White Lies (A Twisted Fate 1)

“I know.”

We stared at the envelope in dismay. Carson appeared to be just as shocked. I traced my finger over the envelope again. These were words Dad wrote. He had been prepared for my path to cross with Trent. The last thing I wanted was to feel betrayed by him… but a small part did. It was a peculiar feeling not knowing this aspect of Dad’s life. For him to have been close to a man who obviously felt close to him and say nothing to me... left me feeling adrift.

We never kept secrets from each other. Ever.

Carson spoke. “Do you want me to step out of the car while you read the letter?”

Desperately, I grabbed his hand. “Please stay. I may want to leave immediately.”

“Whatever you want, Willow.” He patted my hand before I moved it back to my lap.

I slipped my fingers underneath the seal. The stationary was the same from his desk. It was the same stationary Mom gave him right before she died. He had never used a piece that I knew of… until now. The inside envelope had a silver embossed lining with my parents’ initials intertwined in an intricate pattern. As a child, I spent a lot of time in Dad’s office looking at it, especially when I missed Mom. Dad kept it in a special drawer behind his desk. When he died, it had been moved to the safe and put with my most-treasured items.

Only I had the combination.

This was his. Most definitely. Carefully, I opened the envelope and pulled out the folded matching paper. I swallowed hard at the tears simply seeing his words caused.

I had to put the paper on the dashboard as my tears poured out. Carson’s arms wrapped around me. “Shh… I’m here. I’m here, Willow. It’s okay.”

More sobs. Those words were from my dad. I missed him so much. He knew me so well. If only he were here with me.

Finally, the tears subsided, and I straightened up. I handed the letter to Carson; I desperately wished things were different.

I knew Dad loved me. But after having the most horrendous five months of my life, it was something I needed.

“Wow, Willow. I don’t know what to say.”

With a watery smile, I turned back to Carson. “Me, either.”

Gently, he folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. “What do you want to do?”

“Hear Trent out, I guess. Dad wanted me to.”

I took a few more minutes to calm down before I announced I was ready to go back.

He gave me a slight nod. Trent looked relieved when he saw us, as if he hadn’t expected me to return. I sat in the chair across from him. “Did you know what the note said?”

“I have no idea.”

There were still so many questions. “When did Dad give it to you?”

“A little under nine months ago. He told me that if you ever needed help, this might help you trust me.”

“Why did he think I would need help?”

Trent shifted in his seat. “Something happened.” I began to speak, but Trent held up his hand. “I can’t share it yet, Willow. Your Dad gave specific parameters on when I could tell you. I wish to hell I could, but I can’t betray my word to him. If I don’t have my word, I don’t have much left.”

Just like Dad predicted, anger rolled through me, but I kept it at bay. It was so frustrating. “Was Dad in trouble?”

“No, he was fine. The situation was handled.”

I racked my brain for what could have happened eight months ago—I’d just finished the last semester of my master’s degree.

This was the worse day to have a hangover. “Honestly, Trent, I don’t know what to say.”

He cleared his throat. “Let me tell you what I’ve found out. We can go from there. I’ll help anyway I can, but I won’t force anything on you.”

It was easy to see why Dad liked him… if this was the real him. Not so long ago, I had been deceived by my husband.

“Carson only setup the initial meeting. Nothing else was discussed.” Trent looked to Carson for confirmation, which he gave by nodding. Carson hadn’t said anything. I wasn’t sure what he thought right now. “I know Ms. Russo was married to Gabriel Alexander Thompson. From her father, I know she didn’t take his name, he had PTSD, and acted erratically different from when he left for deployment. Since he died, I found he had a wife named Candy and a son named after him. And was involved with some shady people.”

I sat there a little stunned. That was almost everything I had learned about him since Alex died.

Trent took my silence as the opportunity to continue. “Alex had quite the gambling addiction. He used his leverage to get his debt reduced. At one point, he owed the owner of Cocktails money. You know him as Harley.”

I processed everything for a second. “Did you find anything else out?”

“Honestly, Ms. Russo—”

“Willow, please.”

His eyes lit up. “Willow, when your dad died, I kept tabs on Alex because I know your dad was worried. I contemplated how to come to you with the information when he was killed. Then I wasn’t sure what to do. I’ve been keeping tabs from a distance to make sure you were safe, but I knew I was already overstepping my bounds by doing that without your permission.”

“Do you know about Commander Taylor?”

“I know he’s a dirty cop. Most of his precinct is.” Trent knew his stuff.

I sat on the precipice of a decision, knowing what Dad wanted me to do. For now, I wanted to see where this led. “What do you think you can do for me?”

“Design a protocol that keeps you safe until we figure out how deep the rabbit hole goes.”

We drove back to the house on Martha’s Vineyard. Everyone had gone into town to eat dinner. They’d texted earlier, saying they were going drinking again, and invited us. It was an easy decline with my head feeling as though a wrecking ball had made a few swings inside of it. Carson had been on the phone arranging the trip to Italy, leaving me with my thoughts.

Trent was an enigma. He seemed honest and to have loved Dad, but what incident had been kept from me? It drove me crazy. The fact was I had no idea when in the last two years the incident occurred. It was hard not to feel a little hurt at Dad for not trusting me with the information. Maybe he hadn’t thought I was strong enough to handle it. How could it be worse than my current situation?

“What did you think about him, Willow?”

I looked around, realizing the car had stopped at the house. “I’m not sure. I guess we’ll see what he recommends for security and go from there.” Facing Carson, I asked, “Was there anything Dad or Trent said that would have led you to believe they were as close as he said?”

“No. Nothing. Trent never mentioned him. He came to the funeral.”

There were so many people who had been there it was impossible for me to remember.

We got out of the car. The cool breeze from the ocean felt refreshing. “Let’s see. I know Trent is clean. I’ve had him extensively investigated prior to using him for security at Whitmore Hotels.”

I figured as much since Carson had helped him. A yawn escaped me. “I think I’m going to turn in. With Rosie having moved on to Mitchell, I think you’re safe to sleep in your own room.”

“Yeah, I’m going to call Francesca. See you in the morning, angel.”

“See you.”

After changing into my pajamas, I charged my phone and saw the notification on the burner from Tack. It was from earlier.

Tack: Thanks for this morning and listening to me.

Something gooey melted inside me, but I forced it away. I was too on edge with all the revelations of the afternoon. Tack remained an unknown, too, and the realization of how much I had let my guard down with him scared me.

Dad’s note became my focus for now.

Me: You’re welcome. Thanks for listening to me. I’m exhausted from last night. The bed is calling my name.

Almost instantly I got a question in response.

Tack: One question… how did the security guy work out?

Me: We’ll see. No

t sure.

Tack: Sleep tight, Willow.

Tack: Night, Tack.

I threw on my pajamas and quickly got into bed. Before I knew it, I was out—with all my problems from the day put aside.

The car pulled up to the Whitmore Hotel in Florence. It was magnificent with the old stone architecture and Italian sculptures recessed within the walls.