Chapter 10
Cynthia
Saturday 8.12pm
By the time I’ve arrived at my apartment, an audible groan slips past my lips as I see Trudy’s car parked out front.
Since I’m pretty sure this visit is going to be about the records I no longer have, I freeze and wonder if I can make a swift getaway.
But no sooner than the thought forms, Trudy’s door opens, and she steps out, beaming at me, like a complete moron.
“You forgot I was coming tonight, didn’t you?” she says.
I hide my annoyance as I fumble with my front door keys. “I didn’t forget, I was just doing something first,” I say.
She laughs and it only serves to grate on my nerves even more. “When you’re late you steal—”
I cut her off. “Other people’s time, yes I know.”
Her smile lessens as she steps a little closer and sniffs the air like a bloodhound. “Have you been drinking?”
I wave my hand in front of my face. “I had two glasses of wine with Lacey,” I fib.
Her distaste is evident as she gestures to the stairs of my apartment. “I wanted to talk to you about the fundraising records. We were supposed to have them to the accountant by tomorrow. Did you bring them home from work?”
I gulp and wish the ground would open up. “Um, no. I’m waiting on them to send it to me.”
Her brow knits under the street lamp. “That doesn’t make any sense. I thought you said you were going to get it back?”
I stare at my shoes and mumble. “I got fired. Someone complained about me.”
She doesn’t even sound surprised. “Oh, Cynthia. What did you do? Dad got you that job, he’ll be so embarrassed.”
My head snaps upwards as anger makes my cheeks heat. “I didn’t do anything. Why do people just assume when things go wrong it’s my fault?”
She sends me a pitying look. “It’s not completely undeserved. You have a long history of saying the wrong thing or acting with poor judgment.”
“When I was a teenager!” I shriek.
Her eyes widen as she looks at the closest neighbor. “This is exactly the kind of behavior I’m talking about.”
I’m so exasperated, I throw my hands up in the air. “You haven’t even given me a chance to prove I’ve grown up. You still treat me like you did when we were kids. You think I’m incapable of doing anything of any significance.”
She shakes her head and a little of her polish seems to be dimming. “Do you even hear yourself? You sound like the spoiled brat everyone thinks you are.”
I suck in a breath. “That’s why people think? That dad spoiled me?”
Trudy shrugs. “They think he indulged your bad behavior and still does.”
My eyes narrow. “They do, or you do?”
She blows out a breath. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Even if I did think that it wouldn’t change anything. He’d still hold your hand and support you.”
I’m so bewildered she thinks that, that I scowl. “I don’t need dad to support me. I can take care of myself.”
Her lips twist into a sardonic smile. “Really? Considering he got you a job and a place to live when you came back, I’d say that’s not entirely true.”
My mouth opens but nothing comes out.
Trudy’s triumph is evident as she slowly shakes her head. “I still don’t know what you thought you’d achieve by coming back here, but whatever it was, I hope it wasn’t to prove you were as independent as you think you are.”
With a caustic smile, she turns on her heel and walks away from me.
Like a sharp shock, pain spears through me as I see the truth in her words.
I left Hinton with lofty ambitions to see the world and experience it to the fullest.
Coming home was supposed to bring meaning to my life, but all it’s done is make me realize nothing has changed.
I still don’t fit in here, I’ll always be Matthew Wyatt’s rebellious daughter.
And nothing short of a miracle will ever change that.
***
Becker
Sunday 7.12am
Muscles aching from lack of sleep, and paranoia, I’m sitting in my car and hoping this isn’t going to end badly.
As if the theft wasn’t enough, Matthew is in a breakfast meeting, and Cynthia’s not answering her phone, I don’t want to show up at her apartment which leaves me with one option.
Trudy.
I climb out of my truck and hope she’s in an affable mood after our last conversation.
Trudy opens the door with a dark look on her face. She doesn’t invite me inside, just folds her arms across her chest. “This isn’t a good time. Cynthia is missing.”
Cold spreads down my spine. “What?”
Rather than concerned, she looks more than a little annoyed. “Dad just called. She didn’t show up for the morning meeting. He asked her neighbors. She’s not at home, neither is her car. Now I’m going to have to cover door duty.”
