Chapter Twenty-Five
Lily
“Pass the pepper, please?”
Jackson turned to me, and I passed the pepper mill to him. He sprinkled some on the brunch he’d just made, and then he presented it to me with a flourish. “Here you go. Poached eggs on avocado toast.”
I smiled. “Thanks,” I said, taking the plate. I sat down at the table, waiting for him to do the same, and when he finally joined me with his own food, I looked at him curiously. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew about Kaye being dodgy for so long?”
He reached across and patted my hand. “I was going to wait until I’d already gathered all the evidence and confronted her before telling you. Figured you had enough stress on your mind already, with all the things you’ve been worrying about these last few weeks. Your dad, that letter from your mom, and so on.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I had no idea she was going to come here to try and directly blackmail you, though. I thought she was going to send the video to the media so that we’d end up breaking apart due to the scandal. So you can imagine my surprise when I walked in and saw her in here, threatening you.”
“But you were happy with how I responded to her, right?”
He chuckled. “Very happy. I was proud, actually. You’re not the naïve little girl so many people expect you to be when they see your sweet face and those big innocent eyes. You’re strong. You’re brave.”
“I don’t feel brave sometimes,” I said quietly, looking down at my eggs.
He ruffled my hair. “You are. You were even brave enough to accuse Kaye of being an accomplice to murder, for Christ’s sake. That takes balls.”
“Or stupidity,” I said with a wry smile. “Like, imagine if she was guilty of that. She could’ve done anything to me to keep my mouth shut.”
“No, because I’m always here to rescue you,” Jackson said, eyes crinkling around the corner. “So you’re still worried about all that, are you?”
“The Jenna case?”
He nodded. “Yep. For you to accuse Kaye of that…it’s obviously still on your mind.”
“Of course it is,” I admitted as I tucked into my food.
“It’s on mine, too,” he said. “I went to the gun store this morning. The one where Jenna bought the gun from the attic. The owner actually remembered her.”
“Oh?”
“He said she definitely seemed frightened when she bought it, but she didn’t say enough for him to have any idea of who it was she was afraid of. So we still don’t know if it was just your mother, or if it was another person.”
“Damn.” I hesitated and looked down before glancing back up. “I didn’t really think Kaye had anything to do with it, you know. I just…I don’t know, I guess my mind is going anywhere and everywhere right now, trying to figure this out, and she was right there in my face being horrible to me. So I accused her. I shouldn’t have. I probably made the situation with her even worse; made her hate me even more.”
Jackson nodded. “I didn’t think she was involved either. Sure, she wanted me, and your dad saw her have a drunken argument with Jenna, but that’s nothing. Just a silly drunk thing. And I found out today that Kaye likes shooting, but again, that proves nothing. She’s just an obsessive love-struck idiot. Not a killer, or someone who would collaborate with a killer.”
“Yeah. So that leaves us with…no theory at all. Other than the original, which is that my mom did it all of her own accord, but we’re both unsure of that now,” I said quietly.
“We’ll find something eventually, and we’ll get to the bottom of why Jenna took out the insurance policy and bought the gun,” Jackson said. His deep, comforting voice made me believe we really would. “Until then, maybe you should keep seeing your therapist. I know she’s expensive, so I’ll pay. It’ll help you move on more from everything that happened back then, and everything that’s happening now.”
“Yeah. That would be good. Thanks.”
“And speaking of moving on, I should really unpack some of the boxes in that damn attic. Completely slipped my mind that any of Jenna’s old stuff would be up there, but it’s causing problems, so I need to get rid of it.”
“I can help,” I offered. “I know you have a lot of paperwork to catch up on before tomorrow. So I could go up there and start sorting stuff into piles. Charity donation, trash, and so on.”
“You sure you’d be okay with that?” Jackson asked, his brows furrowed. “You were really freaked out in the attic yesterday. And I know how awkward and weird it must feel for you, seeing all my ex-girlfriend’s things.”
“I know you have a past, Jackson. You’re twenty years older, and I know you were out living life long before I came along. Jenna was part of that. I understand that.”
Jackson smiled. “Sometimes you’re wise beyond your years, baby girl.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and he rolled his eyes. “And sometimes you deserve nothing more than a spanking...”
***
An hour later, I was sitting up in the attic, going through the boxes on the right side which seemed to belong to Jenna. I had Jackson’s cell phone with me (my own was dead again) so I could text him downstairs on his work cell phone if I was unsure about where certain items should go. Now was such a moment. I tapped out a text. Found an old box of shoes. Was going to put in charity pile but they are very used, some are even muddy. Trash pile?
Jackson’s reply came quickly. Yes, better go with trash pile. Found much else?
No. Mostly just clothes and shoes. A few cookbooks. How is your paperwork going down there?
It’s all right. Might have to go into the city soon to drop some stuff off at the campaign office, though.
I stashed the phone back in my pocket and kept on sorting through boxes. After another ten minutes, I came across one of interest. It was filled with calendars, old party invitations, and day planners from over the years—all pre-2012, before Jenna was no longer around.
