Family Secrets (Brannon House Book 2) Read online

  “You know that for sure? How?”

  I look away. “I went to his class reunion with him.”

  “You what? And you didn't tell me?”

  “I didn’t realize it was so important. And it was all by chance. He called my company.”

  “Wait. You’re not really dating him? He’s just a client?”

  “The lines are a little blurred.”

  “You’re dating my dad?” Her eyes widen.

  “We don’t know that he’s your dad!”

  She holds up a finger. “His name is Graham.” Then she holds up another. “He’s the right age.” Another. “He’s from the area. He—”

  “Okay, okay. We still don’t know.” I struggle to think of something to say that will help the situation. “Let’s just focus on his safety for now. We can try to solve this mystery later—and I’m not talking about the moment he walks through the door. He’ll need to recover first. Sounds like he needs stitches.”

  My niece scowls. “I’m not going to say anything right now.”

  “Okay, good. We need to talk about it after all of this.”

  Crash! Crash! Rumble!

  My stomach drops to the floor.

  “What was that?” Ember turns to me, face paling even more than before.

  Screams sound from the tunnel.

  An officer races out, gasping for air.

  “What’s going on?” I demand.

  “The roof caved in! Several men are on the other side.”

  I step closer to my niece. “Is Detective Felton one of them?”

  “Yes. We need you to exit the premises.” He motions in the direction of the front door.

  “What?”

  “This is now a rescue mission. Go!”

  His authoritative tone makes both Ember and me jump. Then I grab her arm and pull her away.

  “Is he going to be okay?” she asks.

  “Yes.” As we pass the kitchen then the staircase, I look around for my mother. She’s still nowhere to be seen.

  “How do you know?” Ember demands.

  “How do I know what?” I crane my neck to see if my mother is hiding on the other side of the steps or maybe upstairs.

  She isn’t.

  My niece grabs my arm. “How do you know he’ll be okay? You can’t know that!”

  I pull her outside into the sun’s warm rays. “He’s smart, he worries about safety.”

  “But the tunnel collapsed! He already needs stitches. What if—”

  “Think positive.”

  “That’s not going to help anything.” She folds her arms across her chest.

  “It won’t hurt.”

  Chaos surrounds us as more police cruisers pull up, sirens wailing.

  Neighbors are also crowded around, standing at the edge of our property, staring and whispering. Dustin, the creepy history buff with perfect teeth, is in the middle of it all.

  Then comes an ambulance. Everyone rushes around us, seeming to not even see us.

  I collapse onto the lawn. Is Graham going to be okay? And is he really Ember’s father?

  29

  Kenzi

  Ember shakes next to me, and I pull her close, watching the excavator dig the earth. I’m still not sure how it managed to get so far into the woods. The driver obviously has some mad skills.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Her wide eyes and fear make her look much younger.

  My heart breaks for her. She just lost her mom and now she could possibly lose her dad.

  No! She’s not.

  “Of course. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “What about them?” She glances over at the construction crew tearing apart the ground.

  “I’m sure they do, or the police wouldn’t have hired them.”

  She frowns, pulls on her ear. “Do you think I’m crazy? Could he really be my dad?”

  Now that I’m looking for them, all I can see is similarities between the two of them. My stomach knots at the thought of having feelings for the same person my sister was with at one time. No, they didn’t have a relationship. But they did make a baby together. Maybe.

  “Kenzi?”

  “It’s a possibility. Let’s just focus on this for now.”

  She shivers. “I’m so cold.”

  “Let’s stand in the sun.”

  Ember looks around. “Then we won’t be able to see what they’re doing.”

  “We can go to the house and get some warmer clothes. I’m chilly too.”

  She frowns. “I don’t want to leave.”

  Neither do I, but it looks like I’m going to have to. “I’ll run in. Is there a jacket or sweater in particular you want?”

  “No. There’s probably something on my bed you can grab. I also have a bunch in my closet.”

  “Your bed, okay. Anything else while I’m heading in?”

  Ember wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head no, then steps to the side for a better look at the excavator.

  “I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Hurry.”

  “I will.” I dash back to the house, greeting the officers and construction workers I pass. My hands and feet are cold—it’s amazing the temperature difference between the woods and the sun. Once I step out of the trees, the heat wraps around me like a blanket, though it’s going to take some time before the chill leaves me.

  Once inside, I race to the tunnel entrance and stop before the steps, asking the cops milling around if there’s any news.

  Sergeant Whit turns to me. “We have people working from the tunnel and up on the ground, both trying to get to them.”

  “Are you still in contact with them?”

  He nods. “From the sounds of it, they’re pretty banged up.”

  “But they’re going to be okay?”

  “Felton might need some stitches or maybe a cast, but neither of those guys is going down anytime soon. That much I’m sure of.”

  “Thanks.” A little relief spreads through me as I spin around, eager to get a hoody on—maybe two. My hands are still cold.

  Before I turn toward the staircase, I stop.

  Chink, chink, chink.

