Page 102 of Bittersweet Revenge

“Okay, so what now?” She asked when we entered my bedroom.

I opened my laptop. “I’ve recorded myself saying things.” I pointed at the screen, which displayed a selection of clips including ‘just a minute’, ‘what is it?’, ‘I’m trying something’, ‘I’m not decent’, and other sentences I had prerecorded.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip, a frown deep between her eyebrows.

“I’ll be okay. I need thirty minutes, forty-five tops. They won’t even notice we’re gone.”

“Okay…” She trailed off, the uncertainty clear in her voice.

“And what are they going to do, kill me?” I tried in an attempt at humor.

Her scowl deepened. “That’s not funny!” she hissed.

“Oh, come on, it’s a little funny.”

“No, it’s not.” She pointed at the door. “Now go before you say something even stupider.”

I chuckled and exited the room, finally letting go of the fake bravado I'd been showing to my friend. I walked down the corridor to Jacklyn’s room and used the master key Caleb had given me. Nobody knew he had that. He'd made a copy when he was fourteen when his father had left his keys out in the open. Caleb had known they would be useful one day and today was that day.

Jacklyn's room was enormous and so not what I'd expected. It was strange for someone who’d lived in the same space for the past twenty-odd years.

All of the furniture looked plush and practical with not much extra. It looked a lot like a French country bedroom I'd seen in one of Sophia’s decoration magazines. Her king bed was covered in floral print bedding, fluffy pillows, and a couple of colorful throws. A tufted cream headboard was at one end, a cushioned ottoman at the other. A comfy-looking armchair with a flowery blanket on top of it sat beside the wide French doors, which I suspected led out on to a balcony.

The cream walls sported some bird cage reproductions, making me wonder if it was supposed to be a giant ‘fuck you’ to the life we led. There was an enormous three-way antique mirror by the walk-in closet and a vintage set of drawers on which sat the only things that made the room personal – three photos of her and Theo. It made me angry and sad at the same time how dismissive of Caleb she’d always been. It was not his fault if he was not conceived the way he should have been. He’d still been an innocent baby, nothing more.

I sighed. Shaking my head, I concentrated on the task at hand. I’d have to have a conversation with Jacklyn about the photos though. Well, if she wasn’t my mother's murderer.

My frustration was reaching a new high the more I looked. Her room was the most boring place I'd ever been in. There was nothing of interest here.

In my last attempt to find something, anything really, I rounded the bed and lifted the mattress. Who knew? She might have had the soul of a fifteen-year-old boy hiding porn. But yet again, there was nothing to be found.

“Oh, for the love of God!” I growled in frustration. I laid on the floor for a minute, just letting the desperation get to me.

I rolled over onto my front to stand up. In doing so I looked under the night table and saw there was something there…definitely. I slid my hand under and it grazed against the smooth surface of a box.

Hope and excitement resurfaced as I pulled the table up a little to get the box out. I knelt by the bed and opened the box. There were some photos in it, some of Theo with Caleb, and a brown envelope with my name on it. My hands shook. The handwriting was so familiar and inside were the pages of the journal I'd sent Caleb. It was her. It had been her all along.

“Can I help you with anything?

I looked up, startled to find Jacklyn glaring at me from her position in front of the closed door.

“You sent me the journal?” I asked, extending the envelope toward her. How could it be her? After everything, how could she have been my mother's ally?

“You’re J. Astor?! Luke had asked the wrong Astor for help.”

She glowered even more now. “This is none of your business.”

I jerked up, offended by her quick dismissal. “Like hell it’s not my business! I thought you were trying to kill me, but you were trying to help me?” Saying it out loud didn’t help it make any more sense.

“Kill you?” She laughed. “Why on earth would I want to kill you?”

“Why on earth would you want to kill your son?” I knew it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Get out of my room. Now!” she commanded.

I took a step back, closer to the window, but keeping the envelope in my hand. “No.” I shook my head. “I won’t leave before you explain everything to me.”

Jacklyn paled. I didn’t understand why until I felt cold metal press against my temple and the distinctive sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked.

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