Secrets We Keep GO PL Read online

  "You should have changed your first name, too."

  "That would have been smart, but I couldn't. My mom named me Cassidy, because it was her mother's maiden name, the single mom who had raised her, the only grandmother I ever knew. I couldn't break the tie. I never thought anyone would come looking for me after I aged out of the system."

  Silence fell between them for a long minute. There were so many unspoken words between them. They were dancing around the heartbreak, the personal anger, but she could see the simmering feelings in Hunter's eyes. He'd never been one to hold back when he had something to say. She supposed she should have appreciated his restraint so far. But that was coming to an end.

  "Why, Cassidy?"

  It was a simple question, but the answer was oh, so complicated. She looked away from his piercing blue-eyed gaze that had always made her worry that he would see more than she wanted him to see.

  "Cassidy. Look at me."

  She reluctantly turned back to him.

  "Don't you think I deserve an answer?" he asked. "Why did you leave me?"

  "I told you in the text. Tommy and I needed to get away from the Faulkners. We couldn't stay in San Francisco."

  "But he changed his mind. Why didn't you change yours?"

  "I couldn't. It was easier to leave."

  "Easier?" Anger sharpened his tone. "You dumped me on the night of the prom. You let me think you and Tommy were together. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

  The glittering pain in his eyes made her realize that while she might have thought he'd long forgotten that day, he hadn't. That surprised her a little.

  "You owe me an explanation," he continued.

  "An explanation or an apology?"

  "Maybe both."

  "I am sorry. I would have much rather gone to the prom than gotten on that dirty bus by myself. But I had made my choice, and there was no turning back. When I said it was easier to go, I wasn't talking about you. That part was always hard. I was referring to my situation with the Faulkners. There was a lot you didn't know."

  "Like what?"

  "I don't want to do this," she said with a sigh. "It's too much to get into now."

  "Well, I didn't want to find Tommy's bones in that wall, but it happened, and here we are. This is just the beginning, Cassidy. The police are going to come with even more questions. They're going to ask you about the last time you saw Tommy, why you ran away, why you didn't return to the house when Tommy didn't show up at the bus station. They're going to question if any of your story is true. They'll wonder if you were involved in whatever happened to Tommy and that's why you ran away. They might even think you killed him."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "I already heard some of their questions. Believe me, it's not ridiculous."

  He was right. She was going to end up in the middle of this, especially if the Faulkners started talking and decided she would make a good scapegoat. "Have the Faulkners been arrested?"

  "Mr. Faulkner died several months ago. Apparently, his wife got hysterical when she heard about the body and had to be hospitalized. The police haven't been able to question her yet."

  "He's dead? Donald is dead?" She felt an immeasurable relief at the idea that Donald was deceased, that he wasn't going to show up next, that she wouldn't have to talk to him ever again.

  "Yes, he's dead."

  She drew in a breath and let it out. "Well, good."

  "Good? What did the Faulkners do to you, Cassidy? Did they abuse you? Hurt you? Is that why you ran away? Is that what you didn't tell me?"

  "It doesn't matter anymore."

  "It might not have mattered before yesterday, but it does now. Someone killed Tommy, and you're going to be at the top of the list of suspects, along with every kid who lived in that house."

  "You think a kid living in their house could have buried a body in the wall of the garage without the Faulkners knowing about it?" she asked in amazement. "That garage was Donald's private place, his workshop, where no one was allowed to go. It was off-limits. If there was a body in there, trust me, Donald knew about it."

  "Maybe Geralyn didn't."

  "They were a team. She knew whatever he knew." She twisted her fingers together, feeling sad and angry, guilty and confused. If she'd gone back to the house, if she'd tried to find Tommy, maybe he'd still be alive.

  "What was happening in that house, Cassidy?"

  Hunter's questions were relentless. "I really don't want to talk about it."

  "You have to."

