Chapter 16
THE FOLLOWING DAY, WHEN SHE finds herself silently climbing the stairs to Dr. Price’s front door alongside John, Wren notices the plate full of untouched ground beef. For a second, her stomach sinks at the sight. She hopes the stray didn’t meet a predatory foe.
“Welcome back.” Dr. Price’s voice cuts through her thoughts, thrusting her back into the present, into the unknown.
“Dr. Price.” Leroux grins. It’s a nervous smile that gives away his anticipation.
“Thank you for continuing to talk to us,” Wren says, unsure if that’s the right thing to say.
What do you say to someone who is compromising their career, their ethics, and their safety to help you prove a theory?
Do you thank them for that specifically?
she thinks to herself, wondering if her greeting covered all the hope and appreciation she currently feels.
She decides it is enough. Dr. Price has chosen to take this metaphorical walk with them, and she shouldn’t question it.
After all, they are running out of time to gather solid proof of Philip’s involvement not only in Richard’s murder but in Melissa’s—not to mention any others in Massachusetts or Louisiana that they’re just scratching the surfaces of.
There simply isn’t time for nuance or to question motives if someone is willing to help.
Dr. Price leads Leroux and Wren back to his office.
Everything is the same. The house is beautifully decorated, bright and colorful with warmth and character, but somehow that feels insignificant now with the allure of new information hanging in the air.
They sit across from him, taking a second to glance at each other.
Suddenly the weight of the moment sits on Wren’s chest. The possibility that someone just as sick as Jeremy is free, his whereabouts unknown, paralyzes her.
After Jeremy was led away in handcuffs, for the first time in a long time, she felt a little safe.
Yes, she’s been grieving, but she’s been able to do so unburdened by the concern that a killer is waiting in the wings to strike.
But now she knows that security is gone.
Philip Trudeau is dangerous; it’s just a matter of quantifying it.
The room’s tin can fan pushes a wall of air into her face, and she blinks, thrusting herself back into the present, back into this strange dance.
Dr. Price shifts around in his seat, finally coming to rest with his left leg crossed over his right. “I feel like it’s important for me to share something with you,” he says.
Wren and Leroux glance at each other, and she instinctively knows what he’s thinking.
Leroux hates a theatrical lead-up to a story, no matter how innocent it may be.
He sees it as a tactic to make the speaker seem invaluable when, in reality, they are usually just desperate.
But Dr. Price doesn’t seem desperate. He doesn’t seem desperate at all.
He just seems to be burdened with too much knowledge, and all they can hope is that he is ready to lessen his load.
“What is it, Dr. Price?” Wren asks. She’s not sure she is prepared to hear whatever he’s about to share.
“Well, it has to do with a commonality between Philip Trudeau and Jeremy Rose,” he begins.
Wren’s breath hitches at the mention of them both.
“You’re good at building suspense. I’ll give you that, Doc,” Leroux says gruffly, leaning back in his chair.
Dr. Price laughs, taking off his glasses and producing a cloth from his pocket to clean them. He begins rubbing it across the lenses, an unfocused look in his eyes. “Have you ever looked into Jeremy Rose’s mother?” He puts the glasses back on, tenting his fingers in front of him on the desk.
Wren nods. “Yes. She and Jeremy had a complicated relationship. Her death was also pretty suspicious.”
Mona’s case was unforgettable, filled with unanswered questions and specious statements. It was clear to everyone at the time that something was off, something didn’t fit with an accidental death, but solid proof was nowhere to be found. Jeremy made sure of that.
“The word suspicious feels inadequate, doesn’t it?” Dr. Price gives her a look.
Wren’s senses heighten, honing into the slight shift in the doctor’s tone.
It’s subtle changes like this that she has learned to trust and analyze over the years.
A shift in tone, a small tremble at the corner of someone’s mouth—it’s all meaningful in some way and points to a hidden truth that needs coaxing out.
“Knowing what we know now, I would venture to call it nefarious,” Wren answers. “But what does this have to do with Philip Trudeau?”
Dr. Price sucks in a breath, seeming to prepare himself. “Mona Rose had a lot of problems. She was the subject of a lot of rumors and a lot of disdain around here,” he says carefully. “I mean, she had a child who she completely abandoned.”
Leroux makes a face. “Well, to be fair, she didn’t completely abandon that idiot. Let’s not confuse his deranged Oedipus complex with abandonment.”
