After Detective Meltzer left, Lane headed to the police station to deal with my mother’s arrest while I waited at home until it was time to pick up the kids from school. As much as I wanted to support Mom, I couldn’t go down to the station again. It was the last place I wanted to be, facing my likely fate behind bars. I had dealt with enough police and attorneys in the past year; it was time for Lane to take the reins.
Instead, I hid in my bedroom to shove my face in my pillow and ugly cry. The stress was getting to me, and I was one bad moment away from a nervous breakdown. It was only a matter of time before they hauled me in, but for murder, not tampering with evidence. I had no way to prove my innocence, because my “alibi” mother was now being arrested for murder also. I knew I hadn’t murdered Ben. And I knew my mother had no reason to kill Michelle Hudson. So who did?
With the tears exhausted—for the time being—I got up and straightened the bed. Cleaning helped clear out my thoughts. The detective didn’t seem to know much about Medea Kent, other than coming across her name when looking into Ben’s financials, but it was odd that he didn’t mention anything more about her. Like how she was a skank home-wrecking whore. During the investigation he had pulled our cell phone records, credit card statements, everything. How could he not know about the affair? Unless he knew but wasn’t telling me. After all, as Lane put it, he had no desire to give information to me, only to pull information from me.
Hoisting a box from my closet, I rummaged through it until I found what I was looking for. Ben’s work cell phone. The police hadn’t taken it for some reason.
It made sense that he used it to hide his calls from me. I pressed the power button, but the battery had long ago died. My cell phone charger wouldn’t fit, and I didn’t remember finding a charger with it. It was probably at the office, which had shut down two months ago. There was nothing more I could do, so I returned the phone to the box and shoved it inside the closet. I didn’t know what I had hoped to find amid Ben’s old texts to Medea. Anything that would free me from suspicion, I guess.
I stood in my sparse bedroom, worried and confused and terrified. The scrap of paper Medea’s address was on teetered on the edge of my dresser. I’d spent the past two months running, which was getting me nowhere. It was time for a new approach. There was only one way to face a problem, and that was head-on.
* * *
3 Summer Lane led me to a run-down house in an even more run-down neighborhood. The two-story brick home could have been semidecent, if not for the mountainous pile of trash next to it, or the tires with dog fennel weeds growing up through them scattered throughout the yard. A row of rusted propane canisters sat at the foot of their personal landfill mountain, where everything from clothes, to shoes, to car parts, to household garbage climbed a story high.
I knocked, wondering how anyone lived like this. As I raised my fist to knock again, the rusty squeal of the doorknob turning stopped me. When a brown-haired woman with a plain face, about my age, answered the door, I didn’t know who I was looking at. She didn’t look anything like the blond bombshell I had seen with Ben at the hotel.
“Medea Kent?” I asked, expecting a yes.
Instead I got “What do you want with my daughter?”
Medea was this woman’s daughter? How perverted was Ben? If she was my age, her daughter couldn’t have been much older than eighteen or nineteen. A child!
“I’m sorry, I don’t even know where to start.” My brain was idling. I couldn’t bring myself to tell this woman her daughter had been sleeping with my husband. “Do you have a minute?”
“What’s this about? Did Medea get into some kind of trouble?”
“No, well, I don’t know. Can we talk?”
“I suppose.” She eyed me warily. “My husband is inside sleeping—he works nights,” she added, as if I required an explanation, “so we should probably speak out here.”
She gestured to two green-painted metal rocking chairs at the end of the porch, the kind my grandmother had spent many years sitting on watching the street like it was her post. These would have been considered vintage if they weren’t rusting through. Plastic pots lined the railing, full of dry, cracked dirt and crunchy brown leaves. A black cat hopped down from the chair as I approached. I sat, and—I realized I hadn’t gotten her name yet—the woman sat catty-corner to me.
“I’m sorry to show up like this, but my name is Harper Paris, and I believe my husband, Benjamin Paris, knew your daughter.”
I didn’t know why I was here anymore. I didn’t know what I was here to find out.
“Benjamin Paris? I never thought I’d hear that name again.”
“You know Ben? Well, knew him. He passed away two months ago.”
Her hand flew to her heart as she gasped. “No! Benny died? He was so young—not even forty yet, right?”
