Shadow Notes Laurel Peterson (best reads TXT) 📖

“What did you do when he asked you to predict the future?”

“You know it doesn’t work that way. I only got the burning images, and I figured those didn’t fit his plan. I very sweetly told him that I couldn’t help him. He didn’t ask again; instead, he found me after the honors convocation, the one event my mother had allowed me to attend. I was receiving an award for an essay I’d written about the mystic Julian of Norwich. Your grandfather was late picking me up, and Andrew offered me a ride home. I felt the fury billowing off him and told him my father would be worried if I wasn’t there when he arrived. I wasn’t anyway because Andrew manhandled me around the side of the school behind the dumpsters, forced me down on the filthy ground and ripped away my skirt and panties.”

“Mother!” Shocked, I started to get up, but her hand locked me in place.

“You need to know he’s vicious, Clara. I’ll spare you the worst of it, but he slapped me repeatedly, until it felt like my cheek would crack open. My left eye swelled shut, my lower lip split. Broken glass on the asphalt sliced into my back; I needed stitches there and in my vagina. He bruised my face, wrists, upper arms, and thighs, and the ground scraped my back and thighs. The doctor spent a long time that night digging out glass fragments.”

“How could the doctor see that and not turn Winters in?” Wasn’t that medical malpractice? I was twitching from side to side, as if the movement would dispel my rage.

“Dr. Hankin had just been caught on the drug charges, and—”

“Hankin?!”

“Andrew’s father persuaded the medical board that Joe deserved a second chance and the new practice in the city. It’s probably why Wendy pulled that hysterical stunt on you in Whole Foods the other day. I would imagine Andrew’s been pressuring Joe to keep his mouth shut.

“Joe did something for me, though, and that’s what Andrew is after. Joe took tissue and semen samples. This was before rape kits were in common use, but he knew what to do: he wrote up and dated his report, and his nurse signed as a witness to my examination. Just before you arrived home, I finally managed to get some of Andrew’s DNA by swiping a glass he set down at a party. I had a DNA test done, proving you’re Andrew’s daughter.”

I nodded, remembering Dr. Hankin swabbing my cheek fifteen years before. I hadn’t thought a thing about it. I’d gone in to make sure my vaccinations were up-to-date before leaving for France. Apparently, Mother had had it tested then, compared Andrew’s to those results.

I thought, picked out the core piece of information. “Winters wants to be President.”

“Yes.”

“That’s what the intruder was looking for. That report. The DNA test.”

“Yes. And I don’t know where it is.”

“I took it from your cottage. It’s in my night table upstairs.”

Chapter 23

We stopped, encased in the kind of silence horror brings. All ­politicians weren’t evil, but this one was, and he needed to be stopped.

“I’m sorry.” I rubbed my hands down my thighs. I couldn’t stop trembling.

“Sorry for what?”

“Because of me, you can’t move on, you can’t forget. I’m amazed you can bear to look at me.”

“There were days I couldn’t.” She looked at me hard. “I was afraid you would turn out like him. You’ve carried your anger around for such a long time, and anger skews people. But you didn’t. You try to do the right thing.” At last, she reached her hand toward me and I took it. “I am honored to have you as a daughter, Clara.”

I held my breath to prevent my tears. I couldn’t even imagine what it cost her to say that, but I needed to absorb it before I could tell her the same. Even though I knew it was crazy, saying anything positive seemed like absolving Andrew Winters of responsibility.

“You think he killed Hugh?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Himself?”

“No. Not that.”

“But why?”

“Those notations on the lists you gave me the other day? They correlate to constituents who are giving big private donations to his Political Action Committees, as regularly as once a month. Some of the donors began giving on significant dates. Joe Hankin started contributing shortly after he moved his practice into the city. That’s thirty-five years of campaign donations, long before Winters declared for a national seat. Hankin supported him through council seats, local government, and the state senate. That’s a pretty loyal donor.”

My toe started tapping the floor in agitation.

“Then there’s sweet old Melton Honey. He had a few business problems ten years ago or so, something to do with environmental regulations. The state was going to make him perform a very expensive clean-up, when ­suddenly the ­problems disappeared. Melton’s regular donations started coming in shortly after that, but they came through his company, his wife, other company employees.”

“So the ‘B’ in those notations is for blackmail? Winters is blackmailing his way into the Senate? Oh, for god’s sake!” The trembling congealed into tension in my shoulders and jaw; if I held the blanket tight enough around me, maybe I wouldn’t crack apart.

“Andrew would call it trading favors, just as he did in school.”

“Right. I make your problem go away and, because you are so grateful, you fund my campaigns for thirty-five years? I understand a few donations, maybe even a one-time payoff, but these people are scared. These are incidents that could lose them their wealth and position and put them behind bars.” I loosened my hands from the chair arms. “So what do the other letters stand for? BRE? BSA?”

Mother rubbed at the finish on her nail polish. “I’m pretty sure the RE is for the rape evidence that Hankin withheld. I’m not sure about the SA.”

“The abbreviations indicate the infraction? SA was on Wendy’s file. Substance abuse?”

Mother nodded. “That makes sense.”

“What did Hugh have to do with all this?” My head