Chapter 9
NADIA
TEN YEARS AGO
“Have you seen Aimee?” Hugh Tierney asked after a light tap on Nadia’s shoulder. Aimee’s father had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. The jacket was tossed over his freckled arm.
“No, I haven’t.” They were congregating in the church courtyard after James’s funeral.
Aimee had slipped out before the service ended, remarking that she couldn’t watch the pallbearers carry James’s casket from the church to the waiting hearse.
Nadia had barely been able to sit through the service herself.
Twice she almost grabbed Aimee and confessed.
First was when Thomas, Phil, a cousin of theirs and a few of James’s friends, eight men in all, carried the casket into the church.
She sat in the pew behind Aimee and was tempted to lean over to whisper in her ear.
“James is alive.” Consider the pandemonium that would have caused.
But Thomas snagged her gaze as he processed by and she was reminded of why she’d agreed to guard his secret.
All their lives would be at risk should the Hidalgos discover they actually hadn’t murdered James.
The next time had been during the eulogy Thomas gave.
He was heartfelt and emotional, sharing stories about James she’d long forgotten.
He’d made her cry. Heck, he made everyone cry, especially Aimee.
Nadia had come very close to screaming at him to end the charade.
Aimee’s grief was shredding her up inside.
As if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, Thomas met her teary-eyed stare and she felt his warning as an electrical current of dread.
One word from her to anyone about James and she very well could put him, and by extension them, in the ground.
“Would you mind looking for her, Nadia?” Catherine Tierney asked.
Aimee’s mom barely reached Hugh’s shoulder with her spiky salt and pepper hair.
“We’re worried. She’s been so withdrawn.
She almost didn’t come, but we knew she’d regret it later.
I feel like we might have pushed her too far—” Her face crumpled and Nadia pulled her into a hug.
She loved Aimee’s parents as if they were her own.
They treated her like a daughter, and they thought of James as a son.
Both of them had spent a lot of time at the Tierneys’ house.
Losing James had been a tragedy for the entire family.
Nadia felt wretched. She could end their suffering in a snap.
Before she did just that, she locked away her thoughts and let go of Catherine. She made sure her face was a carefully constructed facade, her expression still as a pond.
Then she smiled softly at Aimee’s parents. “I’ll find her. Meet you at the cemetery?”
“We’ll see you there.” Hugh hugged her. “Thanks for all you’ve done for her. These past couple of months have been hard on us all. We’re grateful she has you and Kristen helping her get through this.”
The need to confess was a boot pressing on her throat. She nodded tightly and left the Tierneys. She grabbed Kristen by the elbow, pulling her away from Nick. “Any idea where Aimee went?” she asked her.
“Nick mentioned something about seeing her talking to some woman out in the parking lot.”
They headed that way, leaving the courtyard the same time Thomas returned with the other pallbearers. Kristen walked straight into his arms, but his gaze found Nadia’s. She snarled at him.
“I’m so sorry about James,” Kristen said, oblivious of Nadia. “Your speech. It was beautiful. You made it feel like he was right there in the church with us. Thank you for that. God, I miss him.” Kristen sniffled and Thomas wiped a tear from her cheek.
“We all do.”
Nadia ground her teeth and glanced away. She couldn’t look at him without feeling disgusted with herself. Because damn. She cared about him despite everything.
“Have you seen Aimee?” Kristen asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“We’ll find her.” Nadia didn’t need or want Thomas’s help.
“Will you be at the cemetery?”
There was an ominous rumble in his tone.
She doubted Kristen picked up on it, but Nadia got the message.
He wanted Aimee at the burial to witness James’s casket going into the ground.
On that, she and Thomas agreed. Aimee needed closure to move on, and Nadia and Thomas would both do what they could to encourage that.
“Of course we’ll be there,” Kristen said.
“Let’s go get her,” Nadia said. Thomas held her stare as they left and her blood ran hot in all the wrong ways. God! She really wanted to punch him.
They found Aimee crying in the parking lot, alone after being harassed by a woman claiming to be a psychic.
Immediately, Nadia wondered if the woman had anything to do with James.
She worried she could be with the cartel Thomas had told her about.
But the local media published James’s obituary.
The Donato family was wealthy and well respected within the community.
The funeral was sure to draw people looking for opportunities to prey on the vulnerable, which Aimee was.
Nadia took the woman’s business card from Aimee.
Aimee didn’t need further troubles. She was already having a difficult time accepting there wouldn’t be a life with James.
The sight of Aimee this raw cut deeper than Nadia cared to admit.
Nick drove them to the cemetery. The priest spoke and prayed.
The casket was lowered into the ground. Then each member of the Donato family, cousins, uncles and aunts, relatives that would have been guests at James and Aimee’s wedding, dropped a rose onto the polished, elegant wood box with its own secret sealed inside.
Nadia wore the mask of a grieving friend who’d known James since childhood.
She played the part of the supportive friend, offering comfort and condolences.
Underneath, her blood boiled while the secret she held prisoner inside raged against the stone walls she’d erected to keep it confined.
“Meet you at the car,” she said to Nick and Kristen when the burial service concluded.
They stayed behind with Aimee while she spoke with some of James’s friends from college who wanted to offer her their condolences.
Nadia couldn’t take it anymore. She wore a dress and heels, not ideal walking attire.
But needing the escape, she left for a short trek while she waited for her friends to finish up.
She made it to the far side of the lawn near where they’d parked before she heard someone catching up to her.
“Nadia, wait up.”
She turned to Thomas. “What do you want?”
He fell into step beside her. “How’s she doing?”
“Aimee? How do you think she’s doing? She’s fucking mourning.”
His lips thinned.
She stopped walking. “Sorry.” She apologized for snapping then was mad at herself for apologizing.
Thomas should be apologizing to her. He should be asking about her.
Did he know how difficult it had been just getting through the day, lying and deceiving her best friend?
He, at least, had time to practice playing the role of the deceiver, a far cry from the boy she once knew.
She only learned the truth last night. But Nadia had agreed to help by coaxing Aimee to move on.
Thomas needed Aimee to believe James was dead and not chasing white rabbits down holes.
She remembered the business card in her purse.
“It’s probably nothing, but Aimee was approached by a woman after the funeral.”
“Who?”
“Lacy Saunders. She claims to be a psychic.” She showed him the card.
“Can I keep this?”
“No, you may not.” She snatched the card from his fingers and put it in her purse.
He glared at her and she said, “Think about it, Tom. She finds this on you, she’ll know I gave it to you.
I’m not risking Aimee’s friendship over a stupid card.
I’m already risking enough as it is. She can never know about this.
” She waved her hand between them in reference to their collusion.
“Agreed,” he said, glancing at the ground as if realizing the mistake he’d almost made.
Then he threw his arms around her. She wouldn’t call it a hug, more like a tight embrace that trapped her arms. His hand cupped the back of her head, forcing her face into the crook of his neck.
“You guys coming?” she heard Nick ask. She could only assume Kristen and Aimee were with him. Thomas had turned so her back was to them.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Are you all right, Nadia?” Kristen asked.
“She’s fine. Give us a moment, guys.”
A heavy emotion permeated his words and Nadia realized he was making it seem as if she was comforting him, not the other way around.
They hadn’t been talking loudly, and she didn’t think their friends had overheard them.
But better to play this off as something other than two people conspiring to ensure James stayed dead.
Lifting her arms, she embraced Thomas. She could almost feel the belt lashes under his jacket that his father used to administer as punishment, like phantom welts.
Of all her memories of Thomas, her mind easily took her back to that one because she was under so much stress.