Troubled Waters (The Lake Trilogy, Book 2) (32 page)

“There is one last thing you need to be extremely cautious about, Tyler. You must call him John tonight. He’s been here since he left Davidson, building a life as John Holland, and that’s how everyone here knows him,” I instruct. I know that Tyler will do his best, but we should be certain that one of us is with him until we know he’s got it.

“I understand. I…I just can’t believe this.” Tyler wipes the tears from his face and hugs me. “I don’t know if I should be mad that you’re just telling me now, or thrilled that you’re telling me at all.”

“Be thrilled,” I tell him, squeezing him closer. “Will is going to be here any minute. Freshen up and wait in the kitchen. Caroline will show you where it is and then she’ll come out to the living room with me. He’ll think that Caroline is his surprise. Then, I’ll bring him in the kitchen and watch him totally freak out! I can’t wait!”

All goes as planned when Will walks into the house. He’s shocked at the décor and happy to see Caroline. I explain my idea of an un-birthday party to him and, after some coaxing, he concedes.

“That’s good, because all our friends are going to be here in a few hours!” I kiss Will sweetly and take his hand to lead him to the kitchen. “I didn’t know what to get you…”

“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to get me anything. It’s not even my real birthday,” he says, but I shoot him a look and he knows he should give up now. “But whatever it is, I know I’ll love it!”

“That’s more like it! As I was saying, I didn’t know what to get you, so I decided to go big, or go home! Close your eyes!”

I walk Will into the kitchen and don’t have to say a word. Tyler does it all for me.

“Hey man,” Tyler says softly, still not believing that Will is really alive.

“Tyler!” Will races across the kitchen and the two men are holding each other like brothers do.

Tears are streaming down all of our faces as we share in this incredible moment. Will has missed Tyler terribly, but hasn’t been able to verbalize it. He left everything behind for me, so the last thing he was ever going to tell me is how much he missed something he left.

“I missed you so much, man! I can’t believe you’re alive!” Tyler squeaks out.

“I can’t believe you’re here! How? When did they tell you?” Will looks at Tyler, joy pouring from his eyes.

“Layla lured me here under the guise of a birthday celebration for her. I just got here a couple of hours ago, and she didn’t waste any time in telling me everything. She’s good!”

“Yes, she is. C’mere,” Will says pulling me to him. “Thank you for this. It’s amazing to have him back.”

“I knew you were missing him but would never say it out loud. He’s family and we just couldn’t keep him out of the loop forever. You need someone, too. Happy un-birthday, babe.”

“I’m speechless. I…thank you, all of you.” Will wipes the new tears forming from his eyes.

“Ok…” I say, breaking the mushiness of the mood. “Tyler is going to be here for four days. You have all weekend to re-bond with him. Our new friends will be here in a few hours. Go change and get ready for the party. I brought all your stuff from the apartment for the whole weekend. Wes is staying with your mom and the four of us are going to have an old fashioned slumber party!”

Will’s un-birthday party was a huge success. In all, we had about 25 people here. About half of them were actual friends of ours, but they brought significant others, and then some. Word got out about the theme of the party and everyone just had to see it for themselves. No one left disappointed either, as Claire and I made sure everyone went home with a Mad Hatter silk top hat and a few
Drink Me
&
Eat Me
favors. At the end of the night, Will said it was by far the best party he’s ever had. He quickly followed it up by saying that it will be outshined next year in July as our wedding reception will “kick this party’s ass,” as he put it.

We’re putting Caroline on a plane back to California this afternoon. She’s got a great internship with some famous interior designer to the stars and has to be in the office bright and early on Monday morning. I loved every second with her and already miss her as her tiny body disappears into the crowd of people entering the check-in area.

“So you two are really getting hitched, huh?” Tyler says as we make our way home from the airport.

“We’re really getting hitched!” Will says.

“When’s the big day? I’m invited, right?” Tyler asks.

“July sixth, next year, and, duh! Why wouldn’t you be invited?” I say punching his arm from the back seat of Will’s car.

“Well…I just found out Will is still alive, so… And, I wasn’t sure how it was going to work. You know, Layla Weston marrying some guy named John Holland. How
is
that going to work?”

“It’s going to be small, at the gardens where Layla’s parents were married,” Will smiles his brilliant, heart-stopping smile at me in the rear view mirror. I smile back feeling grateful to have a fiancé who truly cares that our wedding day is as special and filled with meaning as possible.

“We won’t do any of the things we would have been obligated to do if things were different and we were getting married in Davidson. Like, there won’t be any newspaper announcements or a professional photographer. Wes is pretty handy with a camera so we’ll have him take pictures,” I add.

“I think I get the newspaper thing, but why no professional photographer?” Tyler asks.

“They all have web sites now where they feature the weddings they’ve shot. It’s just to make sure Layla’s name stays out of the system. Luke will take care of changing her name legally, but get her a new social security number so that her old one is still registered to Layla Weston. And we won’t change her name with the school since her school records will be attached to her original social.”

“I see…I think.” Tyler furrows his brow so Will further explains.

“We have to operate as if Layla Weston’s moves are being monitored electronically. The only way for Layla to change her name when we get married is if we get her a new social security number.”

“Are Layla’s moves being monitored?” There’s a hint of nervousness and fear in Tyler’s voice. It’s a lot to take in and understand, so I get it.

“We don’t have any evidence of that right now. Wes is tight with all the guys, even the new ones, working for my father. They all hate him for what he’s coerced them into doing for him, so they’re happy to help Wes by being his eyes and ears on the inside. But, we can never be too safe.”

“I just want you guys to be safe, ok?”

“We’re taking good care of each other,” I say. “It takes a village, you know!”