When I’m too stunned to speak, and trying not to connect my theft to Cynthia’s disappearing act, she’s already moving on.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not the first time she’s run away to avoid punishment.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me.”
Her brows join together before she seems to realize she’s not making much sense. “The fundraising records you were overseeing, she’s lost them.”
That she knows the records are missing makes me straighten. “Lost them?”
“Well, not lost exactly. But we won’t have them on time. She got fired and they were left at the—"
I hold up my hand. “Are there backup copies?”
She looks at me like I’m a moron. “Well, yes of course. I always photocopy everything. And especially since Cynthia can be, well, unreliable.”
I have to grit my teeth. “Where are they?”
“In dad’s office. I put them in his office filing cabinet, he has all the records, just in case,” she says.
I decide to ask one final question while I can. “Your father has a key to Cynthia’s apartment, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, so do I as a matter of fact. Just in case. She has a habit of misplacing things.”
Her tinkling laugh reverberates through my skull.
“She’s such a hopeless case, honestly, I don’t know how on earth she survived on her own all those years.”
I work my jaw as she smiles sweetly like she didn’t just tear her sister down for no good reason other than jealousy.
Since she’s given me what I needed, and I’m sick of her bullshit, I plaster a smile on to match hers.
“But you don’t know, do you? For all you know Cynthia could have been thriving. Maybe coming back to this self-righteous shithole has been detrimental to her health? God knows it is to mine.”
Her mouth widens, and her cheeks heat before she slams the door in my face.
***
Cynthia
I glance at the phone Becker gave me, and grimace at the amount of missed calls and texts.
My father will be worried. If I wasn’t such a coward, I’d have called him already and explained I won’t be at church.
But I can’t explain.
I don’t know what happened. One minute Trudy was walking away, and the next I was in my car, driving.
At some point, I pulled off the road and slept in my backseat.
Now I’m staring out the window, freezing, exhausted, and feeling about as low as I did the first time I came here.
My body groans as I haul myself out of my battered Nissan and walk towards the gates.
I haven’t visited my mother’s grave in months. But for whatever reason, probably because the wedge between me and the rest of my family is growing, I’m missing her more than usual.
I stumble past tombstones until I find my mothers’ simple, unadorned, and belatedly realize I should have brought flowers.
Tears sting at my eyes as I kneel down on the grass and stare at the epitaph.
Loving mother, cherished wife, friend to all.
She lived her life to serve others.
I swallow hard as the words drip unbidden and unfiltered in a way they never could when she was alive. “I fucked up again, mom.”
I look around at the other graves. “I know no one believes me, but I was happy living in Baltimore. No one gave a shit about what I’d done.”
I shake my head. “I would have stayed there and finished school. But you died. And dad was…”
My eyes fill as I recall the late-night phone call. “He sounded awful. And I felt so guilty. I thought if I came back I could help him, but I haven’t. I’ve made it worse.”
I keep talking, about how no one accepts me or seems to want me here until I realize I’ve been venting to a block of stone so long the sun is now high and my throat is dry.
I check my watch and am about to get up to face the music when I hear a deep sigh of relief from behind me. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all morning.”
With the sun behind him, I have to squint to make sure I’m correct. “Dad?” I choke out.
He sits on the grass beside me and looks at the headstone. “I was about to give up. I thought you’d driven back to Baltimore.”
I know I should come clean with him, but I don’t have to, he speaks before I can. “I heard some of what you said.”
I scramble to remember what I was saying but he keeps his eyes on the headstone. “I promised myself I’d not burden you with this, but I’m worried if I don’t…”
“Dad? Burden me with what?”
He closes his eyes and releases the words in a rush. “Your mother wasn’t the person you thought she was.”
My eyes pop and he slowly shakes his head as if shaking lose a memory. “Lorna was an actress. Always on, always able to play the role, but she never wanted this life. And she resented me for it. She used to act out. Just like you do.”
“That can’t be true. I have no memory of her being anything less than a great mom.”
He smiles sadly. “She was a great mom. That’s why she stayed. She loved you girls. But she stopped loving me and the church long before she died.”
I blink twice, sure I’m dreaming this entire conversation. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re so much like her.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear.”
