Missing Pieces(87)



“She had all of us doubting one another,” Amy said quietly. “She had Dean thinking I was the one who killed Julia and had me believing it was Dean.” She turned to Sarah. “If you hadn’t pushed so hard to find out what happened, I would still be in jail and probably would be for the rest of my life.” She struggled to hold back her tears. “Thank you.”

“I wish you could stay longer,” Hal said longingly.

“We’ll be back,” Sarah promised. “And you can all come see us anytime you’d like. You would love Montana.”

Hal turned to Jack. “I guess you’ll want to change your name back to Tierney now that you know the truth about your dad.”

“No.” Jack shook his head, his eyes welling with tears. “I’m proud to be a Quinlan and I couldn’t have asked for a better man to step in to be a father to me and Amy.”

Hal reached up and laid a hand on his nephew’s cheek and reached for Amy’s hand. “Julia loved you like you were her own children, and I do, too.”

“I know,” Jack managed to say while Amy wept into her uncle’s shoulder.

*

Sarah thought she could never love a place more than she loved their small home in Larkspur. Once back home, she spent countless hours, bundled up warmly, sitting on their back patio overlooking the lake and surrounded by mountains. She would watch as Winkin, their dog, trotted down the wooden steps to the end of the burnished brown deck and paced back and forth, scanning the water in search of a flicker of movement—a water bug skating across the surface, a duck not yet ready to head south wading nearby and, if he was especially lucky, a largemouth bass.

For the past few weeks, as they healed, Sarah and Jack moved cautiously around each other. Both were deeply bruised physically and emotionally. Elizabeth and Emma were overly attentive, calling two or three times per day, and Sarah’s mother came over every single day. So many times, Sarah would catch Jack looking at her, and she could see the words ready to spill from his lips. What would he say? Would he be angry at her for not telling him about the emails right away? For digging through his mother’s crime-scene evidence? For not trusting him?

Or would he apologize for not being forthright about his history? Would he beg for her forgiveness for leading her blindly into a town filled with secrets, to a disturbed woman intent on eliminating her?

For a while Sarah never gave him the chance. Every time he seemed ready to speak about the events in Penny Gate, she would look away or change the subject or retreat to the patio or her bedroom. Sarah didn’t know if their marriage would be able to withstand all that had happened. Jack wasn’t a murderer, but he also wasn’t the man she thought she married. As a teen he had pushed his mother down and threatened his parents. He had lied to her in countless ways, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to trust him again.

Jack came to her on a late-October afternoon. She was sitting on an old stump at the edge of the lake, looking out onto the smooth water, trying not to think about the damp, dark cellar, of cobwebs and of a lone lightbulb swaying overhead.

He knelt down in front of her and laid his head on her lap. “I loved you the minute I met you,” he murmured. Sarah sat very still, her hands hanging loosely at her sides. “I wanted to tell you about what happened to my mom and dad. What I thought happened to them, but I was so afraid.” He lifted his face from her lap and looked up at her. “I wanted a chance at having a family. A real family. I was afraid that if I told you about how my mom died, about how I was a suspect, about my dad, I thought you would run the other way. I knew if I didn’t make a family with you, I never would, and I wanted that so, so badly. You and the girls have given me what Celia stole from me. Please forgive me, Sarah, please. I couldn’t stand it if I lost my family all over again.”

Tentatively, Sarah lifted one hand and lightly brushed his hair from his forehead with her fingers and nodded. “You haven’t lost us,” she whispered. “We’re right here.”

*

Keep reading for an excerpt from THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE by Heather Gudenkauf





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

AN IMMEASURABLE AMOUNT of gratitude goes to my editor, Erika Imranyi. Her eye for detail, never-ending patience, collaborative nature and humor have made her a joy to work with. Thanks also to Liz Stein for her insights.

Thank you to Marianne Merola and Henry Thayer for all the behind-the-scenes support and encouragement.

Special thanks goes to my early readers—Jane and Meredith Augspurger, Lenora Williams and Ann Schober. Your input and encouragement was priceless. Thanks also to Mark Dalsing, who patiently fielded my questions about law enforcement.

Much gratitude goes to my parents, Milton and Patricia Schmida, and my five siblings. I love you all.

Finally, thank you to Scott, Alex, Anna and Grace for your support and faith in me—love always.





“Beautifully written, compassionately told and relentlessly suspenseful.”

—Diane Chamberlain, New York Times bestselling author, on The Weight of Silence

Looking for more great reads from Heather Gudenkauf? If you liked Missing Pieces then you won’t want to miss these powerful and emotionally searing ripped-from-the-headlines stories, available now in ebook format:

The Weight of Silence These Things Hidden One Breath Away Little Lies (novella)

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