CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AURORA
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“I wish you’d told me sooner, but I understand why you didn’t.” Chloe tucks her legs under her on my sofa while she sips her coffee.
I glance out the window as rain slides down the pane. It feels like I’ve been cold since the day I walked into my mother's closet and found Parker in front of the TV.
It’s not just my body. I’m soul-deep cold.
Now I have some tough decisions to make.
While I’ve pushed Parker away, I always knew this relationship wouldn’t last. For a moment I thought I might be wrong, but now it’s clear it can never work.
Not because he used me to uncover the sordid shit that my mother was involved in. He didn’t find that hidden room by accident. He was looking for it.
Why? Because Parker was that little blue-eyed boy.
A part of me must have known the first time I looked into his eyes. The haunting familiarity that I couldn’t place was within me, hiding.
Over and over, I’ve tried to understand why he didn’t just tell me who he was. Then again, would I have believed him? Would we have found that hidden space with all the evil within it?
Unlikely.
Sometimes life works out just how it's meant to. Despite how painful it is.
I was looking for answers about my mother, and Parker was looking for his answers.
I guess we both got them.
Not that I know who Marianne Baker truly was, I can tell you this, she was not a woman I am proud to call Mom and not a good person.
I feel betrayed and sick.
I’ve lost a lot of weight and can barely eat.
Part of it is Mom, part of it is missing Parker.
I crave to be held in his arms; to feel the security that only he’s been able to give me. Despite his domineering behavior and deep growls.
He’s my big scary bear.
And it turns out I was falling in love with him.
I sigh loudly.
Going to work has been so difficult, just counting the minutes and hours, wanting more answers that only a dead woman can give me.
I’ve screamed at her in the dead of night, torn through her room and ripped everything apart looking for... anything.
As if what Parker found wasn’t enough.
“Did you watch one?”
“No. Well, yes. I turned one on, watched about sixty seconds, then ran into the bathroom and threw up.”
“You look too skinny.” Chloe frowns. “Why don’t you come and stay with me?”
I shake my head.
“Thanks, but I will be okay.”
Will I? My boss has complained about my performance, I might lose my job, I don’t have the energy to look for another job or barely feed myself.
Which is why I had to open up to my best friend.
“The offer is there, honey bunny.”
“None of it makes sense.” I drop my feet off the coffee table, lean forward and drop my forehead into my hands. “God, Chloe, she was so evil.”
She’s quiet for a moment and I glance up.
“Are you sure she...they...anyone didn’t touch you?”
I drop my eyes and stare at the rug under my feet for a long moment. I’ve wondered the same thing.
“I don’t think so. Which is almost worse. Not knowing. I was so sheltered and hidden from the world, almost.”
I’ve never looked at it that way, but now, the more I know, the homeschooling didn’t seem like a lifestyle choice. It was as if Mom was doing it for a reason.
But I don’t recall ever feeling scared of the men who visited. Or the women. I was excluded.
Why?
“Yeah, you were so shy when you arrived at college,” Chloe says. “What a sick bitch. Sorry.”
I snort sardonically. “Don’t be. She was.”
Glancing around at the penthouse, I shake my head. “I can’t keep this place. I’m going to sell it once probate is over.”
“You should probably call the cops.” Chloe blows on her coffee and takes another sip.
I thought about that. First, I want to speak to Mr. Lynch and get his advice. To make sure I’m protected. This is serious. She was...a criminal.
The buzzer sounds and I stiffen.
“Expecting someone?” Chloe asks, dropping her mug on the table and standing.
“No.”
“Want me to stay? I have to take my mom to her doctor’s appointment, but I can see if Jenny can do it.” She offers, referring to her sister.
“No, you go. Thanks for listening,” I say, wondering if it might be Parker. I’m both nervous and hoping it might be.
Chloe hugs me, grabs her bag and jacket, then waves as the elevator door closes.
Buzz.
I push the speaker button, now that I’ve worked out how the system works. “Hello?”
“Aurora, this is Diane, your mother’s friend. We met at the funeral. We need to talk.”
An icy chill runs through me. “I’m no—”
“You need to hear what I have to say,” Diane says.
I think I know what she’s about to tell me. Because I’m curious if she or any of her friends knew, or were involved, I let her up.
The elevators ping open and Diane steps out. She’s dressed elegantly in a cream skirt and matching jacket, with a rose blouse underneath. In her hand, she carries an umbrella and drops it into the holder on the floor.
“Nice to see you again, Aurora.”
“Come in. Would you like a tea or coffee?” I offer.
“A water would be fine.” She follows me into the kitchen where I pour us both a glass of water, then lead her over to the large glass dining room table.
“Please.” I indicate she should sit.
Diane looks nervous and I am too, but I need to know as much as I can, so I want her to get straight to the point. How much worse can it get?
I hope those aren’t famous last words.
“I think I know why you’re here,” I say, sipping my water.
Her eyes widen. “You do?”
I shrug. “We will find out, I guess.”
Diane plays with her glass for a moment, spinning it on the linen coaster. The rain continues to pour behind her as she draws in a deep breath.
“Your mother...” She takes another sip. “She had secrets.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“Yes.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “So, you know?”
I’m not letting her off lightly. If this woman knows something or has been involved, then she can tell me everything. I’m going to force her to say the words and admit what she and my mother have done.
I slip my hand into my pocket, pull out my phone under the table, and start recording our conversation. I need to protect myself and I don’t trust any of these assholes.
“Please, Diane, you came here to tell me something, so I’d appreciate it if you did.” I know I look tired, and she probably thinks it's grief although weeks have now passed since Mom died.
She can think what she wants.
Diane glances around the room as if seeing it for the first time. She knew where we lived, so I have to believe she has visited before.
“Mary-Anne had a lot of regrets, but I think she was a sick woman.”
“You were friends.”
“Yes. People are complicated. I enjoyed her company, and she trusted me. That’s why she shared her darkest secret with me, I suppose. That, and she wanted someone to tell you the truth when she died.”
I blink a few times, my emotions going haywire.
“She died weeks ago,” I reply angrily.
“I wanted you to have time to grieve,” Diane replies, as if that is a good enough explanation.
“I’m getting sick of people making decisions for me and not telling me the truth about my life.” My words speed up, sounding angrier.
Diane holds up a hand.
I count to ten. This woman doesn’t deserve the anger which is directed at my mother...or Parker, but I’m about out of patience..
“Tell me or leave.” I demand.
“Mary-Anne was not your mother.”
What?
Diane keeps talking, but I don’t hear any more. The floor completely disappears from under me and I slip into a state of shock.
Who the fucking hell am I?