His eyes seem to cloud over. “You drink, you lie about your relationship with Aaron, you sneak around with Lacey, how can I believe that?”
At the mention of Aaron, my stomach flips. “What does Aaron have to do with anything?”
His eyes shift to the grave. “You told me you were dating, but you were doing more than that weren’t you? You were sleeping with him.”
A choked response escapes. “How did you know?”
He looks up at me, and his eyes seem to cloud over. “Someone had to keep watch over and take care of you.”
I open my mouth to ask for clarification when a single thought slams into me. “You’ve been coming into my apartment without my permission? Did you put the tracking app on my phone too?”
I’m about to demand he tell me when I catch the faint sound of sirens in the distance.
He looks so heartbroken, I can feel a pain in my own chest. “The police want to speak to you. It’s best you do it.”
I’m so devastated I can’t speak. And it doesn’t matter anyway.
No matter what I say or do, I’ll look guilty.
“I didn’t do it, dad. I didn’t steal from the church,” I whisper.
“Perhaps if you hadn’t lied about spending the night with Becker, I might believe you. I tried to warn him off too but he didn’t listen,” he says.
Anger overtakes my body as I begin to understand. “Too? You mean you told Aaron to break up with me?” I say.
He doesn’t deny it, just slowly rises to his feet, and extends his hand. “I didn’t want you to go down the same path as your mother.”
I stare up at him and squint as the sunlight forms a halo around his head as if God’s reminding me I need to obey. “What do you mean the same path as my mother?”
His shoulders go rigid as I get to my feet, ready to demand an answer. “The least you can do is be honest with me.”
He glances over his shoulder, his attention diverted by the approaching sirens. “I warned Becker you were weak.”
“That’s what you think is wrong with me? I’m weak?”
He doesn’t seem to be able to look at me, just slowly shakes his head as if despairing of me. “None of us are immune to sin. Now I see those sins have repeated in you.”
My eyes slide to the headstone and back to his tortured face. “What was mom’s sin?”
When he doesn’t answer, and can’t look at me, I know why he’s tried to keep me close.
“She had an affair, didn’t she? With who?”
He looks at me and looks so angry, I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.
“She risked everything we’d built for one night. And we were all punished because of her sin.”
I suck in a breath and take a step back as I see myself reflected in his words.
But it’s not my father’s words penetrating my exhaustion and shock.
It’s Becker’s.
That’s not God punishing you.
“You’re wrong, dad. About so many things,” I say.
I edge away so I’m out of his reach, and before he can stop me, I sidestep him and sprint towards the parking lot.
***
Becker
Sunday 8.11am
I’m halfway to Cynthia’s apartment, ready to tell her I think I know who is setting her up when my phone rings.
Since Matthew has been ignoring my calls, and Cynthia’s phone is switched off, I swerve off the road and snatch up my phone before.
“What happened to Cynthia? She’s missing?”
His irritation flows down the line. “As soon as she heard the police coming she ran again.”
I smother a curse. “What do you mean she heard the police?”
Matthew’s voice cuts in and out, and it’s obvious he’d rather be talking to anyone but me right now.
“Someone called in an anonymous tip. Cynthia had another bank account. It looks like it was being used as a funnel of some kind. I was hoping to convince her to turn herself in.”
This time I do let out a curse which seems to piss him off further. “This was a courtesy call and nothing more. The meeting to discuss Trudy’s forthcoming trip with Global Hope has been postponed due to the circumstances.”
All my veins fire as I think of how convenient the timing is. “I still need to finish my audit and finish prepping her.”
“That’s hardly top priority right now. And I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my family alone. I’m well aware you ignored my instructions with Cynthia and were lewd with Trudy. I will be contacting your supervisor and asking for another case officer to be assigned.”
Before I can ask him if he’ll be going home anytime soon, the line goes dead.
Questions rattle around my brain, rattling painfully as I try to organize my thoughts into something that makes sense.
No matter which way I look at it, it comes down to Matthew or Trudy.
They both have keys to Cynthia’s apartment, and they both handled the money and the accounts.
The only question is who benefits from Cynthia taking the fall?
The answer comes like a lightning bolt to my brain.
The only person who has anything to gain is the person with the most to lose.
