No More Secrets

by Jennifer Harvey

Genres: Women's Fiction; Suspense

Synopsis

No-one confesses to a murder they didn’t commit, do they? I haven’t seen my brother for twenty years. Not since he killed the man I loved. Now he’s back. I have imagined this scene a million times. What would he say to me? But nothing could prepare me for this. What he’s saying is impossible: “I didn’t do it.” He must be lying. Who confesses to a murder they didn’t commit? Everyone in our town wants him gone. Everyone’s scared of him. Even me. But maybe one of them is more scared of being found out… And when I see something in his eyes that reminds me of everything we used to be, I realise I need to know the truth. No matter what it costs me. No matter who wants to keep it hidden… A dark, emotional story of a family left shattered by the legacy of a terrible crime and the question of how well we truly know the ones we love. Fans of Catherine McKenzie and Tracy Buchanan will be totally gripped by this haunting and compelling read. What readers are saying about No More Secrets: “A real heart-wrenching read… If you love an emotional mystery with family tensions, then No More Secrets is not a book to miss! ” NetGalley Reviewer “I found myself holding my breath, turning the pages eager to find out what happened… I found this book hard to put down and would highly recommend.” Goodreads Reviewer “ What a great read! I finished it in one day!… An ending you don't expect. Highly recommend.” NetGalley Reviewer “ The pages turn fast, I wanted to know the truth… I did not see that ending coming at all. Don't miss this thriller.” Goodreads Reviewer

Release date: October 21, 2020

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 304

Sample

For the first couple of days, Evie thought nothing of it. She was used to him disappearing without warning or explanation. If she were being honest, she would even admit she enjoyed his absence. It was a relief not to have him around sometimes.

At least she’d seen it coming this time, had noticed the familiar descent into silence, the glazing over of his eyes. He was away again and there was no point in asking what was troubling him, he would never tell her. All she could do was wait for it to pass.

When he’d been gone three days, she texted him just to be sure—Dad, where are you?—and got no reply, but again, she didn’t think too much about it. In a dark mood, his need for solitude could keep him away for days, and even when he returned, all she ever received was a grunt or a nod, by way of a reply, when she asked if he was okay.

It was only when she went around to his house that she started to worry. His cell phone was sitting on the table by the front door, the battery empty, so it had switched itself off. Even in the darkest of moods, he never left home without it. She felt the first trace of panic then because wherever he was, she’d not be able to contact him. When she checked the closet in the hall, and saw his overnight bag was still there, she was relieved; he always took it when he went away some place, so he couldn’t have gone far.

Then he must be painting, she thought. Absorbed in some project and unaware that he hadn’t seen anyone in days. But his studio was empty, and the painting he was working on was half-finished in its easel, the brushstrokes rough and unworked; the image too abstract and too unfinished to make any sense of it.

The scene left her with the impression that he could have left just moments before. Gone out to pick up a new tool, or paint color he decided was needed. The work stopped midway. It had that feel about it. Of something having been interrupted.

She asked around in town, at the post office and the grocery store. Had they seen him? But no one had.

“Has he wandered off again?” Donna asked her when she unloaded her groceries onto the counter. She’d been surprised at the question, by the “again”; though it shouldn’t have surprised her. In a town this size, there wasn’t much you could keep to yourself. Everyone knew her story, just as everyone knew her father was “never the same after all that business with Ethan.”

“He’ll be back when he’s ready, I guess,” she told Donna. And they both smiled and laughed, her father’s disappearance just a quirky personality trait, as if it was understandable, endearing even, that he sometimes needed to take off without warning, and with no thought for other people.

But as the days went by, the worry became too great, and she picked up the phone and called Ryan at the police station, but he had the same reaction as Donna.

“He’ll just be off somewhere, you know how he is,” he told her.

Even when she mentioned the cell phone and the bag and explained that it wasn’t like her father to go off without them, Ryan’s concern was still muted.

“Okay, I tell you what. If he doesn’t get in touch or turn up, call back in a couple of days.” But she could tell from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t expecting her to call.

