Keep No Secrets (43 page)

Jack's mind reels with a plethora of memories. He remembers how Jenny

would barely look at him when she entered the courtroom for her

arraignment. How afterwards she

instructed Earl to tell Jack it was best for him to keep his distance. She refused to let him visit her. Earl said she was angry at Jack for revealing their secret to Earl, but now Jack wonders if that was simply the excuse she gave Earl. Brian's earlier comment plays in Jack's mind like a scratched record.
She's protecting you from a
lot of things
. Is that why, even after Jack admitted to being with her the night of Maxine's murder, she claimed publicly that he was lying, that he would admit to anything to keep her off death row? Had she been trying to protect him?

Unless, of course, Brian is now trying to protect
her
.

Jack can't wrap his head around this new information. He simply doesn't know what to think, whom to believe. "
You
told her that Maxine was your dad's mistress,"

he says. "She didn't know until after her arrest." He speaks the words as conclusions he's trying to understand.

"She didn't believe me at first. She thought it was ridiculous. She thought it was impossible."

So she tried to get a hold of the case file
.

Although Jack and Jenny had been

close friends for nine years, it wasn't until their long night together that she first told Jack about witnessing her family's murders when she was a child. Despite what everyone liked to believe, the two lovers spent just as much time in conversation as they did in bed. But the retelling had upset her, and he was left with too many unanswered questions.

Days later, after she was arrested, Jack requested the decades-old case file from storage in hopes of filling in the holes. It was offsite and not immediately available, but a few days after Jenny had been released on bail, the file room called to advise Jack that someone else had asked for it, too. That someone else was Jenny.

He remembers how furious Jenny

became when he told her he knew she'd tried to get at the file. When he finally saw the contents of it, long after Jenny had left town, he thought he understood the reason for her anger: she had requested the file to keep him and everyone else from learning the secret hidden inside.

Now, it seems, she wanted the file simply to substantiate what Brian had told her.

"So you're saying, in all these years, she never asked about the woman who

destroyed your family?"

"Jenny was nine at the time. She knew nothing of the gossip. As a teenager, she did eventually start asking questions. For the most part, I answered them honestly.

But I never identified the other woman, and she never asked for a name. I think she preferred to leave our father on his pedestal." He pauses. "After all, 'the heart wants what it wants or else it does not care.' Right, Jack?" When Jack remains quiet at the sarcasm, Brian sighs. "I suspect she did some digging of her own.

But if memory serves, Maxine's name was mentioned only once in the papers because the court issued an injunction preventing them from printing it."

Jack remembers finding only one

article in the case file that mentioned Maxine. But he doesn't remember seeing an injunction order.

He decides to confess to Brian he hasn't seen Jenny in months; to Jack's surprise, Brian confesses he already knows that.

"I tried to call her cell a few minutes ago, but she didn’t answer. I need to find her."

"Why?"

With that one question Jack senses how close Brian and Jenny are, how loved she is. Even in middle age, her big brother looks out for her.

"I'd like to ask her some of these questions myself, and hear the answers."

"Forgive me, Jack, but I'm skeptical.

Aren't you in the middle of your trial?"

"Yes." He sighs, decides to take a chance. "I found out who sent the letters to Jenny. I need to talk to her about it. It could help my defense."

"But will it help
her
?"

"Why wouldn't it?" Jack shoots back.

"She's the one who asked me to help her, God damn it, and I risked my job to do it.

Now that I have the information she wants, she's going to hide from me?

What's she so afraid of?"

"From what she says, the last time you two talked, you gave her plenty to be afraid of. You were convinced she's a murderer."

"She has nothing to fear from me." He suddenly wonders what would happen if he never saw her again. What if he were convicted, and the time between the trial and his last appeal was all he had? He remains suspicious of her, but the desperation he feels to see her has nothing to do with thinking Maxine Shepard's murderer might go free. "Brian, please. Please just tell me where she is."

