Page 107 of Sins & Secrets

Miss Theresa Geist has a bad habit. I’m not sure if anyone else knows, but growing up so close to her, spending so much time with her, I’ve learned that she sometimes forgets her keys. She takes the subway to work, and it’s happened more than a time or two.

Because of this, she leaves the main office key tucked in the drawer of the reception desk in the hallway. It’s hidden in a false bottom to the drawer. Or at least she used to hide it there. I swing the large glass door open and my heart races as I commit the first crime tonight, knowing it’s being recorded. Knowing it’s capturing my face.

It doesn’t matter. It won’t matter unless the cops or security have to pull up the tapes for a reason.

I swallow thickly, picking up the tray of paper clips and collection of pens and thumbtacks.

A small smile curves my lips up as I find the key. I stare at it a moment, watching it gleam in the lights from the hallway. It’ll only get me into his practice’s section of the building, but his office lock can be picked now that I’ll be completely out of sight.

Open from 7:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.The white letters look back at me as I slip in the key and unlock the door.

With the soft click, all I can think is that I should have done this weeks ago. I prop the door open with a desk chair and return the key to where it belongs. No one will be the wiser. I should have come in here the moment I knew about the safe and the combination to its secrets.

But Jules was still with me.

She was still in my house and in my bed. Still a target if something were to happen to me. Everyone knows she’s left me, thanks to the article in the morning paper.

Everyone is very aware that she left me after the incident that occurred at the gala. Or at least that’s what’s being read in black and white.

My heart clenches and I grit my teeth, kicking the chair back as I head straight for my father’s door in the back. I slip my hand into my pocket, feeling the bent paper clips there. My fingers travel up and down the thin metal.

She would never do something like this. Jules isn’t capable of it. I smile and a rough laugh slips through my lips as I stop at his door and slide the paper clips into the lock. Back in the day, I was damn good at this.

Jules would hate to know all the shit I did years ago.My pulse slows at the thought, turning cold, beating in time with the lock clicking and then the knob turns. I push open the door slowly, ignoring the memories.

The room is brighter than the hall was. The city lights pour through the blinds, creating alternating stripes of light and shadow throughout the room.

I don’t waste any time, letting the door shut behind me and moving to his desk, to the cabinet. It swings open easily as if there’s no challenge at all presenting itself.

I hesitate only for a moment, realizing whatever’s in the safe may tell me more than I ever wanted to know.

There may be evidence of him murdering my mother.It’s the first thought that comes to mind, and inwardly I curse myself. It’s been twenty years.

Slipping on leather gloves first, I press the buttons slowly, mimicking my father’s movements although the safe itself looks typical and ordinary. My lungs still, and my blood rushes in my ears as I wait for the light to flash and the small click that tells me it’s unlocked.

It was far too easy.

Piles of paper lay in the safe. Stacks of photographs are the first that I remove, right where he kept the ones of Liam’s wife and Jace Anderson. The photos are still on top. I flip through them, still in disbelief. How the hell did she even know him?

The stack directly underneath the one my father showed me makes me do a double take. I grab the photo of Jace and Cecile together and hold it next to a photo of Cecile alone. As I compare the two, my anger rises.

I’ve always known he was a liar.

It’s altered. The photo is faked. My shoulders rise and fall with a tense breath.

Why set her up? They’re already getting a divorce.It’s for you, a soft voice whispers in the back of my head.It was all to convince you it wasn’t him. He’d let anyone else take the fall.

I slip the photo back into place and scan through the others, searching for shots of Jules or myself, or anything else that proves what a conniving bastard my father is.

The next print is of someone I don’t know. I’m confused at first because I have no idea why it was even taken. There’s nothing remotely scandalous about it. I stare at the man in question and try to place him. It takes me a moment before I realize it’s Jules’s CPA, her financial advisor. The prick she wentto go see months and months ago. I make it a habit to know who she interacts with. Why him? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe he blackmailed him into doing something. I’m not sure.

I stop short at the next stack. It’s a letter.

I stare at the photograph of Avery’s blackmail letter. Her signature is there. I remember how she used to sign her name. Her handwriting was distinct when she signed documents. All I ever saw was her signature. The curves though, the curves of her writing are so familiar.

My blood runs cold. It’s not possible.

It’s her handwriting in the notes. I turn to the next photograph and it’s another letter from Avery. No it’s not. It’s just a list of what looks like groceries.

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