So she had waited—just a day—then walked down to the station and insisted it was different this time. She could feel it. Though she didn’t tell Ryan she’d been staring up at Mount Saxon, feeling the certainty take hold of her. He’s up there, she thought, I know he is.

Though she tried to push it away, the certainty could not be shaken off so easily; he was dead and had been for days now. When they went up that mountainside it would be to retrieve a body, not to rescue a man.

No one questioned her when she suggested they head to Mount Saxon. “He sometimes takes a walk around there,” she explained. “He says it keeps him fit in his old age.”

And so, a small group of them, herself, Ryan, and some men from the town, had pulled on jackets and boots and headed up the trail in the early morning, just as the first blush of light brushed the mountainside.

It was cold still, crispy cold, and she listened to the sound of the frost underfoot as they walked, first across the grassy path then a long stretch through the dense pines, up to the rocky gravel road, before finally hitting the first snow as they gained altitude.

None of them spoke much. Just the guys up front chatting, then falling silent as the climb became steeper and the cold seeped into them.

But she could feel their nervousness and a tingle of intuition charged the air. She wasn’t the only one who sensed Andrew was gone.

As they approached the first waypoint on the trail, Ryan stopped and waited for her to catch up with him.

“Listen, Evie,” he said to her. “Are you sure you want to be out here with us?”

“You mean, if we find him, do I want to see it?”

He shuffled his feet and looked away, out over the lake and the valley, as if he needed to take in the scenery in order to work up the courage to reply.

“I guess that’s what I mean, yes.”

“I just need to know he’s been found,” she told him. “If I know that, I can walk back down without seeing him.”

But before they could turn and walk on, one of the men shouted out, “He’s here! He’s here!”

Ryan reached out to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, as much to comfort her as to keep her from walking further. She wanted to lean on him; to let her head nestle in the folds of his jacket and feel protected.

It took only a few minutes for them to confirm he was dead. The unresponsive shape, crumpled in the rockfall at the base of a ledge, was something they’d witnessed before. The contorted shape of a faller, always the same, it seemed. Broken, bent, and silent.

She had done as she promised, nodded silently to Ryan and made her way back down, focusing on the sound of each step as she went, the initial scramble and scratch on the rocks becoming the hollow thud of feet meeting solid earth as she neared the bottom. Before she reached the road, she heard the whump of a helicopter making its way toward the summit. The rescue team come to recover her father, or what was left of him.

She stood and watched as it flew overhead and then out of sight, landing someplace over the ridge, just out of view, before she headed back home where she crawled into bed and tried to hide from the day, from the world, from the pain.

When the doorbell rang, her instinct was to turn over and pull the covers up. Just wait until whoever it was went away. But they were persistent, and after a minute or so she heard Ashley calling out to her.

“Evie! Evie, are you okay?”

She would have to get up. Ashley knew she was at home, and she wouldn’t leave until Evie let her inside.

“I know it’s early,” she said when Evie opened the door. “But when I heard what happened, I had to come over immediately. My God, are you all right?”

She was barely over the threshold when she pulled Evie to her in a firm embrace, and Evie could only stand there, limp and disoriented. There was a weight in her muscles that felt like flu, a heaviness that made movement difficult. Then she remembered: her father was dead. And she slumped a little deeper into Ashley’s shoulder and allowed herself a moment of comfort.

When Ashley finally let go of her, they walked to the kitchen and Evie pulled up a chair at the table and sat there while Ashley took control.

“I’ll make you some coffee,” she said. “Have you eaten anything? You need to keep your strength up after a shock like that.”

“I’m fine, Ashley,” Evie replied. “Honestly, you don’t need to go to any trouble.”

“Hey, it’s no trouble. It’s what friends are for, isn’t it, helping out in a crisis?”

“It’s not a crisis. I’m just tired is all. I didn’t sleep so well.”

“I can imagine, I mean…”

She was glad Ashley couldn’t bring herself to mention what had happened to Andrew. It helped a little, to know her grief and pain were shared and understood.

