The Charity (60 page)

She imagined what her family might have said to her now that she knew the truth. The horror that they lived through, seeing their hard work become a toy to someone’s capricious whim must have been unbearable. The Charity used the tool of fear effectively and forged an honest family into pawns. Eventually, the sharp edges of the granite stones blurred and tears turned to ice on frozen cheeks. She had never felt hatred before in her life. But now, knowing what happened to her family and Anna and why, she tasted hatred for the Charity. Saying silent prayers to her family and God, she asked that she not be motivated by the bile of emotion inside of her. There was nothing more for her to do.

The windswept woman placed poinsettias down in the snow and later made arrangements with the cemetery caretaker that mountain laurel bushes be placed on the site as soon as planting was possible. She also arranged for her headstone to be replaced by one for Anna. Jessica thought it was so right for Anna to be buried with the only family she had really known. Bridget loved her as a daughter, too. She swallowed back the huge lump in her throat and her heart ached at the deep void in her life. She vowed that hatred would not become a part of her.

Visiting Gus’ grave had been a shock. Not only was it beside her Aunt Bridget’s grave, but no headstone marked his grave and she had to dig through deep snow to read the small iron marker with nothing more than a plot number on it. To see them buried together seemed right in a way she did not fully understand. She could see some cold-blooded paparazzi snapping pictures in the distance and pushed them out of her mind, saying a quiet prayer to the man who loved her as a daughter and whom she loved as a father. It was clear to her that Gus died protecting her from the Charity. She fought back the growing hatred of him for his involvement with the group and the problems he caused her family. She had a deeper understanding of the pressures which must have driven him. In time, if she tried hard enough, she could probably forgive him. At least, she hoped so.

She ordered a large red granite stone and requested that it be engraved with a horse head and interlocking horseshoes. The wizened little gnome of a man selling the gravestones pressed her for an epitaph. She looked at him and without emotion said, “In time, truth wins.”

Shaking the chill of cold and death from her, she left the cemetery and the old ghosts behind.

On the returning train ride to Boston, she let her mind wander. Few people were going into Boston at this time of day, leaving her free to be alone with her thoughts. Public transportation was her only alternative until she could get her license—in her real name.

The shock of seeing her own grave did not wear off and she was tired. Now that she was indeed alive, she thought that there must be a mountain of paperwork to do in order to be declared a ‘living’ person once again. Getting her legal identity back as Jessica Wyeth would take some doing. Shea would certainly help her on this. Arriving at the station, she called him at his office.

“Jessica! Where the hell have you been?”

The tone of his voice caught her off guard. “If you wanted to know where I was, you should have just called any newsroom in Boston. Any reporter would have been able to tell you that I went to visit my family’s graves.”

“Right. It’s just that you missed our lunch date and I had a few things planned for you. Where are you now?”

“I’m at North Station.” She paused for a second. “Hey. If you wanted me to join in your plans, you should have told me about them.”

“Right. Stay there. I think there’s a coffee shop on the street level. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

“Fine.” She hung up the phone with more force than was needed. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Being free did not mean she was free from performing someone else’s agenda. She owed Shea a lot and the least she could do was treat him with civility and not get so easily irritated. There was something presumptive, almost proprietary, about his manner that started to get under her skin, but she resolved to let it go attributing her edginess to profound fatigue.

Within fifteen minutes, she was sitting next to him in his car.

“We have a few functions to go to tonight. We brought some clothes to the hotel. You can pick out what you want.” Shea focused on weaving his car in and out of the building rush hour traffic.

“Oh? Thank you, I guess. What kind of ‘
functions’
are we going to?”

“Dinner with a few friends and a press gathering or two. After your comment about being trailed by reporters, I think it’s best for you to be available to them on a limited basis to answer a few questions. Give them what they want and they’ll give you what you want. Privacy.”

“Don’t forget what you want.”

“Pardon?”

“I said, don’t forget to get what you want out of this little ‘show and tell’ session tonight, too.”

