CHAPTER THIRTY
COME CLEAN
AS OLIVIA WALKED THROUGH the front door of MacFadden's and up to the second floor several weeks later, she was unsure of whether she would have enough inner strength to get through that night. Waves of emotion rushed over her when she saw the swarms of people there for Melanie’s memorial celebration. Huge photos of the chipper blonde adorned all the walls, people scribbling their good-byes on them through their tear-soaked eyes.
Feeling a lump form in her throat, Olivia dashed to the bar, desperately wanting to forget about everything that had happened…or at least down a few drinks to try to numb the pain that was starting to take over. After gulping back the amber liquid, she began to relax.
“Is this seat taken?”
Olivia stilled at the voice. She sighed and turned to face Alexander. “No. Have a seat.”
He flagged down a bartender and placed his drink order, Olivia signaling for another drink, as well.
“Carol said that she saw you down at the station earlier.” He attempted to make small talk.
“Yeah. They had more questions about Lucas and his brother, Dylan, if that really is his brother.”
Alexander nodded, proceeding with caution now that Olivia was finally talking to him. Over the past few weeks, things had been awkward between them. She continued to live at her old brownstone on Commonwealth Avenue, but would let him in anytime he appeared at her door. She rebuked every attempt he made to help her see why he was refusing to tell her what those guys were after. Instead, they would sit on the couch together in silence, Olivia glaring at him, hoping that he would finally crack and come clean.
“How many times are they going to have you go down to answer more questions? I’ll talk to Carol and have them come to your house. You shouldn’t have to be inconvenienced.”
Olivia took a sip of her fresh drink and turned to face him, noticing how gaunt he looked. It was obvious that he hadn’t been sleeping well. Guilt overwhelmed her conscience for causing the painful appearance that he exuded. She felt the same way. She hated life without Alexander and she wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things were before, although she knew that too much had happened for that to be possible. “I don’t mind,” she said.
“Have they found anything?”
She shook her head in resignation. “No. They haven’t been able to uncover any evidence linking Melanie’s death to anyone other than Lucas, no matter what I’ve told them happened in the boathouse.”
“They’ve questioned me regarding what I know about Mark Kiddish, but that’s been a dead end, too. As far as they’re concerned, his name change to Donovan O’Laughlin was reasonable after his father’s disappearance, and he runs a legitimate consulting business with strong ties to the community. Without any actual proof that this guy is behind it, there’s not much that can be done.”
“They told me the same thing. The phone call was traced to Lucas’ cell so they couldn’t find anything there. And the asshole has refused to answer any questions, other than insisting that he was working alone. He’s definitely playing the deranged psycho rather well. So, based on his answers and the fact that they’ve found nothing on his supposed brother, Dylan, it’s not looking like this will lead back to anyone other than him.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, shifting nervously on his barstool. “How’s Kiera doing?”
“Better. She still has no memory of what happened that night, and neither Mo nor I really want to be the one to tell her.” She glanced at him and he gave her a knowing look before she returned her attention to the drink in front of her. “It’s almost like her brain is trying to protect her from remembering what she probably endured those twelve hours. She’s starting to perk up a bit and she doesn’t appear to be in too much pain anymore. I was just there with her before I had Agent Marshall drive me here.”
“Thanks for that…for having her drive you.”
Olivia turned her head and gave him an icy stare before softening her expression, almost pleading with him to finally tell her the reason why he wants her to have constant protection…to tell her what those men are after.
“You need to understand where I’m coming from here, Olivia.” He answered the question that was written plain as day on her face.
She sighed. “I get it, Alex. I really do. I understand your reasons, and so do the police. Unfortunately, they're on your side here. But I don’t want to be left in the dark. I don’t want you keeping all this information, holding it over me, saying that it’s too dangerous for me to even know about my own past. Let me make those decisions.” Olivia got up from her barstool, needing to distance herself from him before she broke down and jumped back into his arms.
“That house in Newport!” he shouted, getting her attention. She turned around to face him, her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms defensively in front of her body. He lowered his voice. “The one you had me stop at when we were there for the marathon.”
She glared at him. “What about it, Alex?” she hissed.
He ran his hands through his hair, looking rather vulnerable. “We used to go there a fair bit when we were kids. Your mom would take us up there from time to time. There was such a huge yard, and we would run all over playing hide-and-seek.”
“Why did we go there, Alex? Who lived there?” she asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.
He took a deep breath. “Your grandparents live there.”
Olivia let out a small cry. “Live?” Her lower lip trembled. “As in present tense?”
“Yes,” he answered quietly. “Harris House. Your mother’s maiden name was Harris.” He hoped that maybe if he started to slowly feed her information about her past, she would forget about wanting to know what Mark Kiddish was after.
As she took in what he was saying, a hurt look spread across her face. She seethed with anger when she realized that he was keeping so much information from her. She had a family that she didn’t even know about, but he knew. She spun on her heels, needing to get up on stage to start their performance.
“Olivia, love!” Alexander cried out. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
She refused to turn around, instead walking onto the stage, sitting down at the piano.
“Hey, Livvy,” Mo greeted her as he strapped on his guitar. “Everything okay?” He nodded to where Alexander was standing, imploring her with his eyes.