Brian takes a resigned breath. Did he hear the alarm in Jack's voice? "I don't know. She's in St. Louis, but that's all I know. Since she left your brother's, she's made a point of not telling me her whereabouts. Perhaps she knew how persuasive you could be." He loads the last sentence with implications that Jack resents. At Jack’s silence, he asks, "Have you checked her house?"

"Not yet."

"I'd start there. I told her it's risky, but she doesn't listen to me much. If she's not there, I don't know what to tell you."

"Will you be talking to her? Can you ask her to call me?"

"I will, but I don't know that it will make a difference."

Jack tries to remember the original point of his call. He hasn't found Jenny, and he still doesn't understand why she tried to commit suicide. If she's innocent, as she and Brian claim, what had been going through her head?

"I still don't get it. You said she slit her wrist because she was afraid of being arrested again, but I don't buy it."

"That's not what I said. I said she wouldn't go
talk
to someone because she was worried about being found out. I guess she didn't trust the therapist-patient privilege." Again, that disdain of the law.

"Her reasons for trying to end her life ran much deeper."

"I'm all ears."

Brian softens his tone. "I think she's the only one who can explain those to you, Jack. And I promise you, although she might pretend otherwise, there's nothing she wants more than to be able to tell you, and for you to be strong enough to listen."

Jack slowly sets the phone on his desk. He hears thunder and he swivels to look out the window behind him. The clouds have finally relinquished their hold on the rain.

Despite Jenny's lies, a small part of Jack held out hope for her innocence and thought the proof to exonerate her would eventually surface, one way or another.

Does this news about Maxine qualify?

Brian said Jenny didn't know Maxine was the same woman who had been their father's mistress, but even if that were true, does it follow that Jenny wasn't involved in her murder? He can't really conclude it does.

On top of everything, he now knows she also lied about the fourth letter. He's determined to learn the truth. As much as he hates to admit it, he still fears if anything surfaces, it will be the evidence that finally forces him to accept her culpability.

He stands and looks down at the street below. The sidewalks teem with men and women caught in the rain and rushing to find shelter. They give only passing attention to the numerous news trucks at the curb; anyone interested in the case is inside waiting for the recess to end. If he's going to find Jenny, he'll need to leave the courthouse unseen. The biggest hurdle will be avoiding the press and the crowd of spectators roaming the halls and lobby, but he knows the bowels of the building well enough to manage that. The rain will provide cover, too.

Five minutes later, with only a cryptic note to Earl letting him know he'll be back soon, he escapes out a rear door next to a loading dock and makes haste for the parking garage before anyone discovers his absence. He greedily sucks in the fresh smell of the spring storm. For a brief instant, his fears—about going to prison, about his marriage, about Jenny—

are replaced with an unusual sense of freedom that he hasn't felt in a long, long time.

When Jenny's cell phone rings, she’s relieved to see it’s Brian.

"Guess who I just got a call from?" he asks.

"He called
you
?"

"Yup. It took him a while to admit it, but he's looking for you."

"What do you mean by
it took him a
while to admit it
?"

"At first he asked only about the scar on your wrist. It wasn't until later that he told me he needed to find you."

"What'd you tell him?"

"About the scar? Or about where you are?"

"Both."

"I told him if he wanted to know why you did it, he'd have to ask you. As for where you are, I told him only that you're in St. Louis, but that I didn’t know where.

To buy you some time, I suggested he try your house. He asked me to let you know he needs to talk to you. He claims to know who sent the letters."

Jenny sits up straighter at this news.

"He said that?" When they talked at Mark's house, Jack was convinced she'd sent them to herself.

"Yeah, but I'd be wary. There's something he wasn't saying."

If Jack knows who sent the letters, does that also mean he knows about the fourth one, the one she didn't show him? Is that why he asked Brian about the scar on her wrist?

"Do you think he knows?" she asks.

"No. He thinks he's getting warm, but based on everything he said, he's not."