Wren shoots Leroux a look, silently chastising him for his brash tone. “I think what John is trying to say so eloquently is that she may not have been mother of the year, but they were in each other’s lives until she died.”
Dr. Price shakes his head. “You’re right. She didn’t abandon Jeremy, not in the classic sense, anyway. What I mean is that she abandoned her other son.”
The words land hard. Other son? Suddenly Wren’s mind rushes back to the research she did on Mona Rose. She mentally flips through pages of medical records, autopsy reports, and interviews, but nothing ever pointed toward another son.
“Wait, Jeremy has a brother?” Leroux leans forward, suddenly interested.
Wren blinks, shaking her head. “There was no mention of a sibling in any of the reports on his family. No one else lived at that address with them.” She’s sure of this.
She has dug far enough into Jeremy’s life to know he doesn’t have a brother.
Maybe a brother would have done him some good.
Having all that time to focus on his own perceived oppression certainly didn’t benefit someone like him.
“Well, no, you wouldn’t have found a brother living at that address. This sibling is a half brother born a little over a year before she had Jeremy,” Dr. Price says calmly.
“A half brother? Ah, I see those rumors of Mona’s ill repute were not too far off, considering she was married to Jeremy’s pops at that time.” Leroux almost laughs.
“But how did we not uncover this before? We’ve been looking into Jeremy for years.
Someone would’ve come across this information.
” Wren’s stomach knots as she wonders what else could be lurking in the dark corners of Jeremy’s history.
Before she can step further into her frantic thoughts, her silent question is answered.
Dr. Price nods. “You’re absolutely right, but the boy’s father happened to be a federal judge.” He waits, watching their responses.
Alarm bells begin to sound in Wren’s mind, and she can see the same thing happening on Leroux’s face. Neither of them speaks. Only one federal judge comes to mind, and the odds that this is a coincidence are almost infinitesimal.
Wren’s pulse quickens, and for one disorienting second, she feels like the room is about to implode, crushing them into particles before she can even consider what this all could mean. She wishes for it, wills it to happen, to make this moment pause.
“You’re saying …” Leroux begins, letting his sentence trail off. He gestures in front of him, encouraging Dr. Price to continue.
Dr. Price takes the cue and drops the bomb he’s been holding with precision. “Jeremy’s half brother is Philip Trudeau.”
Electricity, sharp and painful, jolts its way through Wren’s chest. Everything they know about Philip and Jeremy’s relationship was really built on sand when she thought it was all stone.
“You’ve got to be making this shit up. You have to be.” Leroux, gobsmacked, stands up, pacing around like he is trying to put together a one-thousand-piece puzzle in his mind.
Wren watches him, allowing her own brain to begin parceling out the information. “That’s why you didn’t find it in any documentation,” she says quietly, mostly to herself.
“His father made sure of it,” Dr. Price says, pursing his lips. “There was no way he was going to allow his reputation to be tainted by the town tart, Mona Rose.” His voice drips with judgment—not for Mona but for the man who went to such great lengths to erase her from his legacy.
“Do Jeremy or Philip know this?” Wren asks, still not sure what these new details mean.
Dr. Price shakes his head. “Neither of them know, as far as I was informed.” He looks away briefly, as if searching his memories.
“Mona Rose and Sebastian Trudeau had an agreement. She didn’t want a child to take care of, and he didn’t want a scandal tied to his name.
Trudeau and his wife told people they used a surrogate.
How he got his wife to stick around, I’ll never know. ”
“I’m sorry. I’m still dumbfounded over here, and you two are considering the nuances of this whole thing already?” Leroux laughs, running his hand over his face. “I mean, they just bartered a kid in exchange for silence?”
“Precisely,” Dr. Price answers. “You should know by now, Detective, that people will pay a high price to hold on to the things they value most. Sebastian Trudeau values his good name and his reputation as a family man.”
“What did Mona Rose value?” Wren asks softly.
Dr. Price looks from Leroux to Wren, softening his expression to match hers.
“She valued her needs above all,” he says bluntly.
“Whether there really is an argument to be made for nature versus nurture, who’s to say?
At the very least, she wasn’t a positive force in Jeremy’s life.
” He pauses, as if considering everything for the first time.
“She didn’t value motherhood. She valued her own desires, and she put them above everything else. ”