Tell Me True (6 page)

ASH AND I
had a quiet night in, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Cavin's suspicions of the Davenports hit too close to home with what my mother had written in her research… but he didn't know about that, so what had made him say it?

I needed time away from all thi
s, wanted to get away and talk to a close confidant, but no one in my life had been left unscathed by Jon's death—least of all the person who I wanted to talk to the most, my best friend.

The next day I forced myself out of my own shell in order to pull Bridgette out of hers.

Picking my way through her messy bedroom, I turned on the light and then tugged on her arm as she lay in bed with an eye mask on. "Come on, lazy ass. You need to get out of here. How about some retail therapy?" It wasn't my style, but it was how Bridgette coped. Usually.

Today, she wouldn't budge.

"Seriously, girl, you need a shower and a brush. I know you've been through the worst pain imaginable, but you have to go on living. Jon would want that for you. You have to pull yourself together."

She sighed, sat up and pulled off her mask. When she screeched for the light to go away, I obliged. Finally
, she showed herself. She squinted through red, puffy eyes and a tear-blotched face, looking nothing like the pale, elegant creature I knew.

I pulled up the covers and scooted into bed with her. We wouldn't be going anywhere today, obviously.

"You look like shit," I said.

"I know. Now you see why
I can't go out in public."

"Bridgette, I know you cared for him, but I'm worried about you."

We both stared at the ceiling in the dark, listening to each other breathe.

"I'm worried about me
, too," she said. "Is there a funeral date yet?"

"We're still waiting for them to release the… him."

"Right."

More silence.

"Bridgette, it's important to grieve. I know what it's like to lose someone you love." My voice choked on my own grief. "But I can't lose you.
You
can't lose you. You have to fight through it. You have to find something worth living for."

Bridgette paused, then let out a choked sob.
"I think it might be my fault," she said through new tears.

"What? How?"

"I found out something. Something bad. And… I told him. Just before he was killed."

My heart pounded. Did this have anything to do with my mother's book? With all the secrets surrounding the Davenports?

"What did you find out, Bridge?"

"I was going to tell you. I tell you everything, you know that. But it was so close to your wedding and I didn't want to spoil it. So I waited. And I was going to wait to tell Jon
, too, but he knew something was wrong and… I just couldn't lie to him. I ruined everything, Catelyn. Everything."

It was getting hard to understand her through the sobs, and as much as I wanted to know this big secret, I had to calm her down first. "Shh… it's okay. I'm sure it had nothing to do with what happened to Jon."

Bridgette made a feeble attempt to calm herself down. "Catelyn… Jon's father was having an affair. With my mother."

"What? Are you sure?"

"I saw them together. Naked. Ugh, it was so gross. They didn't see me, though. I don't think. But here's the thing. Jon was pissed. Like, angrier than I've ever seen him. He wanted to confront his dad, but I talked him into waiting until after your wedding. But what if he didn't? What if he confronted his dad and…"

I could see w
here her thoughts were heading. "And what if Mr. Davenport killed his son to keep his secret?"

NOTHING BROUGHT FAMILIES
together like weddings. This was even true of estranged families where the brothers liked to beat the shit out of each other.

And so we found ourselves back at the Davenport estate, with Ash grilling up steaks on the barbecue while Bridgette served drinks and I sat and wondered how this family survived itself.

Mrs. Davenport sat next to me and handed me a drink. "You look like you could use one, dear."

I sipped on it. "Thank you, Mrs. Davenport."

"So formal. Call me Louise. After all, you're about to be a Davenport yourself."

"I guess I am."

"How are you and Ash coming along with the wedding plans?" she asked.

Before I can answer, her attention was diverted by a car pulling up to the side of the house. I recognized it as Mr. Beaumont's car.

When Mr. Davenport saw, he stormed at the vehicle. The two men exchanged distant muffled shouts, and Mr. Beaumont drove off, screeching tires as he left.