Brian sighs. "Look, Jen, just be careful. As much as I think he deserves to know everything, I also think he's got another agenda, and until you know what it is, I don't think you should trust him."

"He won't do anything to hurt me."

"If it means saving his own butt, he might."

"No."

"Jenny, you're in denial. When he found out about Maxine, he went public with the information, remember?"

"That had nothing to do with saving his butt. He's always been about right and wrong. He was just doing what he

thought was right. He was afraid Alex might have been wrongly convicted.

Don't forget, he gave me my alibi even though he knew the consequences. And only a couple months ago he gave me a head start out of town before he turned
himself
in for questioning."

Brian scoffs. "You're thinking with your heart instead of your brain again, sis."

"So what if I am? Maybe we all should be so brave."

Her brother laughs at that. "Then tell him. Take your chances and tell him."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE BLACK SHUTTERS around the

tall, narrow windows of the rehabbed Victorian duplex need a new coat of paint, and no colorful bulbs pop from the beds like they did every spring when she lived here. Otherwise, the exterior looks the same as the last time Jack was here, more than four years ago. Someone has minimally maintained the small front yard. A bit of shrubbery frames each side of the two sets of steps—one leads to Jenny’s door, the other to her neighbor’s

—and two patches of brown Zoysia grass line the short walkway from the street.

The landscape is simple, but neat and tidy.

The house faces Lafayette Square. He parallel parks in front, on the street side closest to the park, and looks up at the house. The pounding rain coats his car windows with a thick veneer of water, blurring the picture. In all this time, he never came back. Not even to look. He never even drove by on his way to somewhere else. Indeed, he went out of his way to avoid it. He always told himself he did it for Claire, but now, looking across the street at the red door, he knows he did it for himself. Out of sight, out of mind, perhaps. Except it didn’t quite work out that way.

She's not inside. He knew as soon as he pulled up. It’s not that he expected to see lights or other evidence of life. If she were there, she’d make every effort to hide her presence. But somehow, still, he knows. Brian knew, too.

He's going in anyway.

He slams the car door shut and quickly crosses the empty street, stepping around potholes and puddles. It takes only a few minutes to find the faux stone in which she used to hide a key, but already the rain has soaked his head and found its way under his coat. Why is it always raining when he's here? The small stone is tucked under the steps in the same spot as always, mixed in among many real ones.

The key, too, is still inside.

He knocks first, but only as a formality.

He slips the key into the keyhole. Once inside, a stale smell greets him. The air is slightly frigid, as if the house held winter inside even as outside the season gave way to spring. He locks the door and then stands for a moment, steeling himself.

He tries each of the three switches near the door to see if any lamps come on. The electricity is off, as he suspected.

Everything is in its place. But for dust on every surface, the room is just as he remembers, only more sterile. Impersonal knickknacks line the fireplace mantel; she must have taken any that had meaning.

Throw pillows are propped perfectly in each corner of the couch, and draped over the back is the familiar blue and gray afghan he covered her with that night. He remembers her affection for it and wonders why she didn't take it. A stack of magazines rests neatly on the end table.

The top one, a Newsweek, is dated a mere two weeks after the last time he was here.

She must have skipped town not long after the lie detector tests ostensibly cleared her.

He starts for the kitchen in the back.

As he passes the bottom of the stairs, he hears a noise and halts. Silent and holding his breath, he waits for the sound to repeat. Only after he hears muffled laughter through the shared wall of the duplex does he relax and resume his tour.

After a quick glance in the kitchen, he moves upstairs. The stairwell grows darker after the 180º turn at the landing.

He heads first to her study at the back of the second floor, a room he’s never been in. But like the others, it reveals little about the woman who once lived here.

He finally turns toward the bedroom at the front. His earlier decision to break in can only be blamed on the existence of this one room, on his desire to return to it one more time.
She's like a drug to you
. If Claire is right, then this room is his opium den.