The Last Invitation (26)
“You lied to me.”
That stopped Gabby cold. “What are you talking about?”
“Did he know?”
“Who? Are you hurt?” The conversation fragments and accusatory tone punched through Gabby’s confusion. This wasn’t a random teen tantrum. The staccato beat to Kennedy’s voice. The hint of pain as her voice grew louder. No, this attack came from a different place, meaning something terrible careened right for her.
“Is this why you really wanted me gone? Away, so I can’t see what’s happening?” Kennedy shook her hand and whatever she held in it. “I begged to come home but instead, I got shipped off so you can sleep around—”
“Hey!” What the hell? “Be very careful of what you say next. I know you’re grieving over your father, but I am your mother. You will not disrespect me.”
“Explain this.” Kennedy made the demand then held out a crumpled envelope. She’d obviously opened it and held it and spent time studying it.
“What is it?” Gabby took out the wrinkled piece of paper inside.
“It was delivered to my room. Where everyone could see.” Kennedy choked on a sob. “How could you?”
Gabby glanced down at the blur of words. They moved and danced because her hands shook. A second later the horrible sentences came into focus.
Baines Fielding is not your father. Ask your mother how she really feels about Uncle Liam.
The blood left Gabby’s head. Secrets littered their family’s history, but this one threatened to drain the life out of all of them.
She reached out to Kennedy, needing the small connection between them. “Honey, listen—”
“No.” Kennedy pulled back before Gabby could comfort her. “Tell me the truth. No lectures or lies. Tell me.”
“This is . . .” Gabby stared at the typewritten words again. What the hell did she say now, after spending a lifetime running from this conversation? She needed to avoid this fallout just a bit longer, but—
“Gabby?”
No, no, no. Not now. He couldn’t be here.
Kennedy nodded, looking determined and superior, as if she’d won some silent battle by dragging Liam into this without warning. “I texted him and asked him to come over. He deserves to know . . . unless you guys have been in on this, fooling around, for years.”
“Hey.” Liam stopped beside Kennedy. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
Kennedy’s chin lifted. “Ask Mom.”
Them. Together. Demanding answers. Gabby could barely give them eye contact.
This was her nightmare.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jessa
Jessa was still reeling a half hour later, when she walked out the front gate at Retta’s house. The conversation was . . . What the hell was that?
She wanted to run the comments by Faith, but could she? Retta drove home the point about the group being confidential and the topics they discussed being off-limits outside of the room. But the odd talk wasn’t with the group, so Jessa wasn’t clear on the rules. She just needed to go somewhere and think.
She took out her phone to call for a car service to get home and ran right into some guy. Smacked her arm right into his shoulder. “I’m sorry!”
“It’s fine.”
She could hear the laughter in the man’s voice and for a second thought they might know each other. He did look familiar, but that might be because he looked like a lot of forty-something men in the metro area. Put him in a navy suit and slap a striped tie on him, and he could work in her office.
“Excuse me.” She tried to maneuver around him and get to the street corner and a spot with better cell service.
“Jessa?”
She turned around to face him again. Something in the way he said her name made her twitch. A cool breeze blew over her. She shifted until she stood closer to the street and all the cars idling while waiting for the light a few blocks up to change.
“Do we know each other?” Maybe from law school or a case. His face ticked off a memory that she couldn’t quite grab.
“Baines Fielding.”
Okay, so from that case. One she wanted to forget. Better yet, pretend never happened. “What about him?”
“Did you know him?”
She swiped her finger to unlock her phone. She didn’t have to memorize the man’s face if she took his photo. Snap and hit the emergency SOS button. That was the plan.
“I’m Rob Greene.” He held out his hand. “I’m doing a story on a series of unexplained deaths in the area.”
Oh, hell no.
“I’m leaving.” She hated to put her back to him, but running into traffic struck her as an equally bad idea. She slipped her hand into her bag and pulled out her keys. Let them jangle. Let him realize she would punch, kick, and stab her way to safety, if needed.
She got a few steps before he spoke again. “This issue is not going away.”
Neither was he, apparently. New strategy. She shifted and went back to the gate to Retta’s house and pressed the button on the security pad.
“Good. I’d like to talk to the judge, too,” Greene said, moving closer.
The intercom barely made a sound before Earl, Retta’s husband, stepped out of the gate and onto the sidewalk. He made quite the impression in his expensive suit and equally expensive gold watch . . . holding a baseball bat.