sitting across from him in another hospital room. But there’s no deputy standing guard outside our door, no safehouse waiting for him. All that is done now. It’s over.

  “What time is it?” he asks.

  “Almost 6:30,” the nurse says automatically. “We can get you out of here soon and you can continue to rest at home as long as you’ve got someone to keep an eye on you.”

  “That’d be great,” he says, looking at me and mustering a grin. I mirror it.

  “Are you his transportation?” she asks me.

  “I am.”

  “We’ll get him signed out here soon.” She’s in an obvious rush to get to another patient, but she still gives us that same parting smile before closing the door on her way out.

  Liam blows air through his lips.

  “How do you feel?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Better, I guess. Ready to go home.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “How do you feel?” he asks.

  For a second I only stare back at him. Aside from the little colored lights on the hospital equipment, the dim lamp to my left is the only light in the room. But there’s still a gleam in his blue eyes.

  “I had a dream about this,” I say. Those words have been itching at my lips and now they’re finally out.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The night after my dad’s funeral I had a dream that someone broke into the house. They came upstairs and went after my dad with a knife and I woke up right before they got to him.”

  “Who was it?”

  “It was just a dark figure, like a big shadow,” I say. “But it was like déjà vu when Anna broke in. It was like the dream playing out in front of me. Anna had a gun and the shadow had a knife but still, it was like this weird premonition. So when Ethan had that machete and when he came at me…” I trail off and pause. “The dream played over in my head again, and I shot.”

  Liam only holds our gaze in silence.

  “So he didn’t get me,” I say, “but he still got to my dad because of me. It’s my fault that he’s dead.”

  Liam is shaking his head. “It’s not, Claire. It’s not your—”

  “That’s not true,” I say. “It’s my fault.”

  “I think if you were working this case and it was someone else’s father then you would see it differently. You’re a victim too,” he says softly. “Just like my dad was, remember? That’s what you said. The difference is you did something about it. Ethan pulled you in but you used it to bring him down.”

  “Eventually,” I say. “A lot of people got hurt before that.”

  “And many more would have if this hadn’t happened,” he says. “It’s over.”

  Yes, it is. I nod.

  “I think I’ll probably have that nightmare for the rest of my life,” I say in spite of myself.

  “Maybe. But you did in reality what you couldn’t do in the dream. Eventually I think that will override the rest.”

  I manage a smile in response. “In the meantime, why don’t you get another twenty minutes,” I say.

  He shrugs. I imitate him.

  “Well close your eyes and put your head back,” I say, standing up. “I’m going to step out and make a call.” I kiss Liam on the cheek and pull up Agent Gordon’s contact on my way out.

  33

  Claire

  Two weeks later

  It’s a nice house. Cute, compact but not cramped. A miniature porch and a little patio out back. Your typical Florida bungalow. The best option so far, but I came to that conclusion the minute we pulled up. The other two houses were blue. Both a dark blue variant, not hideous and not even that unusual, but still blue.

  The 528 Ocean Trail house is vacant, of course. Dad left it to Alison and me in his will and I considered moving in, but it felt wr
ong. It’s hardly the same house. It’s been through too much. Too many things that have forever shaped the contours of the walls and rooms, the feel of the air inside.

  So we put it on the market.

  Alison has a good friend, Kathy Bosman, who offered to list the house and also assist me in my own search. Kathy had a baby boy a month after Alison had Danny, at which point they hatched a plan to force the kind of friendship that parents do when the child is still young enough to tolerate it.

  I’ve essentially given her free reign in the search—my budget isn’t as flexible, but Fort Martin isn’t exactly a real estate hot spot. And Alison took the time to outline my criteria to Kathy beforehand, and judging by Kathy’s selections today, my sister obviously placed an emphasis on budget constraints.

  “I’m sure I don’t need to mention, but this one is even closer to Alison,” Kathy says as we slink out of the master bedroom and into the hall. She gives an enthusiastic bob of her thin eyebrows. She’s a cheery woman with skin that glows of good health. Alison mentioned that they do yoga together and Kathy looks like she adds a disciplined diet to the mix.

  She’s right, this one is especially close to Alison. I’ve been staying in her guest room the last few weeks, so it’d be short and easy move. But what I don’t object to out loud is that it’s closer to her than Liam.

  “Your sister said you’re forgoing a big promotion to move back here, is that true?” Kathy asks. It’s the kind of question most people would chance with a little nervousness, but with Kathy, it’s pure and innocent curiosity.

  “I am.”

  “Good for you.” She punctuates it with a smile.

  I’m not sure how much Alison has told her about the reasons behind the move. Don’t know how much Alison has told her in general, not that there’s anything you can’t learn from the paper or internet. My life’s story is now in the public domain, for better or worse.

  Liam and I follow Kathy back into the modestly sized living room. It’s the last house we’re seeing today, and I’m already looking forward to getting back to Alison’s. I need to get cleaned up before my dinner with Detective Barlow tonight. My new partner, starting Monday.

  Kathy’s phone burrs in her pocket. She draws it, checking the screen and debating for a split second. “Excuse me, let me leave you to look around while I take this.”

  “Sure.”

  “Super quick!” she promises. She’s already halfway through the door to the patio.

  “No, take your time,” I assure her. I take a moment to glance around the room as I turn to Liam.

