Beneath the Scars

The receipt I let carelessly blow away. He’d been right there, watching. For all I knew, he’d been in the gallery listening to me while I was talking to Ashley. He picked up the piece of paper and instantly knew the Z D A on the paintings in the gallery and the Zachary on the paper were the same person I mentioned to Bill. For someone like him, smart at research, desperate to silence me, it was all he needed. I had no idea if he stayed in town or went back to Boston and returned, but he had pictures from the day we’d been in town which he used to convince Zachary he was telling the truth. I knew he’d been to the beach at least once, but hadn’t approached the house, or if he had, dismissed it quickly, knowing it was too open and he’d be seen. In town he could blend in, though, and he did it well; even making sure Mrs. Cooper thought he was a friend.

A long shiver ran through me as I picked up my pen, not sure I’d be able to handle writing all this out, but knowing I had to. As painful as it was, the story deserved the same honesty at the end as the beginning. This part wouldn’t fill the journal—there would be pages empty at the end.

Pages I wondered if I would ever fill or if they would remain as empty as the hollow in my chest.

I filled my lungs with oxygen, exhaling fast. My breath flew over the pages, teasing the edges of the thick stock. The deep red of the satin bookmark fluttered with the air, and I tucked it farther into the book.

I pressed the pen to the paper and began.* * *Hours later, the opening of the back door startled me and my head snapped up. Night had fallen outside; standing in the shadow of the doorway were Chris and Karen. I was so deep into writing, I hadn’t even heard the car arrive. They both looked serious and a rush of dread filled me, my heartbeat speeding up as fear shot through me.

Karen sat down on the coffee table and I reached out, my hand shaking. “What?” I begged her. “Did something…my parents?” My voice trailed off in a whimper when she shook her head. “Zachary?”

Her hand wrapped around mine. “No, honey. No, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to frighten you like that.”

Chris sat beside her. “It’s Jared.”

I shut my eyes, fighting panic. What had he done now? What more did I have to lose?

“Tell me.”

“Megan,” Chris began, “look at me, please.”

I opened my eyes, surprised at the calm gaze that met mine. I relaxed a little.

“You need to come to Boston with us.”

“Why?”

“There was a fire at Jared’s house. It was basically destroyed.”

I frowned at him, unsure what this had to do with me. “Was he, um, hurt?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.” Why did he want me to go to Boston?

“In the chaos of the fire and the aftermath, his desk was overturned.” Chris paused, glancing at Karen. She squeezed my hand to get my attention.

“Do you remember his desk, Megan?”

I nodded. “Yes. It was an old oak one with lots of drawers. Jared said it was so big it had been in the house since it was built. You couldn’t get it out of the room. He didn’t let anyone touch it.”

Chris smirked. “Well, they did more than touch it. When they flipped it to get to the wall, searching for hotspots, they triggered some mechanism and a secret compartment opened up.”

“Secret compartment?”

Karen leaned forward. “It had manuscripts in it, Megan.”

“I’m sorry—manuscripts? What manuscripts?”

“Stolen manuscripts. Your book was in there—the original manuscript you penned.”

“My book?” I echoed in disbelief.

“Yes. It’s over, Megan. Jared’s been lying all this time.”

Those were the words I’d wanted to hear all along. “He admitted it?” I whispered, unable to believe what I was hearing.

“He couldn’t deny it. The concrete evidence was right there.”

A memory stirred as I looked at Karen. Zachary stating he thought Jared was “either very clever or he’d done this before and knew all the loopholes.” He’d been right all along.

“There were other books?”

“His entire series. He stole all of it.”

“What?” I gasped. “The whole series?”

“Bill will explain everything to you. We need you to come back to Boston with us and see him. Jared’s lawyer and publishers, or ex-publishers, want to meet with you.”

“Why didn’t you call? I could have driven myself in.”

“We didn’t know how you’d react,” Karen admitted. “Bill did email you yesterday, but you didn’t respond.”

“Oh.” I looked over to the counter where my laptop sat. “I forgot to plug it in. You were worried. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. We decided to come out and get you.”

I smiled at my friends. I was lucky to have them in my life and I knew I needed their support right now, perhaps more than ever. “Thank you.”