Page 47 of Her Dying Secret

Carol laughed long and hard until a coughing fit seized her. She pounded on her chest with her free hand before resuming. “She never came around again, but she and Mira talked a couple of times after Gordon died. Mira never said, but I always thought that April got her that job at Hillcrest Elementary. That’s around the time she stopped talking to me altogether. Guess that job didn’t work out if she ended up around your way. Figures.”

THIRTY-FOUR

April Carlson’s family home was the opposite of Mira Summers’s in every way. Ten times the size of Carol Summers’s house, it towered over a generous four-acre lot of meticulously cut grass. Carefully trimmed bushes lined the long driveway and the front walk. They had called ahead and April’s mother, Teresa Carlson, waited at the door, pushing it open to let them in before they could knock or ring the doorbell. Josie was struck at once by the resemblance between her and April—the April Josie had seen in photos, not the way she’d looked in death. Teresa’s long hair was silver, but her bright eyes, high cheekbones, and wide mouth were identical to her daughter’s, except for the tear stains that ran down her cheeks. She wore a fitted cashmere sweater and black slacks and carried herself regally as she waved them through the huge foyer into the back of the house.

The kitchen was twice the size of Carol Summers’s entire house, with marble countertops and an island where Teresa motioned for them to sit. Stacks of flyers covered its surface, Officer Shane Foster’s face staring at them again. Teresa quickly began moving them to the dinner table. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m helping the Fosters get the word out. The three-year anniversary of Shane’s disappearance is just around the corner. After what we went through with April, I felt like if I could help another family get through this, then it would give me some purpose.” She paused to stare at Shane Foster’s photo. “April went on a couple of dates with him, you know. Right before he disappeared.”

“Heather told us,” Josie said as she and Gretchen each sat on a stool. She was glad they wouldn’t have to contend with smoke. She’d taken two more ibuprofen in the car on the way over but her throat—and nearly every other part of her body—still hurt. At least neither Carol nor Teresa had commented on the lingering rasp in her voice.

Teresa transferred the last of the flyers from the island to the table with a sigh. “April was so crushed. She took it really hard. I think she really liked him.”

In the corner of the room a small table held a large, framed photo of April—the same one that had been used on her missing persons poster and on the news. It was surrounded by unlit candles. Teresa drifted toward it as if it was pulling her. She ran a finger over her daughter’s face. The longing in the gesture made Josie’s heart clench.

Gretchen said, “It’s a beautiful photo of her.”

Without looking away, Teresa said, “It’s my favorite. It was taken on her thirty-fifth birthday. My mother gave her that bracelet—it had been hers. April was so moved. She wore it all the time until she lost it. She found it, thank God, but wouldn’t wear it after that. It was too precious. Just like her.”

The moment stretched on. Josie didn’t feel as though they should interrupt Teresa’s memories of April so they waited. Finally, Teresa used the heels of her hands to wipe at her cheeks. She turned back to them, managing a watery smile. “Anyway, can I get you officers anything? Water? Espresso? Something to eat? My husband brought home some goodies from our local bakery yesterday.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Carlson,” said Gretchen. “We don’t want to take up any more of your time than absolutely necessary.”

Teresa hugged herself. “When the county coroner showed up here to tell us…” She trailed off. More tears ran down her cheeks. A tissue appeared from the sleeve of her sweater, and she dabbed at them. “Sorry. It’s just been nonstop waterworks ever since we found out. When April wasn’t located after two weeks of searching, I knew that things weren’t going to end well but of course, as a mother, you hold out hope. Heather—Detective Loughlin—has been wonderful. She stopped by after the death notification to talk us through everything she knows about the case. Now you’ve got a suspect. When you called the other night to tell me, and then I saw the photo of him, I felt…I don’t know. I guess I expected to recognize him or something. It seems so strange to me that he targeted April randomly, but that’s just me wanting her disappearance and death to make some kind of sense. It’s like if he knew her and had some reason for doing what he did—however sick—then maybe it won’t be so painful, but then I think if I had recognized him, and it wasn’t random, then I would be beating myself up for not seeing any red flags that could have saved her. My therapist says that it doesn’t matter whether it was random or not. It doesn’t change the outcome.”

