Family Secrets (Brannon House Book 2) Read online

  “We’ve been getting by just fine.”

  “I hope you’re at least taking vitamins. You need to make up for your poor nutrition somewhere.” She places meat onto the counter.

  “Not that I need to defend myself to you, but we have plenty of green smoothies.”

  “Smoothies.” She makes a face then continues digging through the fridge.

  Ember throws me a confused look.

  I shrug, hardly able to believe the situation. But here we are, and I have to figure out what to do. Get to the bottom of what’s really going on. Has my mother been sneaking into the house ever since we moved in? Longer? Ever since she was committed?

  She hums as she begins cooking the meat.

  I lean against the counter. “How long have you been sneaking in here?”

  “What do you mean?” She sprinkles spices onto the meat.

  “When did you start sneaking in here? Just recently, or all five years?”

  “I’d rather talk about something else. Hand me the noodles.”

  I glare at her but do as she asks. “We need to discuss this. Then we have to get you back to the retirement home after this little field trip.”

  “Oh, I’ve been checked out. My time there is done.”

  “What? They just let you go? No paperwork? What about your things? I can’t believe they’d do that without informing me first!”

  “Your permission isn’t necessary. I’m a fully functioning adult.” She opens the oven and looks in before closing it. “And technically, nobody was placed as my guardian after Claire’s death. I was completely overlooked.” She glances at me. “Don’t look at me like that. I expected that, and it worked in my favor.”

  “This is unbelievable. You can’t live here!”

  “Why not?” My mother stirs the meat and adds more spices. “This has been my home for half a century.”

  “Not for the last five years, it hasn’t.”

  “Only to keep me safe.”

  I bite my tongue to keep from asking what I really want to ask, but can’t yet—why were her prints on that knife upstairs and whose blood was all over that room?

  Ember steps over to where we are. “Safe from what, Grandma?”

  “Your horrible stepfather.”

  “What was he going to do to you?”

  “Kill me, like I said.”

  Ember’s brows furrow. “But what made you think that?”

  “He told me as much, dear.” Mom pours salt into the boiling water.

  My niece’s eyes widen. “He told you he was going to kill you?”

  “He did.” She stirs the meat again and lowers the heat.

  I lean against the counter. “Why didn’t you call the police? Speak with Claire?”

  “Richard became best friends with the old captain. The man could get away with anything. Well, almost anything. I’m glad to see murder wasn’t actually on that list. How was I to know?”

  I rub my temples. “What’s going on now? Your plan is to live here?”

  “Yes.” She picks up a box of frozen asparagus. “Fresh vegetables are so much healthier than frozen.”

  “You can do the shopping from here on out. Problem solved.” I pour myself a glass of wine even though I want something much stronger.

  Mom glances at my glass. “I should’ve offered you two something to drink.”

  “Ember’s too young for alcohol, Mom.”

  “I didn’t mean hard drinks, Mackenzie.”

  “I go by Kenzi.”

  “But that’s not your name. I should know—I gave it to you.”

  “You and Dad did.”

  She shrugs and puts the asparagus in a pan.

  I finish my wine. “Tell us about the tunnel. How long have you been using it?”

  “Many years. Since I was a young lady.”

  “Did Dad know?”

  “Of course not. I don’t think he even knew it existed.”

  Ember and I exchange another glance.

  “What did you use it for back then?” I ask.

  She wrinkles her forehead. “What do you think? It’s never been easy being married to such a powerful man. You think Richard got away with a lot—that’s nothing compared to the man whose bloodline started this town. Everyone always thought I was so lucky to marry into such wealth, but nobody ever considered what it was like to be under the thumb of the Brannon men.”

  “Men?” I lift a brow. “As in, plural?”

  “Yes, dear. Your grandfather lived a long life, and we mustn’t forget Jack.”

  “Jack? Which one?”

  “Your uncle.” She removes the meat from the stove.

  “He’s dead.”

  “But he wasn’t always.”

  I rub my temples. “He died as a boy.”

  “No. He died young. In his twenties. Though given the way people act nowadays, that could still be considered a boy.”

  I hold back an eye roll. “So, you knew Uncle Jack?”

  “Yes. I lived here in this house with all three of the Brannon men. Let me tell you, this place felt tiny with those tyrants all under one roof.”

  “Grandpa wasn’t a tyrant!” Ember stomps a foot.

  “Not to you girls, no.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask.

  “He treated you girls like gold.”

  I snort. “You seem to forget I couldn’t do a thing right by either one of you. That’s the reason I fled to LA.”

  She holds my gaze a moment before speaking. “You always were the smart one.”

  It’s a good thing I’m done with my wine, or it would go right up my nose. “Me? Yeah, right. You know better than that—you complained about my grades more than anyone else.”

  “You could’ve done a lot better if you’d tried. We all know that.”

  Ember lifts a brow.

  “I don’t want to talk about my grades right now. Stop circling the topics. How did you get released from the home? And how did you get here?”

