My phone vibrated in my coat pocket, and I reached in to see a text from Daryl. I read it, feeling like the Universe had suddenly decided it was time to pile on. Need to meet. Got some interesting pics of loverboy you want to see.
A hollow feeling took over my insides as my mind raced with thoughts of Nina with her ex again. I didn't want to think about that now. Meet tomorrow at noon in my office.
The waitress returned with my water, placing it down and patting my shoulder as she walked away. I had to continue reading Joseph Edwards' notes, no matter how sick what he'd found out made me. After downing a big gulp of water that tasted faintly of chlorine, I flipped to the next page of his tablet.
Jessica Cashen—3:30 pm 1/6/09 832 Sturges Way Alpharetta
The rest of that page was filled with my father's and Taylor's names, along with Albert and Amanda Cashen's names linked with arrows showing how Edwards had attempted to figure out the connection between these four people. In the center of this drawing was one word followed by a question mark.
Child?
Was it a simple case of an illegitimate child that had led to the death of so many?
I read over the note about Jessica Cashen again and guessed Edwards had arranged to meet with her. Those were the details that would tell me what I needed to know.
Two empty pages later, I found his notes from his meeting with Jessica. I read the words, but they didn't sink in. I couldn't comprehend them, my mind unwilling to accept the truth of them.
Doubts it was a coincidence
Taylor and Amanda—together for months, according to Jessica
Found out she was pregnant March 2008—told Taylor soon after
Refused to see her or answer her calls—begged to see him but nothing—devastated became depressed
I knew what was coming next. Even so, when I turned the page, the words hit me like I'd crashed into a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour.
Hanged herself May 12, 2008—3 months pregnant
-father found her in the basement
Jessica Cashen's story of how her sister died and how her father blamed Taylor for her suicide went on and on for lines down the page, but I couldn't read anymore. I pushed the tablet away in disgust, my heart sick from what I'd read.
The person described in these pages wasn't someone I knew. Taylor had always been the good son. He'd never even really dated many women, sticking with one shy, rather nondescript girl he met freshman year in college. My mother had always said he'd marry her, have children, and live happily ever after, unlike me, who had no stability in his life and refused to even consider any kind of happily ever after that didn't involve late nights and a different female for each one.
Taylor and I had never been as close as twins were supposed to be, but I thought I had known him, at least. Never in my wildest nightmares could I have imagined he was this person. Amanda Cashen had been a girl—fifteen years old. What the fuck had he been doing with her?
For the first time a horrifying thought settled into my mind. Had Taylor raped her? Jesus Christ! Even if she had agreed to sleeping with him, she was just a child, a minor he had no business touching.
I had to get out of there. The dingy yellow diner walls felt like they were closing in on me, suffocating me. Scooping up the notebook and newspaper article, I threw a twenty on the table and got the hell out. By the time I reached my car, it was all I could do to toss it all onto the front passenger seat before I bent over behind the rear bumper and puked up coffee, water, and whatever the fuck I'd had for lunch. I stood there hunched over in the cold night air until there was nothing left in my stomach and all I had left was dry heaves that made my ribs ache in pain.
Finally, I stood up and wiped my mouth, thankful for the bracing December air against my face. Swallowing hard, I tried to push every terrible word I'd read from my thoughts, but I couldn't. All I saw over and over was the image of my brother on top of some helpless girl and my father standing behind them coldly ordering the death of Albert Cashen.
I floored it, hitting over a hundred and twenty at times as I raced home. I wanted to be as far away from that storage unit and that diner, but it was no use. Everything I'd found out stayed with me, and I feared it would never leave me.
As I drove up to the house I shared with Nina, the realization of what I'd learned hit me. How could I face her after everything I now knew about why her father had died? It was worse than I'd ever imagined. Joseph Edwards hadn't just uncovered some shady land deal or my father's philandering ways. He'd pulled back the protective cover shielding my father and my brother and their unspeakable actions. Nina's father had been murdered to protect Taylor's despicable acts with a teenage girl and my father's callous desire to have the world bend to his orders, no matter how terrible or depraved they were.
I shut off the car and sat back in the seat, drained from my trip. I'd flown halfway around the world at times and not felt this exhausted. I didn't know how I'd face Nina now. She had no idea of the kind of people I came from. How would she ever forgive me for what my family had done to hers?
I sat there staring into the darkness until I knew I couldn't avoid facing her any longer. As I walked through the door, Rogers met me, almost as if he'd been waiting for me. His expression was stony, instantly making my blood run cold. Had something happened and Nina was already gone?
"Tristan, Jensen needs to speak to you. He's waiting in my part of the house."
"What's this about? I'm tired, Rogers. I'll deal with him tomorrow," I said as I brushed past him to see if Nina was still there.
"She's in her room, Tristan. That's what Jensen needs to talk to you about. He's worried you're going to fire him this time."
I spun around to face Rogers, my heart racing wildly in fear. "Did something happen? Is she hurt?"
He slowly shook his head. "No. She's fine. I think it would be better to hear what Jensen has to say before you speak to her."
"Rogers, what the fuck is wrong? If Nina isn't hurt, then what could Jensen be worried about?"
I turned to leave and he caught my arm. Surprised, I turned my head and looked at him and saw a look of concern I hadn't seen on his face since those days when he was rescuing me from my self-destructive behavior.
"You need to speak to him. Take a few minutes before you go to her to hear what Jensen has to tell you."
Something in his voice convinced me and I followed him to his part of the house. I found Jensen a worried wreck pacing the floor of Roger's personal study.
His usually calm expression twisted into one full of fear. "You told me to make sure she was safe, and I know the bodyguards are always there, but I thought I should step in. I meant no harm, Mr. Stone."