  “Whatcha think?” he asks.

  I shrug. “It’s a little hard to tell with the way it’s furnished.” The house feels smaller now than when we first came in. Each room is set up like an ad pulled from some posh interior design magazine. It’s pleasant but it’s overdone.

  “Yeah, but you’ll be able to do it your way,” he says. “This place looks like the set of a sitcom. Look at this.” He flicks the switch for a lamp made from a set of old, vintage binoculars. They’re rusted over and hollowed-out to make room for the lightbulbs.

  “I’d bet the total of everything in here costs more than the listing price,” I say. We both laugh but really, I’m only half joking. “They could sure learn a few things from your minimalist design scheme.” I shoot him a look.

  “Oh please.” His eyebrows knot with sarcasm. “My place is furnished with artistic intuition, all right? Not some scheme.”

  “Really?” I reach for the bottom of his shirt, clench it in my fists and pull him closer. He bites his bottom lip, pretending to reject my advance until our lips come together.

  “I have something to show you,” he whispers with my lips rested tenderly on his.

  “What’s that?” I murmur. I plant another kiss before leaning back. He reaches to retrieve a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “What is that?” I ask.

  He hands it to me. “Open it up.”

  I unfold it and furrow my eyebrows. What I’m looking at is just a picture of—and then it hits me. I look up at him.

  I turn the picture of his house around to show him as if he hasn’t already seen it. Liam smiles, raising his hands and opening his palms in a silent offer.

  “I promise I’ll let you override my artistic intuition,” he says. “You can change the whole place.”

  Everything that has swelled up finally bursts out in a laugh. I drop the picture and nearly jump into his open arms. He stumbles back, holding me tight, my chin nestled against his chest.

  “Unless you fell in love with one of the places today,” he jokes.

  “No,” I whisper. “I’m in love with you.”

  “I love you too, Claire.”

  The door to the patio opens. “Oops!” Kathy exclaims. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I let go of Liam. “Just coming to my final decision,” I say.

  She returns a smile, humoring me with an uh-huh look.

  “Thanks for all of your help.”

  “Oh, sure.” She beams in a smile full of straight white teeth, flicking her hand to wave away the comment. “I can show you two more tomorrow?”

  “That’s all right,” I say, finding Liam’s hand with mine. “I think I’ve got it figured out.”

  Her eyes widen at that. “Did you want to make an offer?”

  I shake my head. “I think I’m going to look into something else.”

  Kathy replies with another big white smile. “All right, well let’s lock this place back up,” she says. I don’t know what her conclusion is, but it works.

  * * *

  Barlow is already seated when I arrive. I’m early, but evidently so is he. I wave when I find him seated in a corner booth. There’s a beer waiting for me.

  “And I ordered you the rib-eye,” he says. “Best cut in the house.”

  “How long have you been waiting?”

  He gives one long shrug. It doesn’t matter, not to someone like Barlow. We agreed on 6:30 PM. It’s 6:17, and his glass is empty.

  “How did you know I would like the rib-eye?” I ask.

  Another shrug. “Your pops did.”

  Yes, he sure did. “And how’d you know that?”

  He offers a smile instead of a shrug this time. “He took me here, one time. Long time ago. I hadn’t been more than five years on the job yet.”

  I’m in the process of lifting my beer for a drink, but I stop.

  “Your dad was like that,” he says. “He made a point of extending himself, no matter who it was. I had just lost my wife.”

  I can’t keep the look off my face. “You were so young.”

  He seems to consider that for a moment, then nods. “I guess so. If you’d have asked me then, well…” His lips press together in a firm line, sending aged wrinkles down his chin. “For a while I went to work not minding whether or not I’d make it back home. But your dad…” He stops to let that hang between us. “I don’t know what it was, but he saw it. Somehow. Out of nowhere, he asked me to dinner. Of course I agreed, I already respected the hell out of him. I knew he was the kind of detective that I wanted to be.”

  I smile at that.

  “And that night,” he says, “that night it came to fruition. That one dinner changed my whole career. It changed my life.”

  A warm tear leaks from the corner of my eye. I shut them both. I feel Barlow’s hand rest on mine, and I open.

  “He would have been proud of you, Claire,” he says.

  I nod. “He’s looking down right now, smiling at the two of us sitting here,” I say. And when the rib-eyes finally arrive, I imagine Dad smiling down at that, too.

  * * *

  I wave once more to Barlow as we spill out the front doors. It’s a temporary goodbye. Starting tomorrow, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other. I’m reaching for my phone to call Alison when the car parked in front of me honks. Liam opens the door and steps out.

  “You scared me.”

/>   “You should be more alert, Detective,” he says, wrapping me in a hug. “I thought we could grab some dessert, I’ll drive you home.”

  I nod against his chest. Tonight, home means Alison’s guest room. But that’ll change tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll start moving into Liam’s, and there’s something about that change that already rings of permanence.

  He leans back, pointing down the block. “There’s a good little ice cream joint—”

  “Frozen Freddy’s,” I finish for him. “I grew up here, not you.”

  “Then you lead the way,” he says, taking my hand. And I will. I’ll lead us through some interior redesigning, nights out on the patio, music, and maybe even a cousin for Danny somewhere down the road.

  But first, ice cream.

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