  She takes a deep breath. “I already told you. I’m of sound mind—they can’t hold me.”

  “I mean, how did you get inside?”

  “We already established that. I went through the tunnel. I’ve been using it for decades.”

  “Why didn’t you knock? Ring the bell? Call me?”

  “I did all three. No answer. So, I went around back and came through the one way I knew I could get in without a key.”

  “How’d you call me?” I ask. “My phone didn’t ring.”

  “The man who drove me called.”

  “Doesn’t explain my phone not ringing.”

  “You were upstairs, right?” she asks.

  “Yeah. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “The cell signals have always jammed up there.”

  I tilt my head. “You’d know that how?”

  “Because I’ve lived here most of my life. Check your phone.”

  To humor her, I pull out my phone. Sure enough, it shows a missed call when Ember and I were on the third floor. I also have a message from Dayton.

  “Am I right?” Mom looks like she’s trying not to smirk.

  “You know my number off the top of your head?”

  She taps her temple. “I have a memory like a steel trap. You’ve had the same number since you got your first phone.”

  I take a deep breath. “Where’s your luggage?”

  “I have one suitcase. It’s underneath the main staircase. You probably didn’t see it because it’s tucked away so well.”

  My head is spinning. I pinch the top of my nose, not that it helps. “And you just signed yourself out of the facility?”

  She nods. “That place is for people with severe memory issues.”

  I mull over the deception. “What about the medication?”

  “What do you think? I spit them out when nobody was looking.” Mom looks proud of herself.

  “How’d you get in, in the first place? Into the facility, I mean.”

  “
It was easy. I always dreamed of being an actress. If I hadn’t married your father, that’s what I would’ve done. I’d have gone to Hollywood and made a name for myself.”

  “You wanted to go to California?”

  “Who do you think planted that idea in your mind, Mackenzie?”

  “Kenzi! Call me Kenzi.”

  “I don’t know why you’d choose to butcher such a pretty name, but okay. I’ll call you Kenzi, if that’ll make you happy.”

  “Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth. “What makes you think you planted the idea of Cali in my head?”

  She takes the boiling pasta off the stove and turns to me. “When you were little, we used to talk about how fun it would be to go there and act. We made up stories about what kinds of movies we’d be in, and how much fun it would be. Even though you don’t remember the conversations, clearly they made an impact. And you’re still acting up here?”

  “I suppose you could call it that. It’s hardly as glamorous as you’d have wanted for yourself.”

  “But you’re happy with it?”

  “Yeah. It’s a lot of fun.”

  “Good. That’s what matters.”

  I just stare at her. Who is this woman?

  24

  Kenzi

  I close my eyes but can’t sleep. I’ve been trying but it’s fruitless. There are a thousand more questions I have for my mother, but it got too late to ask them all. After we ate dinner, she claimed she was too tired and wanted to go to bed. And before that, she wanted to know about our lives and wouldn’t answer any more questions about herself.

  She’s staying in the largest guest room, which is at the back of the second floor, about as far away from Ember and me as possible. The room had originally been used for the most important houseguests, and many times held large families. It’s almost as big as the master bedroom, which is now mine.

  Mom had said she wouldn’t take it even if we’d left it as it had been when it’d been hers and Dad’s. She claimed it held too many bad memories. The more she spoke openly about Dad, the more clear it became how much she despised not only him but also his father and brother. She kept referring to them as the Brannon men and had a scowl each time she said that.

  After dinner, I called the facility and confirmed her story. She was no longer a resident, and the owner himself had dropped her off at the house—but obviously hadn’t stuck around long enough to make sure she got inside.

  Given the entire stunt my mother had pulled, I couldn’t help but wonder if the owner was in on her plan from the beginning. Why he would be was anyone’s guess. Though I’m sure it had to do with money. As Mom had basically said herself, Brannon money got people all kinds of favors.

  And now that she’s back here, I don’t know what to think. How did her prints get on that knife upstairs? Did she actually kill someone? If so, who? And when? It had to have been a long time ago, given the thick layer of dust in the room. Nothing had been touched up there in the decades before Ember found everything. Her pictures proved as much. The dust hadn’t been disturbed until she went up.

  Beyond that, I also want to know how the two Jacks died. Mom did know Dad’s brother. He hadn’t died in childhood. He’d been in his twenties. Was it his blood on the knife? How did my brother die? Or is he still alive somewhere? I don’t know why he would be, given he’d have had to walk away from family and the inheritance. Unless, like me, he just wanted to get away from the insanity. Maybe he didn’t live up to the high Brannon family expectations.

  What if we now have a killer living with us? Did she kill in self-defense? Or had it been something more sinister? It was hard to believe anything that came from her mouth considering she’d spent the last five years faking dementia.

  It was obvious where I got my acting skills from. At least I used mine for good. I don’t know what to think about her. For all Ember and I know, she’s still putting on a performance. Everything she told us could’ve been lies. Except I know what she said about the facility is true. The rest of it is one big question mark.