  "It hurts. Deep in my heart." She looked into his eyes, putting a hand against her chest. "The pain," she whispered. "It's so awful. It rips me apart. I know you didn't like Tommy, but he was a sixteen-year-old boy who hadn't been loved by anyone in a very long time, who had been through hell. To know that his life ended in that house, before he had a chance to ever have a life…it's almost unbearable."

  His gaze softened with compassion. "I'm sorry. You're right. Tommy didn't deserve to die, to end up where he did." A pause followed his words. "But you can do more than just feel bad; you can help the police find out what happened to him. If you don't want to tell me, fine. But you need to tell someone."

  "I ran away because I was afraid I wouldn't survive living in that house. I know I didn't tell you anything, that you couldn't possibly understand what I was going through. How could you? I kept that part of my life away from you. But knowing now where Tommy ended up, can you understand that the situation was much more complicated than you knew?"

  "I'm beginning to realize that," he admitted. "But you should have trusted me, Cassidy. We were close. I thought we were telling each other everything, or, at least, I was telling you everything."

  "You wouldn't have liked me if you'd known everything," she said softly, giving him a helpless shrug.

  "Well, we'll never know, will we? You didn't give me a chance to help you. You should have. We could have spoken to my parents, to the police. We could have shut down the Faulkners, stopped them from doing whatever they were doing."

  "That wouldn't have happened."

  "You don't know."

  "I do know. I tried, Hunter. I tried to tell the truth, to speak to someone in power. It didn't work. The Faulkners made it look like I was crazy."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about Molly."

  "Molly?" he asked in confusion. "Who the hell is Molly?"

  "She was a girl I shared a room with at the Faulkners'. She was fourteen years old. She had black hair, dark-brown eyes, the kindest smile, and for three weeks, she was my friend. But two nights in a row, I woke up and noticed her gone. The third night, she never came back. I asked Geralyn where Molly was, and she told me that Molly had been transferred to a new home, but she wouldn't say why. They cleaned Molly's things out of the room while I was at school the next day. I had a really bad feeling about it, so I went to the social worker who'd placed me at the Faulkners, and I told her what happened. She said she would check into it. I trusted her to do that."

  "What did she find?"

  "Nothing. She called me in to her office the next day. She told me that there had never been a girl named Molly living at the house, and that the Faulkners had explained that I was having emotional problems and that I had an imaginary friend named Molly." Fury ran through her at that memory. "The social worker made it clear to me that she believed them. She said she'd interviewed several other children at the house, who had no knowledge of anyone named Molly."

  "Why would they lie?"

  "Because they were scared of the Faulkners. The only one who wouldn't have lied was Tommy, but she didn't talk to him. With everyone against me—even the other kids in the house—I felt very alone. I almost started to believe that maybe I had made Molly up. But Tommy kept me sane. He knew that Molly had been there, and he thought that something terrible had happened to her."

  "And all this was going on while we were dating, while we were going to parties and making out and walking on
the beach? You never thought to share any of it with me?"

  "It wasn't going on the whole time. Molly disappeared two weeks before the prom. I actually asked you if you remembered seeing her when I'd taken you into the house."

  "I don't remember that."

  "Well, you also didn't remember her."

  "I was there once, and, frankly, I was probably more interested in making out with you than looking at who else was around."

  She flushed at that memory. She and Hunter had been all over each other back then.

  "Anyway." She cleared her throat. "After my discussion with the social worker, Mrs. Faulkner told me that the family doctor was going to prescribe some sedatives for me so that I could calm down. That terrified me. They were going to drug me."

  "They couldn't have forced that on you."

  "Who was going to stop them? The social worker who thought I was crazy? Then things got worse. Donald Faulkner asked me to go to lunch with him on Saturday, the day of the prom. He said he wanted me to feel more comfortable living in the house and that we should have a private conversation. I freaked out. I was convinced that Mr. Faulkner had done something to Molly. I told Tommy, and he said we needed to run. We couldn't wait. We had to go immediately."