  I hesitate, listen. Hear another noise. It’s too loud to be coming from the tunnel. And besides, it sounds like it’s coming from Dad’s office. It’s probably just Mom, and that’s enough for me to head for the stairs.

  But then I turn around. I need to check out the sounds. Quickly, though. Ember needs her hoody and I want to be there when the crews rescue Graham and his partner.

  Chink, chink, chink.

  I definitely can’t ignore that. It could just be my mom, or even someone working to get to the cave-in, though I don’t know why they’d be near the office.

  My heart picks up speed as I make my way over. It’s enough to make me forget how cold I am.

  Chink, chink, chink.

  I’ve never heard the noise before today. My mind races as I step into the office and look around.

  Nothing looks out of place. But that means nothing around here.

  I walk around, checking out every small crevice.

  Chink, chink, chink.

  The noises are louder in here. But they aren’t coming from the room. Where?

  Holding my breath, I wait.

  The second hand on Dad’s clock moves in slow motion. I can’t believe that thing is still going after so long. Could Mom have been replacing the batteries all this time?

  Chink, chink, chink.

  I straighten my back and focus. It’s coming from the left side of the room. Nothing’s over there aside from a bookshelf. There isn’t a room on the other side of the office.

  Is the noise somehow bouncing off the walls and ending up here from the tunnel?

  Seems like a long shot.

  I creep over to the bookshelf and cup my ear. Can’t hear anything.

  Chink, chink, chink.

  It’s louder here. But there isn’t anything to cause the sounds.

  Then I hear somethin
g that sends a shiver down my spine.

  Muffled voices. From a bookshelf.

  That’s not possible. It’s a shelf full of books. And there are no such things as ghosts. No. Such. Things. No, I can’t explain the occasional giggles I hear, other than my mind conjuring up memories.

  But there has to be an explanation. Like Mom sneaking in through a dangerous tunnel from the Prohibition. Not that it could explain this, but something like that.

  Chink, chink, chink.

  “Hello?” My voice barely comes out a whisper.

  My pulse drums in my ears, making it so I can’t hear anything else. I lean on the shelf for stability.

  Something catches my attention. The spine of one book reads Jack.

  My uncle? Brother? Or someone else, since it’s clearly a well-loved family name.

  I pull on the book. It sticks, but then the top pulls toward me.

  Creak!

  The entire shelf shakes. It moves toward me. Opens like a door.

  My mouth falls open in shock.

  The shelf continues moving toward me. I jump out of the way just before it hits me.

  I stare, hardly able to believe my eyes.

  A door disguised as a shelf. It’s so cliché, but at the same time, so brilliant. Who would ever suspect it? I certainly never did.

  The question is, what was my dad hiding?

  Chink, chink, chink.

  I’m about to find out.

  My mind runs wild with ideas, but I have no clue. I pull out my phone, not sure if I’m going to need it to call for help or to get pictures of something nobody will ever believe.

  I step into what looks like a hallway. Dust clings to the faded paint, and floorboards creak under my weight.

  My breath hitches when voices sound again.

  How is this possible? People are in here? It can’t be. Must be a recording of some sort. Yeah, that’s it. It has to be.

  I hold still for a few moments and watch my phone shake in my hand. I’m going to be useless if whatever I find is dangerous.

  I should’ve gone upstairs to get the hoodies.

  Too late now. I’m in too deep.

  Shadows move up ahead.

  Shadows.

  I’m an idiot. I should turn around now.

  I keep going. The hall is short.

  It leads to a room. Looks like a cross between the movie room upstairs and a boy’s bedroom.

  But that isn’t what’s crazy.

  My mom is holding the hand of some guy at least half her age with shaggy hair and wild eyes. They’re sitting on a bed with cowboy bedding. The guy is staring at me. Mom is fussing with his shirt.

  “What’s going on?”

  My mom turns to me, her eyes wide. “Mackenzie.”

  I don’t bother correcting her. “What are you doing?”

  “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “I don’t even know what I’m looking at!”

  She rises and quickly looks back and forth between me and the man. He looks like a younger version of my dad.

  “What are you two doing in here? And what is this place?”

  The man stands, still staring at me. Doesn’t say anything.

  I narrow my eyes at my mother. “Explain yourself!”

  “I … your … he …” She clears her throat. “Let me start over. This is your brother, Jack.”

  “Jack’s alive?”

  He perks up, takes a step toward me.

  Mom blocks him. “Jack, no.”

  He says something, but I can’t tell what.

  “Mom?” I fumble with my phone, ready to take pictures. “Why is my brother living here?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Then give me the short version! I need to get out there and check on Graham. Your tunnel collapsed on him!”

  She lets go of Jack’s hand. “What?”

  “Long story. You first.”

  “They were going to take him away. Lock him up! We couldn’t allow that. He’s our son!”

  I look around. “Isn’t he locked up here?”

  “Yes, but at least he’s home. Safe with us. Not with those doctors, and not in a jail.”

  “Jail?” I look him over. He’s at least as tall as my dad was, and he had been a hulk of a guy. If Jack’s hair was cut and he wore nicer clothes, he could easily have been my dad’s twin. There’s no doubt about him being a Brannon. My brother.