It had been a mistake not to see him. All night she had lain awake imagining him crumpled and broken on the mountainside. With every hour, his body seemed to contort into bloodier and ever more distorted forms. And the nightmare vision of him was still in the back of her mind as she tried to adjust to her first day without him.

“Would you like me to make breakfast?” Ashley asked.

“No, coffee’s fine. Please, Ashley, don’t fuss. I’m okay. I just need to take it all in.”

But Ashley ignored her and set about preparing granola with fruit and yogurt. Ordinarily, Evie would have stopped her from taking over, but today she let herself be distracted by Ashley’s busy efforts.

“Here you go,” Ashley said as she placed cups of coffee and bowls of granola on the table for them both. The sight of them was more comforting than Evie anticipated, and she allowed herself a small smile of gratitude.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem,” Ashley replied, and sipped her coffee before continuing, “So tell me, what happened?”

“I don’t know. They think he slipped and fell. There was a lot of ice up there.”

“Oh God, poor Andrew,” Ashley said. “What was he doing up there by himself, and at this time of year? That trail is so dangerous when it’s icy, he must have known that.”

“I’m sure he did, but he went up there all the time. He knew that trail better than anyone. I still can’t believe he fell. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, these things happen…”

“I guess, I just never thought it would happen to him. He could have walked it with his eyes closed. How…?”

“Don’t torture yourself worrying about it, Evie. No good will come of it.”

“I know, I just don’t want to think about him up there alone, that his last minutes were…” But she couldn’t finish. Imagining, even for one second, that her father had suffered, was too much for her.

“Have you spoken to your mom yet?”

“No, not yet. As soon as I came home yesterday after we found him, I collapsed. I think I’ve been asleep since seven o’clock last night.”

“Would you like me to call her?”

Evie thought about it. It would be the easy option. The cowardly option. But she couldn’t let her mother hear news like this from someone else. And besides, she would only be putting off the inevitable. As soon as her mom heard what had happened, she’d come over from Boulder and Evie would have to face her.

“No, I’ll call her later. Maybe the police have already told her. I don’t know. But she should hear it from me, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess. If you’re okay with it. So what happens now?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t take it in. Ryan said something about them having to confirm it was an accident before they can release the body. He said he’d let me know. But it should only take a few days apparently.”

“Why would they think it was anything other than an accident?”

“I don’t think they do, it’s just a formality.”

Ashley nodded. “So, when will you have the funeral? I can help, I can call the mortician if you like?”

Evie hadn’t even thought of that. Her father’s funeral. The very idea of it made her want to crawl back to bed and tell the world to carry on without her.

“Let’s just wait until Ryan calls, I really don’t know what’s going on.”

“Okay, but let me help you, Evie. Please?”

“Okay.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, drinking their coffee, but she could see that Ashley was fidgety and wanted to say something. She didn’t need to guess what it was: Ethan.

She wasn’t sure she had the energy to talk about him yet, but Ashley gave her no choice.

“Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but I suppose your brother will be coming home for the funeral?”

“I guess so,” Evie replied. What else was there to say?

“Is that why you haven’t called your mom yet? Are you afraid she’d tell Ethan what happened, and bring him back here?”

“To be honest,” she said, “I can’t even think about Ethan coming back here. It’s all too much right now. I mean what am I supposed to say to him?”

“So what are you going to do, ignore him? He is your brother after all.”

The question confused her. What could she do? Not tell her mom the news, or forbid her from bringing Ethan with her? Andrew was his father too. He had a right to attend his own father’s funeral if he wanted to.

“I can’t really do anything, can I?” Evie replied. “If he wants to come here then I can’t stop him. Like you say, he’s my brother—he has as much of a right to say his goodbyes as I do. Anyway, maybe he won’t want to come back. I think he knows his presence wouldn’t be appreciated.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it. But sure, maybe he won’t come. We can always hope,”

Ordinarily it was the sort of quip that would make her laugh, Ashley’s sharp sense of humor something she appreciated. But today she could only tilt her head and raise her eyebrows.

“What? I’m only saying what you’re thinking. Evie, I know you don’t want him here either, so why pretend?”