  She drew in a hard breath and let it out, then continued. "When Tommy didn't show up, I almost went back to the house, but he'd told me to keep going, to be safe, and the bus was right there. It was either get on it or lose my chance to get away, so I got on board. I figured one day Tommy and I would catch up with each other. Now, I know why that didn't happen. They must have killed him before he could leave the house. He probably suspected he wasn't going to get away and that's why he told me to go without him." She put a hand to her mouth, feeling a rush of nausea. "If I had gone back, maybe I could have stopped that from happening."

  "Or you could have died, too. You should have told me what was happening, Cassidy. You didn't even have to tell me the whole story. You could have just said you were in trouble. You were scared. I would have helped you. My parents would have helped you."

  There was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. He honestly believed that's what would have happened, but she wasn't so sure.

  "I know you would have tried. But the social worker and the Faulkners—they would have convinced your parents that I was making it all up. The Faulkners were well respected in the city. Geralyn volunteered at the high school. Donald was on the city council, remember? It would have been my word against theirs. And I'd already tried to get help."

  He frowned. "I would have believed you. If you'd asked me to hide you away, I would have done that. If you'd asked me not to tell my parents, I would have gone along. I was crazy about you, Cassidy. You knew that. We were connected."

  The pain in his eyes, in his voice, touched her soul, broke another piece of her heart. In the intervening years, she'd told herself that Hunter probably hadn't missed her all that much, that he'd gone on to other girls, that he'd probably forgotten about her in a minute, but she could see that wasn't true. "I'm really sorry, Hunter. I wanted to tell you. But I was scared. I wasn't thinking straight. Things were happening fast."

  "You trusted Tommy over me. You told him everything."

  "I didn't have to tell him. He was living my life with me. And when I was with you, I didn't want to talk about the bad stuff. You were my escape. When we were together, I felt almost normal. I thought I could make it a few more years until I could be free of foster care. But after Molly disappeared, the problems with the social worker, the threat of medication, Mr. Faulkner…I panicked. Now I realize that my actions probably got Tommy killed." The horror of his death hit her again. "They made him pay for my leaving. This is my fault."

  "It's not your fault. It's theirs—the Faulkners'. And you don't know how or why Tommy was killed. You don't even know if it happened right after you left. Unless you heard from Tommy later?"

  "No. I never heard from him again, but I also threw my phone away at the bus station. I didn't want to risk anyone tracking me."

  "Where did you go?"

  "Santa Cruz. I had enough money for three nights in a cheap motel. It was the kind of place where they don't ask any questions. Luckily, I didn't stay there long. I got a job at the amusement park and eventually found a couple of girls who let me sleep on their couch."

  "And you never thought about getting back in touch with me or with Tommy?"

  "I didn't know where Tommy was, and I was afraid any contact with you would take me back into the Faulkners' world. I was also busy just trying to survive and stay away from the authorities. When I turned eighteen, it had been over a year and a half since I'd seen you or Tommy. I didn't think anyone would care to hear from me again. So that's it. Now you know."

  "I doubt I know all of it, but it's a start. You have to tell the police, Cassidy."

  "I'm not sure they'll believe me. Geralyn will tell them a different story. She'll make them think I'm a liar, just like she did before. In fact, she'll probably tell them I was mentally disturbed. She'll say that I killed Tommy and ran away. Oh, God!" She jumped to her feet as the possibilities raced through her head. "I can't do this. I can't see her. I can't hear her lie about me again." She felt an overwhelming urge to run.

  "You can face her," Hunter said forcibly, as he got to his feet. "You're an adult now. She can't hurt you anymore. And you have to do this—not just for yourself—for Tommy."

  His words were logical, reasonable, but they barely made a dent in the fear running through her. Unfortunately, she didn't think disappearing would be as easy this time around, not if the police were looking for her, too.

  "I'll help you," he added.

  "Why would you? You hate me."