I messaged Jackson again. Found a box of old diary day planners etc. etc. Even some old party invitations up here! Do you want to keep for sentimental reasons, or would you like to look through any of them? Or should I just put in trash pile?
Jackson replied a minute later. You can just put that box in the trash pile. Jenna always kept little diaries, but it was all just a way to help her remember dates for certain events or to pick up milk from the grocery store because she was so forgetful. She never wrote anything sentimental or kept a ‘real’ diary.
I pushed the box over to the pile I’d allocated for trash, and I groaned as the damn thing fell apart. Again. These stupid old cardboard boxes!
Sighing, I picked up the books and tried to load them into another box which looked like it had space, but I picked up too many and several of the old day planners went tumbling out of my arms. As one of them—the 2011 one—fell to the wooden floorboards of the attic, a folded note slid out. Frowning, I picked it up and unfolded it. It looked like a letter to Jackson from Jenna, and judging by the little printed date on the top, it was written on April 1ST, two weeks before she died.
I knew I should mind my own business and give the letter straight to Jackson, but curiosity got the better of me, and I began to read.
Jackson,
I don’t know when I’ll give you this letter; maybe I’ll never need to. Maybe it’ll all come out in the open before then. But I needed to write it all and get it out of my system because the guilt and fear is tearing me up.
So I just want to start out by saying I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best partner. Probably closer to the worst. You’ve always been supportive, and I’ve taken advantage of that. I’ve cheated, I’ve lied, and Jackson…I did it again. I know we said we’d start fresh after last time, and I really thought I could do it. You’re so amazing, so sexy, so wonderful. So manly. I don’t know why it isn’t enough for me. I’ve always been like this in relationships. I just can’t settle down properly. You deserve better than me, and pretty soon you’re going to find out why. This time I didn’t just have a little fling. It went on for a long time with this guy, and now I’m pregnant.
There it is. I’m pregnant, Jackson.
I’m so sorry. I know it’s his. It’s still very early, but it’s going to come out soon. And I’m so scared. Not just because I’m having another man’s baby and I know you’re going to leave me. It’s him, too. The other man. I told him about the baby, and he told me I need to get an abortion because it will wreck his life. I don’t want to terminate, and I told him so. He said he’ll make me do it one way or another, and I’m getting worried for my own sake and the baby’s sake. I’m seeing him for lunch tomorrow to try and convince him otherwise, but I’m sure he’ll say the same thing.
I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that he’s all bark and no bite, and that’s why I can’t really take his silly little threat to the police or anything, but just in case, I’m protecting myself. And I’m protecting you too, Jackson. In case anything does happen to me anytime soon, I’m leaving you a lot of money. I know you already have money, but you’ve helped me out so much over the years. Been so generous. It’s the least I can do. I know money doesn’t make up for the fact that I cheated again, and I’m sorry if you find it insulting. But I don’t know what else I can do, other than beg for your forgiveness again and again.
I’m sorry, Jackson. Please don’t hate me.
Love,
Jenna
I felt numb as I read Jenna’s confession. No wonder Jackson never got this letter; Jenna was probably killed before she could work up the courage to give it to him, and it had remained hidden in the pages of one of her day planners until now. After all, it wasn’t like he had any reason to go rummaging through all her little calendars and day planners after her death.
I had no idea how he didn’t know she was pregnant when she died, though—at least he’d never said anything to me about it if he did—because I knew a coroner would probably know that she was from doing an autopsy on her body after her murder. Then again, she was shot three times in the abdomen after being shot once in the head, and the pregnancy was very early in its term, according to the letter I just read. Maybe the bullets did so much damage to that region that there was no way to tell. I felt sick to my stomach at the thought. It wasn’t just Jenna murdered in cold blood that day—her unborn baby was killed too.
I put the letter down with shaky hands as my mind whirled through all the possibilities. This man Jenna was cheating with…he was the one she’d been so afraid of, not my mother. He was the reason she bought a gun, just in case, and also took out a life insurance policy to leave Jackson money out of guilt on the off chance something happened to her.
Furrowing my brows, I wondered who the hell he was. A bolt of inspiration came to me a second later. I could find out! Jackson said Jenna was forgetful and always put everything in her day planner diaries to remind her, and her letter had mentioned that she was seeing the ‘other man’ the next day for lunch. The letter was dated April 1st, so all I had to do was check the entry for April 2nd to see if Jenna had added a note to remind herself about the lunch with her affair partner.
I picked up the 2011 planner and flicked through to the April section. On the day of April 2nd, there were several entries before lunch.
9am – Yoga
10:30 – Doctor’s appointment
11 – Pick up Jackson’s dry cleaning
11:15 – Pick up parcel from UPS office on 2nd Ave.
After that, her lunch date was noted for one o’clock P.M….and a name was given. I squinted at her scrawled handwriting, and my blood turned to ice water as I registered what the name was and what it could mean.
Oh my god.
Oh my fucking god…
It looked like my suspicions may have been correct all along. My mother didn’t kill Jenna, at least not randomly and of her own accord. Someone else was probably the mastermind behind Jenna’s death; someone who had a motive to see Jenna dead and the means to set my mother up at the same time.
That someone was my father.