"Do you know what that was about?" I asked. "Does it have anything to do with
—"

"My own screaming match
with Ashton the last time you were here?" She chuckled. "My problems with Ash's father are a small matter. Men have to be controlled. Kept in check. But for the Davenport men, it's impossible. They're like wild wolves. They're fearless and they take what they want. I've accepted that."

"How do you deal with it
?" I asked, wondering if Ash would turn out like his dad and hoping he wouldn't.

"I make sure Ashton wants for nothing more than me."

Unsure what to say to that, I took another drink and nodded.

She smiled and lifted her own drink to her mouth, her large diamond sparkling in the sun. "Have I ever told you how Ashton and I met? No? Well… I was walking home late from work
a rainy evening, a restaurant I used to wait tables at, and this giant Great Dane jumped on me. It knocked me to the ground, dug its teeth into my shoulder." She pulled down her blouse to show me. "Here, you can see the scar. The beast had gone into a frenzy, spooked by something I must have done. I kicked, screamed, but the Great Dane kept me pinned down. And then I felt the weight lift from my back, the jaw unclasp my shoulder. I turned over on the wet cement. A man had the dog by the neck, strangling it. He eased up, and once again the dog snapped at me. And so the man smothered it. He let go, the dog lying limp in his hands, and helped me stand. He called the medics and they saw to me. They said the dog was dead. The man would face charges.

"I thanked him for saving me. It was Ashton. Later, I learned the dog had been his."

I shuddered at the thought of such viciousness. "Dogs don't usually attack like that."

She shook her head. "No. They don't. Perhaps the Great Dane had inherited some of Ashton's spirit. Perhaps it had grown fearless. Perhaps it had grown to ignore the rules."

I pushed my luck and asked the question that had been burning in my mind since I read my mother's notes. "Have you ever heard of Alpha Pi Omega?"

Louise smirked. "Is that some kind of sorority?"

"Just something I heard in school."

Mr. Davenport called from across the yard. "Louise, come here."

Louise didn't give any indication of hearing him.

"I think your husband wants to talk to you," I said.

"I like to make him wait." She smiled. "It keeps them interested." After a few more moments she stood and sashayed over to her husband.

Jon quickly took her place, sitting beside me.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Better than you."

He chuckled and touched his black eye. "Yeah, still pretty sore."

I saw Ash watching us from the grill and smiled at him, while speaking to Jon. "If I were you, I'd stay away right now. He's not your biggest fan."

"I need your advice on a personal matter."

"Don't you have a 1-900 service for that?"

"Haha. No, it regards something I believe you have experience in." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Is it always right to share the truth, or are some things better left unsaid?"

"The truth can hurt," I said, "but so can lies. I suppose you have to decide what would hurt less."

"And how do I do that?"

I looked at him, his blue eyes so intent and need
ful. "I don't know."

He sighed and stood to leave. "Thank you. You've made me certain of one thing."

"What's that?"

"I'm tired of lying."

I SQUEEZED BRIDGETTE'S
hand, thinking through my response before speaking. It seemed unlikely that Mr. Davenport killed his son just because he might expose his affair with Bridgette's mom. But I didn't know what kind of pre-nup the Davenports had, and I still had my mom's warning blaring in my mind that the Davenports would cause her death.

I assumed one or more of the Davenports was a part of her secret club,
that more information about the identities of the group members was on those destroyed sections. But I'd only pulled out one name. Still, I had clues I could follow, leads I could explore. People I definitely suspected.

"Bridge, I'm so sorry abou
t your mom. But I don't think Mr. Davenport killed his son. And I don't think you telling Jon had anything to do with his murder." She sucked in a sob, and I turned to her. "I know you're not okay, so I won't even ask. But is there anything I can do to help ease your pain?"

"No. I just need time. Time to grieve, time to figure out what to do next. Just time."

Taking the hint, I kissed her cheek, tucked her back in and let myself out quietly as she sunk back into her own despair. I wished I could pull her out of it, but I knew all too well that grief is something each person has to work through on their own.

Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont weren't home, and I was happy to avoid any awkward run-ins with the couple I'd always considered family but who
, it turned out, hadn't felt the same way about me. At least her dad didn't. He still held my mother's choices against me, as if I had anything to do with the legal allegiances my mother chose so long ago.

As I unlocked the door to my Jaguar—Ash's gift to me—I spotted a familiar car out of the corner of my eye and turned to confront the man inside.

The P.I. rolled down his window and didn't even pretend to make excuses.

I leaned in, resting my elbows on the car door. "Shouldn't you be out investigating Jon's death?"

"My client values your safety more than he values answers, it would appear. But don't worry, I do a lot from my computer and phone, so I'm still working while I wait in the car."

"How comforting. I don't like being followed."

He shrugged, his face registering a total lack of care for what I liked or didn't like.

I narrowed my eyes. "Have you been following me since the explosion, or did you start
earlier?" My heart raced at the potential implications.

He smiled and
started to roll up the window, his tone sarcastic. "I'm sorry about Jon. It's quite a tragedy. I heard the funeral is tomorrow. Can't wait to hear your speech."

"Do you know something?" I asked.

"I know you've been lying."

"YOU'RE IMPROVING," JON
said as I hit the ball across the green.

"Thanks. It's coming back to me slowly. Things my dad taught me."

He took his turn and we walked to our balls. "Did you come to a decision regarding your dilemma?"

"Which one?"
he asked, brushing a clump of dirt from his shoe after stepping in a divot.

"The one you asked me about at the barbecue."

"Yes, I chose to keep it buried," he said.

"Care to tell me this secret?"

He smirked. "Like I said, I chose to keep it buried." He hit the golf ball, looking lost in thought. "Sometimes the past is just the past. Sometimes it should have no effect on the present."

He looked across the
fairway as if he saw something that disturbed him, then turned to me, frowning. "I'm sorry, I have to make a call. Can you grab us some food, please, and I'll meet up with you?" Before waiting for me to answer, he walked away while pulling out his cell phone.

I he
aded back to the club house, lugging our golf clubs with me and dropping them by a table in the dining room. After a server took my order, I went in search of a bathroom.

After
I wandered around for several minutes, a woman in blue approached me. "Need any help?" she asked.

"Do you know where the bathroom is?"

"Sure," she said, sticking out her hand. "I'm Molly." Her hazel eyes crinkled when she smiled and I liked her immediately. She had a kind face framed by dark blond wavy hair held back by a clip.

I shook her hand and smiled. "Catelyn. Nice to meet you."

She turned down a hall and I walked with her as she patted her pregnant stomach and laughed. "I have to use the bathroom every fifteen minutes it seems, so it's the first thing I discover when I go someplace."

"How far along are you?"

She laid a hand on her stomach. "Five months. So, you're a golfer?"

It was my turn to laugh. "Not exactly. I used to golf with my dad and find it brings back good memories, if not much skill."

"My dad loved golf," Molly said. "He taught me to play as a child. I actually almost went pro at one point."

"What happened?"

She shrugged petite shoulders. "I didn't try hard enough. Didn't want it badly enough. Then my father passed away and I stopped playing for a long time. I'm an assistant in a hospital now and studying to be a nurse. This time, I won't give up. After all, I have two of us to think about now."

We
had reached the bathroom but stood in front of the door talking.

"What do you do for a living?" Molly asked.

Not wanting to talk about my job as phone sex operator, I told a partial truth. "I study law at Harvard."

"Is that how you know Jon?" She asked. "I noticed you playing golf with him earlier."

"Kind of. Actually, he's about to become my brother-in-law. I'm engaged to his brother. So, you know Jon as well?" It probably shouldn't surprise me that in a country club like this Jon would be well-known.

Molly smiled, her dimpled cheek standing out. "Yes. I'm carrying his child."