She wondered if that was true though. She didn’t want to face things alone, she was sure of that much at least. But she hadn’t had the opportunity yet to think about her brother or her mom coming home.

“Listen I’m not going to stop him coming here if that’s what he decides. Anyway, please can we stop talking about it? My dad just died and that’s all I can deal with right now. Ethan, my mom, all that stuff… it can wait.”

“Evie, you know everyone here is going to have an opinion about it. No one has forgotten what he did, and they’ll never forgive him for it or accept him back.”

“Not even for his father’s funeral? No one’s asking for forgiveness, but some compassion isn’t too much to ask for, is it?”

She was expecting Ashley to look away, to feel a little ashamed at her lack of understanding, but when it came to Ethan, she had clearly underestimated the strength of Ashley’s feelings, even after all this time.

“Just don’t be surprised if people speak out if he does come back, that’s all I’m saying. Be prepared for it.”

“Dammit, Ashley. Then maybe they should all just keep their opinions to themselves. If he comes home, we’ll deal with it. He’ll be here and gone in a day. What harm will that do?”

“People have long memories, Evie. No one wants to be reminded of what he did, but if he comes back, they’ll be forced to face it all again and—”

“Do you think I want to remember any of it?”

“No, of course not, I know you don’t but—”

“Ashley, I’ve spent the last twenty years trying to put it all behind me, just talking about it again makes me—” But she couldn’t finish what she wanted to say. She had no way of articulating what she felt. The fear, the old panic, all those feelings she had thought would never return.

“Listen,” she heard Ashley saying, “maybe someone should talk to him, give him a call, tell him he won’t be welcome…”

She was trying to sound reasonable, Evie realized. But the threat in those words was evident. Not welcome. Ethan didn’t need someone to call him and tell him that. Twenty years ago, he knew what everyone here thought of him, and now, he still would. There were people who thought he should spend the rest of his life in prison. Or worse.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Evie replied.

Ashley leaned forward as if to make her point clearly. “All I’m saying is that maybe it would be better if he stayed away, for everyone. For you. Even if it is his dad’s funeral, that doesn’t give him the right—”

Ashley was trying hard to keep her tone reasonable, but Evie still caught the touch of irritation in her voice. She was determined to make her point. But there was no point in arguing—Ashley was not the type of person to back down easily—so Evie raised her palms. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

“So I’ll get Mason to give him a call then?”

“What?”

“Ethan. I’ll get Mason to have a word with him.”

She couldn’t believe that Ashley seriously thought Mason should be the one to call. And she almost laughed at the suggestion because it was so preposterous.

“Listen, Ashley, can you just leave me alone for a while? I need to call my mom and I need to take a shower and I really need to get my head straight. What happened twenty years ago, I just… Just leave it for now, please?”

“Okay. For now. But this is what he’s going to stir up if he comes back, Evie, all that viciousness and anger, and I just want to know you’re prepared for it.”

“I know. Do you seriously think I don’t know that?”

“Right, well, I guess I should get going.”

Ashley left her sitting in the kitchen, the day not quite bright yet and the bitter taste of coffee coating her tongue and leaving her nauseous.

All that viciousness and anger, Evie thought. The very idea that even a small flicker of it would be reignited was enough to make her feel sick.

She could still remember the number after all this time. When she heard her mom say “hello” at the end of the line, she hesitated before saying, “It’s me, Evie,” her voice shaking a little.

“Evie! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, but there’s been an accident. It’s Dad. He’s gone.”

If her mom heard the panic in Evie’s voice as she announced the news, then she didn’t acknowledge it. Just as Evie didn’t acknowledge the little sigh her mom exhaled down the line, and the trace of disinterest it contained.

“Do you want me to drive over?” her mom asked.

“Could you? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do…”

“Okay, I’ll get an early start tomorrow and be with you for breakfast.”

Evie was relieved to hear a hint of compassion in her mom’s voice and she felt the tension in her neck and shoulders ease. “Thanks, Mom,” she replied.

“Right, well then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and Evie?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry, everything will be okay.”