  “Why did they want to lock him up?” I back up a few steps.

  My brother continues staring at me. Not that I could blame him—he likely hasn’t seen another person in ages.

  Mom motions for me to sit in a recliner across from them.

  I don’t budge. “I’m good here. Tell me what’s going on. Ember’s waiting for me, cold in the woods.”

  She grimaces. “Jack is a good boy. He just doesn’t know his own strength, that’s all.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He’s not like you and me. There were some complications at the birth, and they didn’t have the advances in technology they do now. He was without air for a little too long, and it affected his thinking. Mostly his impulse control. He’s a good boy.”

  “He’s a middle-aged man, not a boy.”

  Mom puts her arm around him. “He’s my boy. Be careful what you say around him. He’s sensitive.”

  I study my brother—it’s such a strange thought. The brother that I only recently found out about is actually alive.

  His eyes are curious as he continues to take me in. Seeing me must blow his mind.

  “Hi, Jack.” I take a step closer. “I’m your sister, Kenzi.”

  “Kenzi.” He reaches a hand toward me.

  Mom’s eyes widen. “Be gentle, Jack.”

  I inch closer and finally shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he repeats slowly and squeezes my hand.

  Mom’s mouth gapes, her stance tenses.

  I meet her gaze. “Why did they want to lock him away?”

  “Let’s discuss this out there.” She nods toward the hall, toward Dad’s office.

  “Kenzi,” Jack says.

  I wrap his hands in both of mine and look into his eyes. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

  “Promise.”

  “Yes.” I nod vehemently. “I’m glad to have met you.”

  “Meet you.”

  A lump forms in my throat, then I follow Mom to Dad’s office after she settles Jack in with a streamed movie. She closes the shelf-door and pushes the book back into place like it’s the most normal thing ever. Only then does she turn to me.

  “Why have you been keeping him in there? How long has this been going on? Was he there my entire life? Did Claire know about him?”

  Mom holds up a hand. “Slow down. I can only answer one question at a time.”

  “Why is he in there?” Spittle flies from my mouth, I’m so furious.

  “So he could be home with us. He wouldn’t survive in an institution—there’s no way they would take care of him like his parents would.”

  I narrow my eyes. “If you didn’t want him to go, why would he?”

  She takes a deep breath. “He doesn’t understand things the way we do. Didn’t grasp his growing strength as he got older.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Mom closes her eyes for a moment and leans on Dad’s desk. “He never meant to hurt anyone. He thought he was playing. Now he knows he has to be gentle.”

  I tilt my head, pulse racing. “What did he do?”

  She looks away. “He killed a little neighbor girl.”

  I gasp. “He what?”

  “They were playing hide and seek, like they had so many times before. He was older, but mentally they were pretty well matched.”

  I back up until I come to a wall. “You raised Claire and me in the same house as a killer?”

  “He can’t get out! You were never in danger, not from him.”

  “Who did he kill
?”

  “It was years before you were born, you never knew the family. They moved away after the incident.”

  “The incident?” I balk.

  Mom hugs herself, looking toward the shelf. “Jack didn’t mean to hurt Billa. He didn’t even know what he did. For years, he kept asking for her to come and play with him.”

  My breath hitches. “Billa?”

  She looks at me. “Just like your imaginary friend. You never did tell us how you found out about her. Do you remember?”

  My secret brother killed my apparently not-so-imaginary friend? Years before I ever met and played with her?

  “Kenzi?”

  “I need some air.” I run from the room.

  30

  Ember

  The too-big hoodie hangs down to my knees, but I don’t care. At least it’s warm. I hope the construction worker who lent it to me doesn’t get cold, but he’s busy shoveling dirt and appears to be sweating.

  I glance around for Kenzi again. She left over a half hour ago, and my mind is offering me only crazy explanations. Like Grandma going crazy and setting off on a bloody rampage. Or one of the ghosts deciding it wants to be a poltergeist.

  But it’s probably none of those things. Maybe a journalist showed up, and my aunt is giving an interview. Or the cops could’ve stopped her to ask questions about the tunnel—not that she would know much. We haven’t even gone in there.

  “Got them!” someone shouts.

  My heart leaps into my throat. I pull the hoodie closer and hurry over to the site.

  One of the policemen puts his hand out.

  I sigh. If only I could tell him the detective might be my dad. But I have to talk to Graham first. I still can’t believe his first name is Graham. And that my aunt has been seeing him. I can’t decide if that’s cool or gross. Maybe both. I mean, in an ideal world, we could all be a family. Or things could get weird really fast. And even though he’s a nice guy, that doesn’t mean he wants to be a dad. Seriously, who dreams of being a single parent?

  I truly hate all the unknowns. There are a million questions flying through my mind. Most of them have answers I don’t want. Like, what if Graham thinks I only want money? Or what if he doesn’t like me? Or if he denies ever having known my mom? He could do that—he was the detective on her murder investigation and never once said anything about having ever met her.