I went downstairs to the kitchen, still marveling at the epic size of this house and that I lived here. I poured a glass of water, then turned off the kitchen light. On my way out of the room, my hand knocked over something on the counter, sending it crashing to the floor. “Shit!”
I turned the light back on and found a shattered bowl of mints. I thought of the note I'd gotten in the hospital. Mints and cigars.
My head spun, eyes buzzing as lights flashed around me.
Then, nothing.
***
I sat in front of a house I didn't recognize, but I knew the address. Lauren, my therapist. How did I get here? She came to the door, her face pinched in annoyance. "It's really not appropriate for you to show up at my door unannounced in the middle of the night, Catelyn. This crosses a line."
My face burned in humiliation. "I'm sorry. I don't know how I got here."
She looked around outside, then opened her door. "Come in. It's too cold out there."
I looked down and realized I wasn't wearing any shoes or jacket, just the sweater and pants I'd been wearing while with Ash.
We sat on her living room couch, and she offered me some hot tea after I texted Ash. She wrapped herself in a silk robe, her hair loose and draped over her shoulders. "Tell me what happened."
I told her what I was doing before finding myself at her house, and she told me to make sure Ash brought my medication when he came to pick me up.
We sat and talked and she probed me for what I was thinking before I blacked out. "These things usually happen around a stressful trigger. What triggered you this time?"
"I'm worried about Ash," I confessed. "Do you know anything about Ash's trial when he was young? The one my mom was involved with?"
"I do. I was the psych consult. I worked on a few cases back then."
"What did you discover?" I wiped a sweaty palm on my pants and tried to stop my shaking.
Lauren looked troubled, her mouth pinched. "I can't share that with you, Catelyn. You know that."
"Is… is there something there to share? Something I need to know?"
Lauren didn't answer, and the doorbell rang. Ash looked worried sick. "What happened? You went downstairs to get water and then you were gone."
I buried my face in his chest, wishing I could trust him without reservation. Wishing there weren't so many secrets in my life. "I'm sorry. I blacked out and must have done some kind of sleepwalking. Did you bring my meds?"
He handed them to me, and I took them and waved goodbye to Lauren, who still look haunted by something she couldn't talk about.
Once home, Ash wanted me to go to bed, but I couldn't rest. I needed to know what happened to my mother all those years ago. I pulled out the box of pictures and letters I'd been collecting and started looking through them again.
One picture seemed thicker than the others, and I realized it was stuck to another one. I peeled the hidden one off the back, careful not to tear it, and found a picture that sent shivers up my arms.
It was of my mother in a formal ball gown, holding a glass of champagne.
With Mr. Beaumont putting an arm around her.
Chapter Twenty Six
Past Betrayals
ASH HAD SOME meetings that afternoon, and I used that time to drive to the Beaumonts’. The entire drive there I questioned whether this was the best course of action, but I knew I wouldn't turn around. I had to know what the picture meant, if anything.
I felt a pang of sadness when I pulled up to their house. They had to live with the daily knowledge that their daughter was missing. It weighed heavily on me, but I couldn't imagine being a parent and losing a child like that. And once again I felt guilty for what happened to Bridgette.
Mrs. Beaumont answered the door, dressed in her customary pearls and a cream cashmere dress. Her face paled when she saw me. "Oh, Catelyn, I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here right now."
"I just need to ask you and Mr. Beaumont a few questions. I'll be very fast. I'm trying to help find Bridgette, I swear."
At the name of her daughter, Mrs. Beaumont's face collapsed.
Mr. Beaumont stormed in. "What are you doing here, young lady? How dare you come to our house after all you've done? Get out! Right now!" He was screaming in my face, his spittle hitting my nose, and Mrs. Beaumont shied away in fear or grief, I couldn't tell which.
I backed up, my heart pounding, fear coursing through my veins. "I'm sorry. I'm leaving. I'm just trying to help."
"You've helped enough," he screamed. "Your whole family has helped quite enough!"
I didn't know what he meant by that, but didn't think this was the time to ask. Instead, I drove away as fast as I could, still shaking from the confrontation, and wiped my face with my sleeve.
Just as I pulled onto the freeway my cellphone rang. "Catelyn, it's Mrs. Beaumont. I need to speak with you. Can you meet me for coffee?"
We met thirty minutes later at a coffee house near Harvard, a place Bridgette and I liked to meet when I had the money.
I secured us a table outside, under the sun, which had come out today and made me feel like spring was coming soon.