Chapter 21

Tara

 

 

Time has a way of making fools of us all. We believe any lie handed to us if it stands the test of time.

Just as time tricked us, secrets poisoned us. I could feel the toxins slowly coursing through my relationships, killing us. Me and Chris. Me and Ginger. Secrets choked out the good, leaving nothing but thorny weeds. As I kept trying to pull up the lies, I only unearthed more and more to the point where I didn’t know where our story started or where it would end. All I knew was that my best friend was dangerous, and the depths of her secrets were deeper than anyone could imagine.

And telling Chris what I had found out would either destroy him or explain everything.

“You’re scaring me,” Chris said, breaking through my thoughts. “Tell me what’s going on. What do you want to tell me that’s going to destroy me?”

There was so much I didn’t know, so much that I was still piecing together. So I started to unroll the facts from the very beginning.

“Your parents told you that you were adopted, right?”

“Yes, from the Loving Arms Children’s Home as a baby.”

“Did they ever tell you who your biological mother was?”

“No. When I asked, they told me it was a closed adoption, so they never found out who my biological parents were. Why?”

I could barely think it, let alone speak it. If it was true, then it made me question everything for the past sixteen years.

“Because I think Ginger is your biological mother…and I don’t think you were adopted, Chris. I think you were abducted by your parents.”

Chris bolted out of his seat, slamming his palms on the table. The clear partition rattled. “What? No, that’s crazy. My parents were not kidnappers.”

I held up a calming hand, then glanced at the guard who was intently watching us. Chris followed my gaze and sat.

“Did you ever see the adoption paperwork?” My voice was gentle, leading. I needed him to listen.

“I didn’t ever ask to. Besides, my dad was a mayor in the public spotlight. He wouldn’t have been able to get away with kidnapping me and hiding it from everyone. Someone would have figured it out.”

“Just hear me out. Back when I first met Ginger after she moved in next door, she told me about her son who was abducted while they were on the beach. Cole was his name. So first of all, Cole is pretty similar to Chris. Coincidence? Maybe. But then I found a letter from Ginger to her missing son that mentioned how he was with the Bloodsons—your parents, before they changed their last name to Christie. Did they ever tell you why they changed their last name to your mom’s maiden name?”

“Yeah, they said it was because someone was stalking them and they wanted a fresh start out of the public eye. Plus, the Bloodson name carried so much bad history. While I hated being compared to that politician, it wasn’t as bad as the torment I got for being a Bloodson.”

Having the name Chris Christie had provoked some corny jokes, but after the New Jersey governor with the same name started making headlines for various scandals, Chris eventually came to resent the name.

“That stalker your parents were referring to was Ginger. I saw the restraining order with your dad’s name on it. And what’s worse is that I think she was trying so hard to get back into your life that…she killed your parents.”

Chris shoved the chair back, the feet shrieking against the tile. “They slid off the road during a storm. How could she have orchestrated a weather-related car accident?”

“The brake lines were leaking, Chris. I read it in the newspaper…which I found in Ginger’s stuff. You don’t think it was possible Ginger tampered with their brakes, plotting to get rid of them so she could get to you?”

“I was an adult when they died. She could have easily approached me herself without taking out my parents.”

“Murderers aren’t exactly rational. Besides, I have proof that she’s dangerous. Dangerous enough to kill your parents, and dangerous enough to kill Benson. They took her life, so she took theirs.”

Just like the news headline about the grandmother who killed her grandson over forcing her into that nursing home.

“I’m going to tell the cops what I did and everything I know. Because clearly you won’t, so I’ll have to do it for you.”

Chris leaned forward, resting his hand on the divider. “Wait. Before you start telling the cops all of this, I already knew about the assisted living threat. Ginger told me all about it. That’s why she transferred the registration of the gun over to me so that Benson wouldn’t try to sell it. He had been selling off everything of value, but that gun has been an heirloom for generations and she wanted to keep it in the family.”

“She told you she was your bio mom?”

“Not exactly, but I kind of already had a suspicion.”

My mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. This must have been an earth-shattering revelation, and my husband never told me? Chris must have detected my distress, because he hurried to defend himself.

“I wasn’t totally certain, but now I am after you told me all this. But you can’t tell anyone, please. Especially not my sister. I don’t want Peace finding out this way, not until I can talk to her in person.”

By now I had somewhat recovered, enough to find my voice at least. “If you don’t come clean about all of this, you’ll never get that chance. You need to expose all of this if you want out of here!”

If Chris had known about his connection to Ginger all this time, did Peace find out? Would she have had anything to do with Benson’s murder in an effort to protect Ginger? There were so many lies floating around, I didn’t know who to trust anymore.

“So where’s the gun now?” I asked. “Did you use it that night?”

Chris remained exasperatingly quiet. I realized why as a shadow paused over my shoulder. The guard had returned, her attention fully on us.

“Time’s up, Christie.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chris said, inching his way to his feet.

An urgent question skipped into my head. I bowed forward, needing one last answer. “You said you had suspected Ginger was your bio mom. How’d you know?”

Chris considered my question for a moment, then said, “Go to the horse rescue, and head into the barn where we keep the horse feed.”

“The barn?” I thought aloud.

“I was a kid when I hid it. It was the only place I had access to, and I hadn’t thought it through back then.”

The guard circled around the table, grabbing Chris’s arm, but Chris continued talking, “Along the wall behind the grain bin you’ll see a square where the wall is cut out and a piece of wood is propped in place.”

By now the guard had dragged him almost toward the door as I frantically followed from the other side of the table. “Pull out the wood and you’ll find all your answers inside.”