Evie put down the receiver and stood in the hallway for a while, immobilized by the conversation. Everything will be okay. How certain her mother always was about things.

But nothing would be okay. She could feel it in every fiber of her body. Something was headed her way. Her dad’s death was not the end of it—it was just the beginning.

And she closed her eyes and clenched her fists, bracing herself.

“Okay,” she whispered, “I’m ready.”

She chose to ignore the whispered reply that seemed to come from the mountain. That old, familiar voice.

Are you, Evie? Are you ready?

Carole stood by the kitchen window, looking out over the lake. From the tilt of her head, Evie could see she was looking toward the mountains, and thinking about Andrew. Her mom gave a small shudder, then turned and approached the table where Evie sat drinking a cup of coffee. Without asking, Evie stood up, walked over to the coffee pot and poured her mom a cup, dribbling in a small amount of milk, then dropping in one cube of sugar, and set the coffee down on the table.

Her mom smiled as she lifted the cup to her lips and sipped. “Just as I like it. It’s nice that you remember such a small detail. It makes this place feel like home again.”

As Evie sat opposite her mom, she thought back to the last time they had been in the kitchen together like this. It was the day her mom had left for Boulder, about a year after the trial. Evie remembered her face, the way she had begged her one last time, “Come with me, Evie,” and the sad resignation in her eyes when Evie had again said no.

It was still there, that distant look, as if the expression had fixed itself in place. The shock of the rejection had never really left her, and Evie wondered if her mother realized how distant it made her look, staring at the world with that world-weary stoicism.

But if her mom was aware of how nervous it made Evie to have her sitting in her kitchen drinking coffee after all these years, then she showed no sign of it. If anyone were to walk past the window and see them sitting together, they’d assume they were enjoying an everyday family breakfast, mom and daughter comfortable together in each other’s presence.

But Evie had long ago learned how to mimic the inscrutable gaze her mother possessed, and she soon fell back into that habit of hiding her own feelings from the one person she should have been able to confide in.

“It must be hard for you too, I guess,” Evie said, “to be back here now Dad’s gone, I mean.”

“It is…” her mom replied. “And knowing that he died alone up there, the thought of that…” She paused, as if she needed to check her emotions before she could continue.

Evie wondered if she should comfort her in some way, but she felt paralyzed as to how.

“It’s not just his death,” her mom continued. “It’s everything else too. The past. It’s not easy being back here. I had good reasons for leaving after all…”

Her voice trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish what she was saying. Evie knew what her mother was thinking without her having to say it out loud. The memories. All that trauma and sadness. The way their once happy family had disintegrated. And the one thing they hadn’t mentioned yet: Ethan.

Neither of them had spoken of him or even dared to say his name.

“Would it help if I said there were happy days as well, back then, in the past?” Evie asked.

“Were there? I seem to have forgotten.”

“Yes. Before everything. Before, well, you know… We laughed a lot. Don’t you remember?”

She could see her mom pause as she tried to remember the happier times as a family, the sounds of them together as a family, laughing, joking, teasing each other.

Typical, Evie thought, never remembering the good things. Forgetting how much laughter filled the house, accompanying so many small, insignificant moments.

She could think of a hundred happy moments off the top of her head. Pulling a fish from the lake and cooking it on an open fire by the shore. Hiking to the top of Mount Saxon in summer. Her father teaching her how to paint the wildflowers in spring. They had enjoyed every one of these things. And so many more. Why could her mom never give herself over to remembering small moments like this?

After a minute or so, her mom shook her head. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” she said. “You can remember someone’s face, the way they stood or walked. But the sound of them? Their voice, the way they laughed. I tried to recall your dad’s laugh just then, but I couldn’t. How can that be?”

Evie tried herself. She assumed she could conjure up the sound of her dad’s laughter at will. But nothing came. Her mom was right, the sound of him was gone. A significant, yet intangible piece of him had evaporated before she’d had a chance to lock it away safely in her mind. And she felt the jolt of grief rush over her again.

To Evie’s surprise, Carole sensed it, and stretching an arm across the table, she took h. . .