Shea glanced at her with knitted brows. “Right now I’m focused on you. So is everyone else, for that matter.” He brought the car to a stop at a red light and took the opportunity to assess her. He missed the clue of what was going on inside of her.

“Jessica. I know this is hell for you and you wanted this over now. You won’t have a normal life for a while. I’m sorry. It’s just the way it is.”

Jessica took off her gloves and gnawed at the cuticle on her index finger. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Teeth pulled at the skin around her nail. “Shea? I need to become ‘me’ again—Jessica Wyeth. I forgot that people really thought I was dead until I saw my grave today.”

Shea looked over at her and was immediately aware of how spent she looked. “That must be what’s bothering you. Right. There is already a motion filed to have that grave exhumed and for the remains of whomever or whatever is in there to be identified. From what I can tell from what Keenan in Forensics said, it will be pretty hard to get anything clearly from the charred bone fragments. Any DNA testing will take some time.”

“No. Forget about that. I know who’s in my grave.”

“What? Who?”

“Anna, my friend who was at my house that day. She went to find me at our favorite place.”

Shea paused and put the pieces together. “I think you’re right. Jessica, I’m so sorry.”

Jessica wiped away a tear from her cheek. “I forgot about her.”

“It’s been a long, terrible story, Jessica. Now that you’re back from the dead you can start making things right—like remembering Anna appropriately.”

The thought made Jessica shiver. “What do I have to do to become ‘me’ again?”

“It’s straightforward. I’ll use my contacts to help you quickly and without a lot of fuss. There’s no shortage of willing listeners and your paperwork will whiz through the process. It’s one small fringe benefit of being a temporary celebrity. Even the smallest clerk will hurry along in an effort to keep in your good favor. It certainly helps that they may also be currying favor with a future governor.”

“So I’ve heard. When can we do it?”

“That was one of the things we were going to work on today, but tomorrow will be okay, too.”

“Okay. Okay. I didn’t think I had to report to you where I was going.”

“I was just concerned until Abbey straightened me out. She reminded me that in no uncertain terms would Jessica Wyeth be tethered by convention.”

“Good guess. Is that all she said?”

“Well, the fact that I assumed you would be available when I called proved to Abbey that I was clueless as to the type of woman you are. I’m not comfortable with anything I don’t have total control over.”

“Like me?”

“Like you.”

They wound their way back to the hotel. Once Jessica showered, she felt refreshed and realized she did not want to spend any more time alone in a hotel room. She looked at the outfits Abbey and Shea had chosen for her. There were several in different styles and colors. Jessica laughed to herself. Shea might take the credit, but Abbey definitely did the work. There was even a small package of cosmetics attached to one of the dresses. Jessica used it to cover the last of the fading yellow bruises. Putting on a teal silk dress, she declared herself ready for the wolves.

As much as she hated to admit it, the parties arranged for her and Shea were exciting. Well-wishers appeared from out of nowhere and offered words of congratulations and sympathy for her. She hated being the center of attention and was relieved to see people gathering around Shea as well. In spite of herself, Jessica scanned the room for Michael’s distinctive build. She didn’t know if she was happy or sad that he was not at the night’s events. Michael’s words about Shea’s little stint as the Murdering Heiress’ benefactor serving to boost his career rung in her ears and she tried to block them as she watched Shea work the crowd.

Whatever Shea had said about people being focused only on her was wrong, as he was the man of the hour and he knew it. His time was spent judiciously courting the press and painstakingly rebuilding his reputation and putting the required spin on the harboring a fugitive rumors. He need not have worried about that, she soon found out. It seemed that hardly anyone doubted his commitment to fighting crime and his concern for the people and the safety of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

The evening finally ended and Shea brought Jessica back to her room. He did not wait for an invitation and entered. Another bottle of champagne had arrived and sat, chilling on ice.

Shea walked over and popped the cork.

“The next few weeks are going to be just as busy as tonight.” He was talking more to himself than to Jessica.