She heaved a sigh and wiped at her face again. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to know all that.”

Her grief was so raw and palpable that it broke Josie’s heart, plunging her right back into that painful time in her own life after the deaths of people closest to her. It was months of performing endless mental gymnastics as a way to make sense of something senseless and to alleviate pain that was not meant to be alleviated. In her own time, Teresa Carlson would come to live with the fact that none of those emotional maneuvers changed the outcome—or mitigated the devastation. It was one of life’s hardest truths. “I get it, Mrs. Carlson,” Josie offered. “My therapist said the same thing to me after I lost my grandmother.”

Teresa reached across the counter and patted Josie’s hand. “Thank you.”

Gretchen said, “We understand that this is an extremely difficult time for you and your family. The last thing we want to do is make things worse. We can come back another time.”

Teresa smiled through her tears and waved a hand, dismissing the suggestion. “No. No. I’ve been trying to stay away from the news and social media, but my son told me that this man—Seth Lee—abducted someone else just yesterday. The woman who tried to save April. I want to help in any way that I can.”

Gretchen folded her hands on the countertop. “We appreciate that.”

“Also,” Josie said, “we’re not entirely sure that what happened to April was random.” Given the fact that Seth had been dating Mira, and Mira and April were half-sisters, Josie knew it wasn’t random at all. They now knew what connected the three of them, but they still didn’t know why Seth had kidnapped and killed April—or where the child fit into all of it. Or who the child was. Josie took a deep breath and then plunged into their next line of inquiry. “In the course of our investigation, it has come to our attention that April’s biological father was Gordon Summers.”

What little color left in Teresa’s face drained away. She swayed a bit and then grabbed the nearest stool, sinking into it. “God, I haven’t heard his name since…since April demanded to know it. That was…ten years ago. Why are you asking me about Gordon? He’s been dead for a long time now.”

“Are you aware that April sought him out?” asked Josie.

Her hand flew to her chest. “No, no. That can’t be right. She promised me she wouldn’t. I told her the truth about him. She was old enough to hear it by then. I barely managed to escape him. The only reason he didn’t sue me for custody of April was because he couldn’t afford it. But he would have taken her from me if he’d had the chance. Not because he cared about her—he never did—but to hurt me. That’s how Gordon was—spiteful and cruel. Once I married my husband—Bill—he had an attorney contact Gordon. It took months, but eventually he gave up his parental rights and Bill adopted her. That’s why she’s Carlson and not Summers. No one even knows that she’s not Bill’s except for us and our kids, and even the kids didn’t know until they were adults and realized that Bill didn’t show up in her baby pictures until she was almost two years old. Oh God?—”

She swayed again as a realization hit her. “Mira Summers. She’s Gordon’s daughter, isn’t she? My other children suggested it, but I told them it wasn’t possible. Summers is a fairly common name. I thought it was just a coincidence. Oh no. No, no. Is it true?”

Gretchen grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”

Teresa said nothing as she digested this fact.

Obviously, Teresa hadn’t kept tabs on her ex or known that he’d had another daughter. Josie asked, “Gordon never contacted you again? After he gave up his parental rights?”

Teresa shook her head. “No. I think Bill’s attorney intimidated him or he realized that he had lost control over me, and it just wasn’t any fun anymore. God, I can’t believe that April contacted him. I was honest with her about what he did to me. When he found out I was pregnant with her, he beat me so badly, I nearly lost her! I made her promise that she would never approach him. I don’t think he would have been a threat to her at that point since she was an adult, but I just didn’t think it was a good idea to poke that hornet’s nest.”

“I’m sorry,” said Gretchen. “But it appears that she did, and from what Gordon’s widow told us, meeting him once was enough to deter her from any further contact.”

“I had no idea,” Teresa whispered. “I remember seeing his obituary. That was years ago but I can’t remember how long exactly. When did she…”

“We’re not exactly sure,” Josie said. “But he died five years ago so it had to be before that.”

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