Page 94 of What the Wife Knew

“Don’t listen to her. She is a petty con artist.” Kathryn was seething. She abandoned any attempt to hide behind good manners and proper etiquette as she shifted and gestured and fought the words.

I wasn’t done. “Your dad set up your uncle and massacred your grandparents. He lied to everyone, including you.”

“That can’t be true.” Wyatt sounded tortured by the information being thrown at him.

No more games. No more pretending. No more hiding behind a fake marriage, regardless of the cost. “I have the proof. That’s why your father married me, Wyatt.”

“So, you did blackmail him?” The disappointment and hurt came through Wyatt’s voice.

I debated dodging the question and ended up shading it. “It’s the agreement we reached. We got married. Your dad lost control of his life and banks accounts and in return I stayed quiet.”

My moment of triumph never came. The hoped-for catharsis fizzled. There was no payoff. Not even satisfaction at unmasking Richmond for the psychopath he was. The scene left me with the same emptiness I’d carried my whole life.

The two of them stood in front of me like a wall of outrage. In sync and against me. They looked ready to do battle, to join forces and take me down.

I still held the bat and one last emotional grenade. “What’s worse, Wyatt, is that I wasn’t the only one who stayed quiet. Your mother knew what your dad did.”

Kathryn gasped. “How dare you.”

“She knew before the killings happened and did nothing to stop him.”

Chapter Sixty-One

Him

Twenty-Seven Years Earlier

One week to go.

The countdown ticked in my head. I’d stopped concentrating in class. My notes consisted of drawings and maps. I destroyed both at the end of each day. No evidence left behind.

Screw homework. Screw Mr. Phillips and AP Calculus. The stakes were higher now. The school would cut me slack after the killings. No one would dare flunk the lone survivor and big school hero. I should get automatic top grades for my bravery. They’d all be grateful for being alive.

The plans were set. The last three components clicked into place. Gun safe. Car. School schedule. We’d timed out every minute and ran through the perfect scenario at least twenty times. Until it rolled without any hiccups.

Most practice sessions Cooper did well. He performed his assigned tasks. Figured out how to carry the guns and keep them hidden. He was an eager and willing assistant. He’d get into it and try to improvise. I stopped that shit fast. There could only be one leader, and that was me.

A few times after, when we were back home following a test run, usually after Mom’s required family dinner, he’d question ifwe should go through with it. He’d talk about loving them. He’d ask who would take care of things and pay for stuff if they were gone. Every now and then he’d fixate on a good memory and want to forget the plan.

His back-and-forth answered my biggest question—what to do with Cooper? He lacked commitment, so I had no choice. He’d compromise everything. Feeling guilty one day, he’d tell the wrong person and we’d get caught. I couldn’t take the risk of him unraveling my work.

“Are you bored or something?”

My mind snapped back to the present. In the back seat of my car. To the girl beside me with her shirt unbuttoned and her pink bra peeking out.

“No, babe. We’re good.”

She snorted. “Good?”

I hated that sound.

“Sorry. Family stuff.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I did. I wanted to impress her with how I’d put the puzzle together. Gathering the pieces took months. Medical school would be a breeze compared to this.

Instead, I shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

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