No One Knows Part 25

She did. God, she did.

She was fighting hard against the fear, the worry, the pain. The overwhelming desire to grab her kitchen knife and slice her foster brother's throat. But she didn't. It took all her effort, but she found the calm inside. At least she knew now how this had happened. Knowing made it easier.

And with everything that was going on, Tyler and his very loaded weapon couldn't hurt. Tyler had been her bodyguard before. It was his turn to watch her back again.

"Clean up after yourself, and let Winston out, would you?"

"When will you be back?"

"Soon."

He scrutinized her, his dark blue eyes running over her face, making her flush.

"Are you really okay, Aubrey? I know you're upset. You have every right to kick me out."

She patted him on the shoulder. "I'll be fine. If you find anything else out about Allen, let me know immediately. I'll be back in a bit."

He hesitated, then gave her a hauntingly familiar half smile. "Bring some food, yeah? You eat like a single white girl."

"Shocking, Tyler. I am a single white girl."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Just bring home some meat or something. Lean Cuisines and cereal can't sustain a growing boy."

She pulled a twenty out of her wallet and handed it to him. "Order pizza or a sandwich."

Tyler eyed the money, and she immediately saw what he was weighing. "Thanks," he mumbled. She was interested in this new reluctance to take money from her; the humility of it was rather fascinating. Twice now he'd made conscious decisions about whether to put the money into his arm. Maybe he was changing. Or maybe he was acting out of guilt and regret. Well, he should.

Stop, Aubrey. Stop.

"Today?"

Meghan stood in the doorway, hand on a cocked hip.

"Sorry, Meghan. I'm coming."

Meghan and Tyler stared at each other. Aubrey felt the intensity of their glares; the room practically crackled with animosity. She debated saying something, trying to smooth things over between them, shrugged and patted Winston's head one last time.

"Come on," she said to Meghan, took her by the arm and dragged her back to the car. There was no reason to share what she now knew about Tyler's role in Josh's disappearance. It wouldn't change anything. It would hurt; Meghan wouldn't be able to see past the new information, and would want to blame Tyler for everything.

Once they'd gotten in, Aubrey asked, "Why do you hate him so much?"

"It's not hate. It's disappointment."

"What do you mean?"

Meghan shot her a glance. "He should have straightened himself out and helped you heal after Josh died. That's all."

"Oh. I never expected that from him, Meghan."

"You should have. He was the closest thing to family you had."

"I'm glad I have you. You're my family," Aubrey said, giving Meghan a squeeze on the arm. "And you are definitely a better cook than Tyler. I would have starved."

The sun returned to Meghan's smile and the flame to her eyes. "So, we're off to dear old Mummy's house. I bet you there are wire hangers all over the place."

And Aubrey thought, You have no idea.

CHAPTER 44.

Aubrey had always felt nervous in Daisy's home. Even with Tom's sanction, it seemed wrong to be snooping in the woman's things. But this was important, and Aubrey reminded herself that it might all be a moot point anyway, especially if Daisy didn't make it.

She was almost glad for the distraction. After Tyler's revelation, she'd taken to checking her email every five minutes-she'd actually set up the mail account on her phone. She hadn't been using that function; she never used her phone to access the Internet anymore. It was something she'd tried to instill in her kids at school, too: if you need information from the Internet, do so at a computer, not your phone. She hated watching people walk around with their eyes glued to their palms, bumping into people because they were so absorbed in their own little worlds that they couldn't interact with reality anymore.

She had morphed into the worst kind of hypocrite. Like an ex-smoker who eschewed any contact with their old lifestyle. She used to use her phone all the time. Maybe she had texting PTSD. And really, who could blame her?

She checked it again, saw nothing new. No surprise there. In the After, Aubrey didn't have a lot of contact with people. Very few emails, and those only from good friends and spammers. She'd closed her Facebook account, and had never been on friendly terms with Twitter. She had her habit: she checked her email once a day, usually preceding writing a note to Josh. She told herself she was fighting the rising tide of technology, but the truth was, she never felt safe online. She felt so . . . exposed.

"You expecting a call?" Meghan asked.

Aubrey lied smoothly. "Just hoping for an update from Tom."

Meghan had already broken into Daisy's desk-she wasn't going to waste any time. She turned around and eyed Aubrey. "What's the sudden interest in this woman, Aubrey? She's been nothing but a bitch to you for years. My God, she testified against you, did her level best to get you sent to jail for life. And here you are, acting like you actually care."

Meghan was right. In all honesty, Aubrey didn't know what had come over her since Daisy's accident. Manning the late-night shift, trying to communicate, to help. Yes, Daisy hated her, but Aubrey liked to think she was the bigger person. She just hadn't ever had an opportunity to show it. Or maybe it was Chase. Maybe opening her heart to someone had allowed her to forgive. Or, maybe, to find the final thing to sever all ties for good.

Die, bitch, just die.

Maybe not.

She arranged her face carefully. "Josh would want me to take care of his mother, Meghan. We're here to dig into her life, not psychoanalyze my motivations. Did you find anything?"

Meghan stood up, her brow furrowed. "No. Nothing of use. Everything here is current, just tax stuff and phone bills and bank statements. Filing cabinet?"

Aubrey glanced around. "In the closet."

The filing cabinet was locked. Meghan went back to the desk and started rifling through again, came up with the key. "Ta-da," she cried, holding it aloft. She unlocked the cabinet and started sifting through the files.

Aubrey had never spent any time in Daisy's office. She wasn't exactly sure why Daisy had an office in the first place. Daisy didn't do anything. She didn't work. She didn't have friends. Oh, she had the people she called friends, acquaintances from the club, people she tried to one-up. But actual girlfriends, people she confided in? Aubrey couldn't remember Josh ever saying anything that would lead her to believe that Daisy was anything but a bitter, shriveled-up woman, old before her time.

