When Laura turned back, Gloria stood on shaky legs and said, ‘Tell me what’s going on, Laura. Please.’

Laura moved across the room, her fingers rubbing against her palms. ‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you everything I know.’

30

The bitter cold slit through the night like a sharpened razor, but Mark did not really notice. He stood in the present yet his mind was somewhere in the past, untouched by the icy surroundings and frosty blasts. He flashed back to June 17, to their honeymoon in Australia. He smiled sadly. How perfect life had been on that day.

And how quickly it had changed.

He could still hear the phone ringing in their suite, could still remember picking it up, could still remember the panic in Mary’s voice.

‘I have to see you, David. I have to speak to you right away.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m in Cairns. The Pacific International Hotel. Room 607. Come right away.’

More confused than frightened he agreed to go. He left a fun note for Laura with the receptionist, walked down the dirt path to the main road, hailed a cab (the only car on the road) and headed into the city of Cairns.

He stood by the Charles River now, half a globe and a full lifetime away from the warmth and joy of his honeymoon bliss. Had he known back then what was about to happen to him? Had Mary given him any clue? No, not really. There was just a slight trembling in his heart, a faint stab of fear in his chest. But David had no way of knowing that the taxi was taking him from Heaven to Hades, that he was heading into an emotional ambush without a single weapon of defense. The familiar pain rushed through him as he remembered hearing the awful truth.

‘I don’t care if it’s a sin. I love your daughter.’

‘You can’t mean that. Laura is not just my daughter, David. She’s your sister. Think about her for a moment. She’s always wanted to have children, a family. You can’t give her those things.’

Because of his father. Damn him, that callous son of a bitch. David had been an infant when Sinclair Baskin killed himself. He did not remember his father at all, not even a blurry image of what he might have been like. He had spent much of his childhood wondering what sort of man his father had been, what had driven him to kill himself, what kind of a man could pull a trigger and leave his wife and two small children to fend for themselves. Now maybe he knew.

Sinclair Baskin. His father. He had been dead for as long as Mark could remember and yet he had managed to reach from beyond the grave and crush everything that mattered to his youngest son. His father had created Laura, and he had taken her away from him. Life’s cruel ironies.

‘Then I’ll tell her the truth.’

‘No! Please, David, I beg you. If you say something, Laura will lose a father she loves dearly and never forgive me for what I’ve done. In the end, she may be left with none of us. You have to think of what’s best for her.’

‘Then what am I supposed to do?’

‘Break it off. End it. If you love her, let her go. She will be hurt at first. Devastated even. But you’ll be surprised how resilient the heart is.’

But even then, David had known that he could not just hurt her and walk away. He would never be able to tell Laura that he no longer loved her, that his love for her had died. His heart wanted so much to ignore the frightening reality of his situation, to deafen his ears to everything he had heard. But he also knew that Mary’s words were true. What choice did he have? All their dreams of a family and life together had been trampled to death by the heavy boot of past sins. They could no longer stay together. Telling Laura the truth would not change that fact. It would only hurt her father and tear her away from her family. He would have to leave her. He would have to turn his back on the only thing in life that truly meant anything to him.

But how could he do it? How could he tell Laura that his love for her had withered away and died? How could he say that the love they shared had been a lie after Laura had risked everything and given him all that she had?

Better, he decided then, to have love ripped away from you than to think it had never been more than a deception. Better to have lost love in a tragedy than to be told it had never really been.

A plan began to form in his mind.

Completely numb, David walked out of room 607, took an elevator to the lobby, and called T. C.

‘She’ll call you first.’

‘What about her father?’ T.C. asked. ‘Or her sister?’

‘She won’t want to worry them yet. She’ll figure you’ll know what to do.’

‘Okay. Now call your bank as soon as we hang up. Then stay hidden till I get there. I’ll take care of the rest.’

David Baskin died that day. And Mark Seidman was born.

Back in the present, Mark turned away from the Charles River and headed up the embankment. His face was red from the cold, his breath coming in frigid gusts.

It was time to go home.

Estelle stepped through the door. She had moved the contents of the safety deposit box into a large manila envelope during the flight home and now she handed them to Laura.

‘The key opened your aunt’s safety deposit box at the First National Bank in Hamilton,’ she told her.

‘Thanks, Estelle.’

‘No problem, boss. You need me for anything else?’

Laura shook her head. ‘I’ll see you on Monday. Thanks again.’

‘Bye.’

Laura closed the door and moved back toward the couch.

‘So what are we looking for?’ Gloria asked.

‘I don’t know exactly,’ Laura admitted. ‘I guess it will have something to do with Sinclair Baskin. It may be nothing but more old photographs.’

‘Let’s get to it.’

‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’

‘Positive.’

Laura took hold of the letter opener and slit the envelope at the belly. The contents fell to the cushions of the couch. She put down the opener and started to shuffle through the items.

‘What are all these things?’ Gloria asked.

‘Savings bonds. Mom has some too. Grandma left them to her.’

‘Laura, you don’t really think that Mom could have killed anybody, do you?’

‘I don’t know. I hope not. But then again, I never thought she would have an affair and deceive all of us.’

‘It’s all so crazy. What is going on? Why is everybody being killed?’

The diary was face down, but Laura knew what it was even before she turned it over. ‘That’s it.’

‘What?’

Laura picked it up.

Diary 1960.

Gloria inhaled sharply. ‘1960. Isn’t that the year they had the affair?’

Laura nodded. ‘This is what the murderer was trying to destroy in the fire. Judy kept all her diaries behind her desk in the study. The blaze destroyed them all.’

‘Except this one.’

‘Right.’

Laura held the old volume in her hands. She opened it up and recognized Judy’s handwriting. It had not changed much in thirty years. Some of the letters looped a little higher back then. The pen had a lighter touch against the paper. But there was no mistaking the penmanship.

Gloria moved closer. ‘Start reading, Laura.’

James grabbed an apple from the refrigerator. His wife was upstairs in bed, the lights out, her eyes open. None of them were going to get any sleep tonight, he thought. Words had been uttered that were best left unsaid. Secrets had been stirred that were best left to sleep.

He took a bite out of the apple. James was compulsive when it came to health. He allowed no cookies in his house, no cakes, no ice cream. Sherbet was okay because he felt it improved digestion. Snacks consisted of raisins, nuts, rice cakes and a variety of fresh fruits. Apples were his favorite. McIntosh.

He sat alone in the kitchen with the light off. The lamp from the hallway provided enough illumination, casting giant shadows across the spacious white kitchen. James felt cold in his pajamas and robe, cold and alone. He had worked so hard to keep his family together, to provide for them and care for them. When had it all gone wrong? When had everything that mattered to him been leveled by deceit and lies?