“Weeks? I thought tomorrow would be it.”

“Well, my research on the money laundering charges against the Charity and Unity Green turned up some unexpected benefits. I uncovered a small fortune in securities and other assets which were being held pending the expiration of the Wyeth Family Trust.”

“What are you saying?”

“During my search in the Registry of Deeds and reviewing the documents recovered from Joseph Tripp’s office I turned up a few things. As I suspected, Tripp was forced to go along with many provisions of the trust documents he felt your family was coerced into executing. Tripp did the minimum to comply with Unity Green.”

“I remember something my aunt said about annual payments. I hated that then. She wanted to keep strings attached to the money to make sure I didn’t blow it. Even though she set up those secret accounts I told you about, she also wanted to make sure I would visit her now and then. ”

“Right. Well those payments became the bane of Tripp’s existence. Magnus’ men seized on the payment provision and forced Tripp to make them to Charity. He paid only as much as was necessary to keep the thugs off of his doorstep, but even those payments drained the bulk of the corpus of the trust.”

“Corpus? You make it sound like a body.”

“In a way. The corpus is the complete body of cash that funds the trust. Anyway, the amount of the trust is no longer the multimillion-dollar pot it once was. I expect to transfer over three and a half million dollars to you. Not bad for coming back from the dead.”

“My God! That’s incredible!”

Shea sat back and smiled. “What do you expect to do with it?”

“I’m not sure. At least I can pay back the people that helped me after the break-in and fire and buy some decent animals! What about Tripp? Doesn’t he get paid, too?”

“It seems that the stress of keeping the Charity away from that cash was too much for the old man. He slid into alcoholism and lost his wife, family, and all but one or two of his clients as a result. The financial ruin he faced blurred his ethics to a point where he felt entitled to dip into the trust once in a while for more than executor fees. Tripp will be more than happy to assist me in transferring the vested assets of the trust into your name. Doing so will be Tripp’s own way of exorcising the ghosts of his past and purging his mind of the guilt of raiding your trust as much as he did.”

“Maybe I can get my family’s belongings, too.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. I was able to find some boxes and furniture in prepaid storage, but the great bulk of the items were sold at the time the estate was liquidated. It’s a disappointment. I can arrange to ship the recovered boxes down to Perc.”

“I need to get out of Boston, Owen. I hate being under a microscope. I don’t know how you can tolerate the press in your face like that.” She accepted the glass and raised it in a silent toast. “I have to say you handle them beautifully.”

“Right. Thanks.” Shea moved toward the window and sat down in one of the wingback chairs in the corner of the room. He motioned for Jessica to sit in the other. Instead, she stood by the window, peeking out at the traffic below.

“Will you go back to Perc?”

Jessica fingered the stem of the fluted glass. “Yes. For now. There is nothing for me here in Massachusetts. My family is gone. Worldwind Farm is a housing development for the aspiring rich.” She took a long pull of champagne and let the liquid settle on her tongue while she thought. “I have a farm in Perc. I started to build a life there.”

“As ‘Tess White.’ How do you think they are going to react to you coming back with a different name? A whole new past?”

She thought about what he said. He was right. It was not going to be easy. “I don’t know. What I do know is that I started to make a fresh life for myself there. It’s the first place I’ve had roots in a long, long time. Even at the parties you’ve taken me to around here, the children cower and whisper in corners about me. My aunt used to say, ‘what the children act out is what the parents talk about.’”

“It’s a small southern town. Be aware that people may feel deceived and lied to. It could be tough for you just to step back into Tess White’s shoes.”

Jessica pursed her lips and shrugged. “I know. I know you have a point. But you must know that I have to try. What else am I supposed to do?”

Shea did not like the idea of Jessica returning to Perc. He walked across the room, placed his glass on the table and brushed the hair away from her face. “You know, once the hoopla dies down, Boston is a great place to live. There is still a lot of work we have to do. You might grow to like it here.” He looked at her. “I wish this was over for you, Jessica.”