  "I did hate you after you ditched me. But that was a long time ago. And I didn't know this side of the story. I'm also a part of this—not just because we were together back then, but because I found Tommy's bones."

  "It's so strange that it was you. What are the odds of that?"

  "A million to one? I have no idea. But I'm in this. We need to find out what happened to Tommy—"

  "And make them pay," she whispered.

  "And make them pay," he agreed.

  She wondered if that could really happen. She'd long ago given up on the idea of karma, of people paying for their bad deeds. But Hunter was making her believe there could be justice for Tommy and punishment for the Faulkners. "This is what you did before," she murmured.

  "What?"

  "You made me think the impossible could happen, that I could have the fairy tale."

  "Maybe you could have—if you hadn't run away," he said pointedly.

  As Hunter finished speaking, she saw George walking purposefully in their direction. He obviously didn't like the look of their conversation, and since it was on the heels of a call from the police, she couldn't blame him.

  "Don't say anything to my boss," she said quickly. "I don't want anyone here to know about this."

  Hunter didn't have time to answer before George reached them.

  "Everything all right out here, Cassidy?" he asked, his sharp gaze running across Hunter's face, before he turned to her. "You look upset."

  "I—I'm fine." She stumbled over the words in a way that would definitely not make her answer believable, but she was still having trouble pulling herself together.

  "You don't sound fine." He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he looked back at Hunter. "Who are you?"

  "Hunter Callaway." Hunter extended his hand. "An old friend of Cassidy's."

  "Friend, huh?" George muttered, not bothering to shake Hunter's hand. "Is he telling the truth, Cassidy?"

  "We knew each other in high school," she said, as Hunter dropped his hand and shoved it into his pocket. "Everything is okay. I have to run up to the city for a few hours, though."

  "Does this have something to do with that call you just missed?"

  "It does. I'll explain when I get back."

  "You want me to go with you
?"

  "No, I need you to run things here. I can do this on my own."

  "All right then, but I've got your name," George said, waving a finger at Hunter. "Don't forget that." Then he ambled back the way he'd come.

  "You have a protector," Hunter said.

  "Yes. George has been like a father to me. He's a good man. He and his wife, Mary, pretty much saved my life."

  Hunter gave her a speculative look. "I'd like to hear more of that story."

  "One story at a time. I need to talk to the police, and I'd rather not have them come here."

  "So, you'll go there. I'll take you."

  "I'll drive myself." She needed the time to get her head together. "What's the address?"

  He gave her the station address and then said, "I'll follow you."

  She didn't bother telling him he didn't need to go at all. That would be a waste of her breath. Clearly, Hunter was going to make sure she spoke to the cops. "All right then. Let's get this over with."

  As they walked across the lot, she had one more question to ask. "Has the rest of the house been searched—all the walls?"

  His jaw hardened, as his gaze met hers. "Yes. They didn't find any more bodies."

  "Thank God," she breathed. But that still made her wonder what had happened to Molly.

  Five

  Hunter stayed close to the back of Cassidy's silver Prius as she drove into San Francisco, feeling a mix of emotions that ranged from anger to sadness to complete and utter confusion. He had no idea what to make of her story—a disappearing girl, who apparently didn't exist in the foster system, potentially crazy foster parents, the teenaged boy who'd never made it out of that house alive. It sounded like a horror movie. While it made sense on some level, he couldn't imagine a social worker telling Cassidy she was crazy and that she'd made up an imaginary friend.

  On the other hand, Tommy Lucas had been killed years ago, and his body hidden away in the wall of the Faulkners' garage, making it impossible to deny that something horrific had happened in that house.

  He wondered how they'd gotten away with it. Wouldn't the smell of a decomposing body have triggered anyone to report anything? But Cassidy had said that the garage was off-limits, and if the kids in the house were too terrified to even admit one of the kids there had gone missing, would they have reported a smell coming from the garage? Probably not.