After quick showers and a review of the movies playing, I tell the boys to go out and have fun doing whatever it is they do for fun, and enjoy the last hours they have before we say goodbye to Tyler tomorrow. They’ll see some action flick that I would have seen out of obligation as the good soon-to-be-wife, so when they leave I give Tyler an extra hug for getting me out of it.

Luke and Claire are out to dinner and Wes is still at Eliana’s. The house is quiet, which is rarely ever the case, and I’m enjoying it thoroughly.

I’ve been reading for while in the Great Room and really need to get up and stretch. I find myself walking down the hall to the office. As I creek the door open I’m struck again by the massive amounts of paperwork and stacks upon stacks of files. I can hardly wrap my brain around the fact that all of these files contain evidence against one man’s flagrant abuse of the law.

I don’t want to disturb the files Luke and Wes have left open in mid-comparison, but there are files on the credenza that are all askew and I can’t help but give in to my need to straighten them up. I flip open the top file folder and peruse the documents. It’s all legal stuff and I have no idea what I’m looking at.

Shaking my head at the enormity of it all, I close the file and work to create a stack with more stability.
One down, a kabillion to go.
As I move down the row and work on the next stack, I guess I get a bit too animated because I end up knocking the next stack in line, causing the top few files to slide and fall to the floor.
Great!

They seemed to fall keeping most of their contents close to the file they came from – mostly out, but still hanging on for dear life. As I work to clean up my mess something in one of the files catches my eye. This file isn’t filled with legal paperwork. It’s filled with black and white photographs, big ones the size of the file folder itself. I’ve seen enough crime dramas on TV to know that these are surveillance photos.

I flip through the pictures, not recognizing anyone or anything that I’m looking at until I see a photo of Eli’s father, Alexander Briggs.
Poor guy. Just doing his job got him killed.
I decide I’ll look at just a few more, out of sheer curiosity, when my world stops. At first I think my eyes are fooling me. There’s no reason why there should be pictures of the accident the night my parents died.
What?
They’re not just of the aftermath. It’s the accident in motion.
How?

I take the stack of photos and sit on the floor, examining each one, tears filling my eyes as I relive the horror. The vantage point is from the sidewalk, far from the side of the intersection where we landed. There’s Dad’s car, and the one that hit us coming straight for us. It was raining so hard that night, but the pictures are so clear. They obviously were taken from a safe and dry location.

Picture after picture tells the story of the worst night of my life, everything from the moments leading up to the accident to the swarm of police cars and ambulances. There’s the fire department using the Jaws of Life to open my father’s door…his lifeless body being pulled from the car…me, on a stretcher being wheeled into an ambulance. There’s blood all over us. Then there is a series of pictures of the police draping a white sheet over my parents’ dead bodies. They’re so sequential, if I flipped them in order it would look like a movie. I don’t understand who would have taken these pictures and why. Moreover, why are they here? What do they have to do with Gregory Meyer?

“Layla! We’re home!” Claire calls out.

I don’t answer.

“Layla?” Claire calls again. She repeats my name a few times until she becomes louder in her approach to the office. “There you are! What are you doing in –.” Claire stops cold in her tracks seeing what I’m looking at and the tears streaming down my face. “Layla, honey…”

“I don’t understand,” I choke out as Luke joins Claire in the doorway.

“Oh, Layla.” Luke runs his hands through his hair as he strides across the room to join me.

“What…what are these?” I manage in between sobs.

“Layla, I…I know this is difficult…but…you really don’t need to know,” Luke says softly as he gently takes the pictures from me.

“How could I not need to know why there are real time pictures of the accident that killed my parents?”

“Come, let’s get you some tea,” Claire says as she pulls me from the floor and escorts me from the room.

As I settle at the kitchen table with freshly made hot tea, I notice the time. It’s just 9:00 pm so I know I won’t be seeing Will and Tyler stroll in anytime soon. This buys me some time to get some answers from Luke and Claire.

“Thank you for the tea. Can you please tell me what’s going on now? And, P.S., I hate having to ask that question all the time. I wish people would just tell me without me finding out and then having to ask.” I may be calm, but it doesn’t mean I’m not mad.

“Layla, there are things that you don’t need to know,” Luke says.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I retort. There have been only a few times since living with Luke and Claire that I have responded like a bratty teenager. This is one to add to that list.

“No, you won’t. Don’t push this, Layla.”

“If it has to do with my parents’ death, I think I have a right to know!” I demand, raising my voice.

“Why? What difference is it going to make?” Luke’s temper is rising and I can see that I’m really pushing him on a subject he wants to protect.

“Tell me! Tell me why there are pictures of the night I killed my parents!” I shout.

“Layla! Don’t say that!” Claire scolds.

“Then tell me why the hell someone took pictures of that awful night, and why they’re in a file in your office among all the incriminating evidence against Gregory Meyer!”

Luke sits down at the table and puts his head in his hands.

“Is this really how we’re going to start communicating? After everything we’ve been through?” Luke says quietly from behind his hands.

“No,” I answer after a long beat. “I’m sorry. I was taken off guard by the photos, and seeing them…they captured every moment leading up to and after…I just relived the whole terrifying night.”

“I can’t tell you, Layla. You don’t want to know.” Luke’s tone is calm, but he’s got fear in his eyes. It’s the same fear I saw the day Will’s father exposed my parents as ecoterrorists and outted Luke as having not come to my father’s legal aid.

“How do you know that?”

“Not telling you protects you from more pain. As your
father
, I just can’t do that to you. I
won’t
do that to you. So…you can be angry with me if you need to be, but I would rather you be angry with me for the rest of your life than tell you something that would break your heart.”