  I fling off my covers and sit up. How am I supposed to sleep knowing a killer could be living with us? I get up and tiptoe to Ember’s room.

  Knock, knock.

  “Come in.”

  I open the door and find her lounging on her bed, typing on her laptop. “Can’t sleep?”

  She closes it quickly. “Nope.”

  “What do you think about your grandma being here?”

  “It’s weird. I mean, I guess it’s good, but it’s strange. She’s been lying about the memory loss this whole time? Mom and I used to visit her, and she never once gave us a clue.”

  “You don’t know why Richard might want her dead?”

  Ember shrugs. “Because he’s a jerk?”

  “Can’t argue with that.” I take a deep breath. “Do you feel safe with her here?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  I don’t bring up the knife. No point in scaring her if I don’t have to.

  She lifts a brow.

  “At least now when we hear strange noises at night, we know it’s probably her. We had no clue she was coming here through that tunnel.”

  “Still doesn’t explain everything,” Ember says.

  “Such as?”

  “The little girl giggling.” She gives me a knowing look.

  “That could be explained by a lot of things.”

  Ember yawns. “We can talk about that later. I need to get some sleep. Gretchen wants to go to the beach tomorrow with some kids from school.”

  “Oh, good.” I give her a hug. “I’m so glad you’re getting together with friends more.”

  “I wouldn’t really call the others friends.”

  “Why not?”

  She groans. “Like I said, I’m tired. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.” I get up and close the door behind me, then make my way down the hall to Mom’s new room.

  The light is on, and shadows move under her door.

  I’m tempted to knock but don’t want to get sucked into a conversation. Like my niece, I need some sleep. I have another lunch date tomorrow outside of town. Part of me wants to stay and keep an eye on my mom, but the sane part of me wants to be as far away from her as I can get.

  Back in my room, I close the door and flop back onto the bed. A spring digs into my side, reminding me I promised Ember we could both get new furniture for our rooms. I scoot over and look at my phone.

  I never checked the message Dayton sent. Maybe he wants to discuss our Thanksgiving date. It’s a way off still—it’s only August—but he’s mentioned it numerous times when we’ve seen or spoken with each other.

  I check the message. He asks about a date, but much sooner than November.

  Dayton: My family is persuasive. I’m actually considering a branch of my business up in Seattle and have another luncheon scheduled next week. Are you willing to have another meal with my family? They really like you. If you’re up for it, let me know and we can discuss the details.

  I have to re-read the message twice to make sure I’m seeing it right. But I am. He actually wants another date with me.

  Now I have two regular clients, when before I rarely had a repeat customer. Actually, given the earlier coffee date with Graham, I’m not sure what to label us. I had thought we’d be meeting while he was on the clock, but he’s on vacation and he kept putting his hand on top of mine and looking at me the way he did.

  It doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for anything serious. That’s the last thing I need. It’s also the last thing either one of them want, so I don’t know why I’m getting freaked out. Graham probably only had his hand on mine to be friendly. Friends do that.

  Then why is my face warming? Not that it matters. My life is crazy enough without adding in the drama of actual dates.

  I send Dayton a quick message to let him know I’d love to see his family again.

  The dancing dots indicate he’s responding already.

  I want
to ask what he’s doing up so late, but that would be getting too personal. He probably works late. Long hours. One of those guys who has a setup so he can sleep in the office to save time. Not that it’s any of my business.

  Dayton: Great news. I’ll contact the agency to set up the details. See you soon.

  Kenzi: Sounds like a plan. Goodnight.

  Dayton: Pleasant dreams.

  I stare at those two words. They seem a bit too personal. Or is it a typical British response to goodnight? I’m probably making too big a deal of this, blowing things out of proportion because I’m trying to process everything my mother has said since she showed up.

  What I need is to get some rest. Everything will look different in the morning.

  I hope.

  Not that anything will have changed. My mom, who is capable of living a lie for years on end, is now back in the house. And I have no idea what her angle is.

  25

  Ember

  My heart is still racing. I can’t believe I almost let Kenzi see what I was doing on my computer. If I were smart, I’d have closed the laptop before she came in, but I thought she was just going to check on me. I didn’t expect her to sit down and try to have a heart-to-heart with me.

  I glance at my door for what has to be the fiftieth time. She must’ve gone to bed. I really don’t want her to know what I’m doing. I’m not even sure I want to go down that path. But so far, I’m just looking. No harm in that.

  Especially considering I’m not finding anything.

  I reopen my laptop and stare at the search in front of me. There are a surprising amount of Grahams in the eastern states, especially the south. Must be a popular name there. Or at least more popular than here. I’ve never even met one.

  If only my mom had gotten more information about him. But I can’t blame her. It wasn’t like she thought he was going to father her child. It was just supposed to be a one-time encounter. She wasn’t expecting to get me out of it.