To whoever finds this.
No one made a move at first, each frozen, wondering what the letter might contain. Finally, Clay walked forward, stepping over the puddled blood. He reached for the envelope.
“Wait,” Frank stopped him, holding out a hand. “Here.” He held out a pair of leather gloves. “Fingerprints,” he cautioned.
Clay took the gloves. “This feels weird. I don’t like trying to hide that we were here. I’m a cop, you know,” he said to no one in particular. He carefully opened the envelope, his eyes skimming over the page before he gulped, looking up. “It’s a suicide note,” he confirmed what they already knew.
He read aloud, “To whoever finds this, to whoever finds me: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. They didn’t have to die. That was on me. I couldn’t live with myself and all that I’ve done wrong any longer. I couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing I’ve killed my best friend—a man that I loved. If you’re reading this, please let them know how sorry I am. I’d take it all back in a second if I could.” He looked up. “That’s all it says.”
Peighton covered her mouth. “So, it’s really true? It was really Drew all along? He killed Todd? And Sarah? He was right under our nose this whole time.”
“That’s how it sounds,” Frank said, his jaw tight. “He’d better be glad he’s dead.” His fists were clenched at his sides. Peighton could practically smell the anger resonating from him.
“Frank,” she said, shocked by his harsh words. “Don’t.”
“Don’t defend him, Peighton,” he warned her. “Don’t you dare defend this coward. Don’t you realize what he’s done?”
She walked toward him, touching his arm softly. He jumped at her touch, lost in his own world. “I know what he’s done,” she told him. “Frank, I do. I don’t understand it. I’m hurt by it. I hate him for it. But we have our answers. And right now, we just have to focus on that. We need to leave. You were right. We shouldn’t be here.”
Frank nodded, though his eyes never left Drew’s lifeless body. Clay placed the letter back in the envelope and laid it down.
“Let’s go,” Frank agreed with her finally.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t call someone?” Clay asked.
She shook her head. “We’ve done nothing wrong. We’re leaving him for someone else to find. There’s nothing that can be solved by us calling the police now. He can’t be saved.” She was surprised by the calm in her voice, the polar opposite of the storm brewing inside of her. Following her lead, the men walked out of the dining room and then out of the house. Frank stopped at the door cautiously, wiping off the metal of the door knob where his hands had been. They looked around, checking to make sure no one had seen them. Quickly, they disappeared down the driveway and to the car. The actions felt foreign to each of them: the Senator’s perfect wife, the cop, and the security expert. They’d never had to hide like criminals, and yet that’s exactly what they were doing. They climbed into Frank’s car, not speaking.
After they’d driven a few blocks, Clay spoke up. “It could be days until someone finds him. Weeks even.”
“He could’ve been there for days already,” Frank said.
“No,” Clay corrected him. “Did you see the blisters on his skin? He was solid as a rock. He’d reached maximum rigor mortis. He’d been dead less than twenty-four hours, I’d say. Maybe less than twelve.”
Peighton shivered. “No one breathe a word of this to Kyle. I don’t want him to know anything about this.”
They nodded in agreement. “No one needs to know we were here, besides the three of us,” Frank told them.
“I owe you an apology,” Clay’s voice carried to the front of the car. Peighton turned to look at him. His eyes were locked with Frank’s in the rearview mirror. Frank dismissed him, waving his hand.
“Nah, you’re cool, dude.”
“No,” Clay said. “I thought you were behind all of this. When I found your card in my wife’s wallet, I thought for sure I had it all figured out. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”
Frank held his arm up over his shoulder, shaking Clay’s hand in the backseat. “We’re okay, but I appreciate you saying that. I’m not going to lie, I thought you were behind it all for a while there too.”
Clay laughed. “What?”
“Yeah, I even had you tailed at one point,” Frank admitted.
“Why?”
“I wanted to protect her,” he said, looking at Peighton. He reached over and squeezed her hand quickly before pulling his gaze away.
“You and me both,” Clay agreed.
Frank sighed. “I did know your wife, by the way. Sarah Williams.”
Clay and Peighton gasped in unison.
“I didn’t want to tell you because I have agreements with my clients and I never break my agreements. Plus, you were really pissing me off.”
“How did you know her?” he asked.
“We worked together for a short time. I was sorry to hear about her passing.”
“What did you work together on?”
Frank sighed, rubbing his chin. “She thought you were cheating on her. She hired me to investigate.” He glanced up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I didn’t find anything.”
He wiped his eye, though Peighton saw no tears. “I would never.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry I lied. I didn’t know her well and to be honest, Sarah Nealson didn’t ring any bells at first. She’d always introduced herself as Sarah Williams. Once I realized who you were talking about, we were too far into the argument for me to admit I knew her.”
“Did you get to tell her I wasn’t cheating? Before she died?”
“Yes,” Frank said, “she knew.”
Clay nodded. That seemed to give him some peace.
“We’re in this together now, guys,” Peighton said. “We’re the only ones who know the secrets. All of them: Todd’s, Drew’s, mine, Kyle’s, yours, and yours.” She pointed to each of them. “It’s just us now.”
“Yep,” Frank teased, “and just like Mary-Kate and Ashley, my lips are sealed.”
Peighton laughed, despite the feeling of complete devastation, fear, and confusion in the pit of her stomach, she’d never felt so safe. Surrounded by the men she loved and who loved her, she was home.
Forty-One
PEIGHTON
When they arrived home, Peighton was surprised to see Isabel’s car in the driveway. It was the first time she’d been over in the days since their fight. Honestly, Peighton wasn’t sure when or if she’d see her again.
Though the mystery surrounding Todd’s death had been somewhat solved, she still felt uneasy as she walked into her house. Isabel sat next to Kyle on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table.
“Isabel?” Peighton asked. “What are you doing here?”
The woman looked confused. “I work here, don’t I?”
“Well, I was beginning to wonder,” Peighton answered honestly.
“I needed time, Ms. Peighton. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Can I talk to you?” Peighton asked, motioning for the men to follow her. Kyle looked at her.
“You aren’t firing her, are you?”
“Why would I fire her, Kyle?”
“Because she kept my secret and helped me hide. It wasn’t her fault, Mom. I begged her to help me.”
Peighton’s face fell, her heart breaking at his words. “You…knew? Did everyone know before me?” she asked, looking around the room.
Isabel stood up from the couch, her hands held neatly in front of her. “I should have told you, Ms. Peighton, but it wasn’t my secret to tell. You of all people should relate to that. I only did what I believed was best for Kyle. I know helping him hide wasn’t wise, but I wanted to protect him. I’ve always had his best interests at heart. He’s like a son to me.”
“I understand keeping secrets, Izzy. And I know why you did it. I’m honestly so thankful you were there for him when I couldn’t be.” She didn’t mention how much it hurt her to know nearly everyone around Kyle had known before she had. “Now, could we talk, please?” she asked again, continuing to walk into the kitchen. The three adults followed her. Kyle stood to come, but Frank pointed his finger at him.