Her office reflected that life of isolation. No pictures, no homey touches. It was frank and utilitarian and clean. Too clean. It was the office of a woman desperate for control.

"Bingo," Meghan said. Aubrey heard clinking, looked over to see Meghan pulling out two bottles of vodka, one fresh, one half empty.

"Is Daisy a drinker?"

"I guess. I really haven't spent a lot of time with her since Josh . . ." Say it, Aubrey. Say it. You don't want to mess up now. ". . . died."

"Hmm. Check this out," Meghan said.

She handed Aubrey a file folder that had aging yellow cuttings from The Tennessean. Front and center was a photo of a young woman, no older than Aubrey was now, with a wide smile, frank eyes, and a microphone in her hands. The piece was called "New Voices," and the name under the photograph read Daisy Dee.

Aubrey read it quickly, shocked to find out her mother-in-law had been a lounge singer. A pretty good one, from the sound of it. She'd been honored along with a few other session musicians and singers as the best the city had to offer in the way of country music.

Good grief. She checked the date on the article heading. This was from before Josh's birth.

Daisy, a country singer.

Would wonders never cease?

The article mentioned that Daisy had gotten her start in the Nashville music scene after being widowed.

Aubrey showed Meghan the paper. "Check this out. Daisy was a singer."

"That's not all. God, there are medals in here. Bronze Star. Purple Heart. Tom wasn't in the military, was he?"

"Those must belong to her husband who died. Tom said he was in the service. She was married to him briefly before she married Josh's real dad."

"So she's had three husbands? Wow. Daisy really got around. What's the deal with Josh's biological dad?"

Aubrey sat in the desk chair, pushed off and whirled around in a circle. "Bad news, that one. I met him once, when we were kids. He showed up and I thought he was a pedophile trying to steal us. But he'd just gotten out of jail. Josh was blown away. Daisy had told him his real dad died. He told me he had no earthly idea that his father was still alive, but I think he did know. I remember that day . . . Josh was wrecked. It really messed him up. He rebelled against Daisy completely then. Basically cut her out of his life, even though he was stuck living here. That's when he and Tom got close. And he and I got closer, too. Which made things with Daisy that much worse. I think she always blamed me for Josh finding out the truth."

Now Meghan was interested. "What was his dad in jail for?"

"He was convicted of identity theft. It wasn't as common back then as it is now. But there were all kinds of allegations against him, including an attempted murder. He was a classic crook. He got out early for good behavior before Daisy ever had a chance to tell Josh he was really alive." She went quiet for a moment. "I didn't like him. He was a handsome guy, all smiles, but something about him made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. He just seemed wrong, somehow."

"Where is he now?"

"Hardsten died a little while back. Before we got married. Got on the wrong side of a knife in a bar fight."

"Figures. Once a criminal . . ."

Always a criminal.

Like father, like son?

Another chill paraded down Aubrey's arms.

"Yeah. Anything more there?"

Meghan shook her head. "Nothing that screams 'I had a child no one knows about.' Though you have to admit, Aubrey, Daisy was certainly holding things back from people. Sounds to me like she's an expert at compartmentalization."

"So where do we look for a kid?"

"Adoption records."

The word adoption made Aubrey squirm. Somewhere deep inside, she'd always hoped someone would come forward to claim her, to give her a history, a family, a home. It never happened. As was required by the State of Tennessee, she'd gone to the monthly "adoption days" in Nashville, sat at a lunch table while eager couples walked past her without a second glance. She was cute, with her dark eyes and curly blond hair and long, coltish legs, but she had a fatal flaw: she wasn't a baby. The couples who came to these events were looking for someone little, someone still impressionable, who could be molded in their image; kids who didn't remember their real folks, who wouldn't cringe when they were asked to call their new strangers mom and dad.

Those Saturdays had been among the worst in her life. Every fourth Saturday of the month, they were prodded into the showers, dressed in the finest handoffs they had, and bused to the school, where they were lined up like show ponies. Or slaves. Eager children with one goal in life: to be loved.

She desperately wanted to be saved from the hell she was living in, and being adopted again would make everything okay.

It never happened, but soon enough, she was loved. By Josh.

Meghan caught that something was wrong. She was watching Aubrey with her little pixie head cocked to one side and her lips pursed, but let the moment go without inquiry. She smiled and patted Aubrey lightly on the shoulder.

"Come on, sugar. Let's hit the courthouse. See what we can dig up."

"Wait. I need to show you something."

Aubrey reached into her bag and pulled out a sheet of paper. She'd printed out the photo, was carrying it around like having it on her would make it disappear from the world.

She handed it to Meghan. "Someone emailed me this last night. The subject line was 'He's alive.' "

Meghan unfolded the paper. Aubrey could see the faint outline of Josh's body through the back. Even prepared for it, the pain sliced through her.

Meghan folded the paper, anger etched on her features. She was pale, and looked furious.

"Are you okay?"

Aubrey choked back a sob. "Of course I'm not okay. Someone's playing with me, trying to manipulate me. But I can't sit back and pretend nothing's happening." She grabbed the photo. "Clearly I didn't know him as well as I thought. What if he's been out there this whole time, living it up with some strange woman? I'm just his wife. Why let me know he's okay?"

"If this photo is even real. It could be something doctored up to make you doubt him."

"But who would do that? Who would want to torture me like this?"

Meghan gritted her teeth. "I don't know, but we'll find out."

PART THREE.

Years of love have been forgot in the hatred of a minute.

-EDGAR ALLAN POE.

CHAPTER 45.