Benny? I’d never known anyone to call him Benny. It sounded foreign to me. “How did you know Ben?”
“Oh, gosh, that was a lifetime ago. Benny and I dated in college, right before you came along, actually. He broke up with me for you, you know. You were something special to him.”
“Really?” I realized then that I had no idea who this woman was. Certainly not the villain I came for. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
“Natalie. Natalie Simmons, but Benny knew me as Natalie Kent.”
The black cat jumped up on my lap, purring as it settled into a fat, fluffy ball. I ran my hands down its silky back.
“Styx likes you.” Natalie grinned. She was pretty in a classic way. “So apparently you found out about Medea. I’m her mother. I guess Benny told you everything?”
I had no idea what Ben should have told me. “No, actually, Medea is listed as a beneficiary in Ben’s life insurance policy. I have no idea who she is, or why her name is on there.”
“Oh.” Natalie shifted stiffly, and she glanced away. Her fingers tapped a metallic beat on the arm of the chair. “Well, I suppose you should know the whole truth. Medea is Benny’s daughter. He got me pregnant right before he met you, and when he wanted to break up, I told him about the baby. But I didn’t feel it was fair to either of us to yoke him to me and a child that he didn’t want. So I gave him an out and he took it.”
Ben had another child? My heart felt like it was ripping apart. Not only did he have an affair, but he had managed to hide a whole other family. He made a bastard out of an innocent child. This didn’t align with the man I knew, a father who so tenderly hugged his kids every night before bed, who propped them on his shoulders for chicken fights in the pool, who kissed their boo-boos.
My breath shook as I tried to speak. “I’m sorry he did that to you and Medea. I didn’t know—”
“Don’t apologize. He’s financially supported Medea for the past seventeen years, sending her money every month without fail. When the last two payments didn’t arrive, I admit I was a little confused, but I never contacted him about it. I figured he had given enough. He always made sure Medea was provided for. It was his way of accepting responsibility, I guess.”
“Does Medea know he was her father?”
“Yeah, she’s aware. In fact, Benny was the one who named her when I found out it was a girl.”
How could he have not mentioned this to me when we were dating? The deceit had started from the very beginning. It was heartbreaking to discover my whole relationship was built on lies.
“I wasn’t fond of the name Medea at first, until he told me the significance of it,” Natalie continued.
“Oh really? What was the meaning behind her name?”
Natalie smiled, taking years off her face. “Medea was a figure in Greek mythology. She was married to Jason, they even had kids together, until one day Jason renounced her. He said she was no longer his wife and instead he wanted to marry the king’s daughter.”
The similarities were eerie. It sounded a lot like mine and Ben and Natalie’s triangle.
“I know what you’re thinking, and yes, that probably reflected Benny’s own choices, which was why he suggested the name. Anyway, in an act of vengeance, Medea killed all of their children and flew away. Luckily, none of our children were killed as they were in the myth”—she chuckled at that—“but there are definitely some interesting connections there.”
But one of our children had been killed, and now I couldn’t help but wonder if Ben’s betrayal had played a part in Kira’s tragedy. Was it Fate’s punishment for what Ben did to Natalie? Did this story intersect more with our life than I knew?
“Well.” Natalie slapped her knee as she rose to her feet. “Medea had hoped to reach out to Benny when she turned eighteen, but I guess that won’t happen now. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. Benny was a great guy, and crazy about you.”
Tears tickled the corners of my eyes. Yes, yes, he was—during the highs of our marriage, at least. And while he hadn’t been truthful with me about a lot of things, at least he cared enough about his daughter to ensure she was taken care of. I had always seen the goodness in his heart; I hated that a few bad choices had soured a lifetime of love. Maybe focusing on the fact that Ben cared so deeply about his children could help me reconcile the liar and the lover.
“Yes, he was one of the good ones.”
I rose to my feet, thanking her for her time. I felt bad for what Ben had done to me, but worse for what he had done to Natalie and Medea. He had betrayed me after years of loyal love, but he had completely neglected her from the beginning, leaving his pregnant girlfriend, then never even setting eyes on his own child. There was no way to make up for it now.
“Before you go”—Natalie’s voice halted with hesitation—“you mentioned something about a life insurance policy?”
Or maybe there was a way to make up for it, to the tune of $1.5 million.