Page 53 of The Gilded Cuff
There. It was out. She couldn’t take back her confession, but would Miranda understand why this mattered so much? She and Emery shared a type of tragedy that thankfully few people ever experienced. It was as though they were drawn together by that single thread of pain, and yet their connection over the last day had grown into something infinitely more than that: something intangible she was too afraid to name but hoped would continue. Between them there were no secrets—not the ones that kept them both from the rest of the world. Together they were free.
“Ah.” Understanding transformed the cool, distant expression on the other woman’s face. Sorrow and concern were there as well. “Emery knows about your friend?”
Sophie nodded. “I told him about Rachel. I wanted him to know that this isn’t just a story to me. This is…” How could she possibly explain? “Emery survived. He’s alive. It’s a miracle to me. So many other children are taken and never seen again, but he got away.”
“How did you meet my son?” Miranda asked. “He said you’re going to write about what happened.” There was still a wariness in Miranda’s eyes, but she no longer seemed hostile.
Sophie tucked her hands in her skirts, trying to hide their trembling. She wasn’t used to telling someone her darkest truths, or discussing herself so openly. But Miranda needed to hear it.
“After losing Rachel, I devoted my life to stopping people like the man who took her. I’m a journalist, yes; but I’m not here to focus on his pain, or his trauma. I’m here to solve the mystery of who was behind it. Mrs. Lockwood, I’m good with puzzles, I see patterns in things. I came here to find Emery and get all the details he wouldn’t share with police or even you. If—” she drew in a shaky breath— “If I get the right information, I might be able to see something everyone else couldn’t. I want to find who was behind this and stop them.”
“But it’s been so many years. What good would it do now?” Miranda asked.
“Mrs. Lockwood, in cases like your sons’ abduction, there’s always something off. No ransom calls or letters were ever made or delivered; no one ever came forward. Your sons were hard to target, and an average person wouldn’t have bothered with them unless they had another motive. Like money. So why then did no one call for a ransom?”
Emery’s mother was watching her, a cunning glint in her eyes as she puzzled over Sophie’s words. “You think someone didn’t want a ransom?”
“Yes. I think the kidnapping was a ruse. Someone wanted to kill Emery and his brother, and make it look like it was done for a ransom. But that no ransom was never arranged because the boys would have accidentally died before a call could be made. Yet there was so much time, a three-month gap. They were waiting for instructions from someone.”
“But who…” Miranda trailed off, her gaze distant. “Who would want to do that to my babies?”
“That’s what I want to know, Mrs. Lockwood. I want to find that person and stop them. Because I think that the danger isn’t gone. Even after all these years, Emery’s life is still at risk. I feel it in my bones.”
“I wish he would have told Elliot and me what happened. What if he had and we’d learned something that could have stopped this years ago?”
“As a mother, you don’t know who to mourn more. The boy who perished, or the one who lives with the guilt of surviving.”
Miranda smoothed her dress, the motion slow and measured. “And Emery wasn’t the same when he came home. He was…” Emery’s mother blinked rapidly, but a stray tear slipped down her cheek. With a hasty move, she brushed her fingers over her cheek, trying to hide the evidence of her tears. “He was still my son, but he seemed broken. Without Fenn, he withdrew from us, from the world. In so many ways, it’s as though we’ve raised a stranger. I barely know him at all and I want to, Ms. Ryder. I want my son back. When he called today, I didn’t know what to think, but then when I saw you with him, I realized you had something to do with this.”
That didn’t sound like a good thing, and Sophie waited for Miranda to accuse her of hurting Emery, but the accusation didn’t come. The other woman was smiling, even if her eyes were a little watery.
“I don’t understand,” Sophie admitted quietly.
Miranda held out her hand and took one of Sophie’s between hers, holding it tightly. “I see my son again, the one that seemed lost to me. He’s there, just a faint but steadily growing presence. Because of you. I saw how he looked at you throughout dinner, the way he touches you so protectively, affectionately. It’s how his father is with me. He trusts you and if he trusts you, then so do I.” She squeezed Sophie’s hand in a silent show of support and Sophie held fast. This was not how she’d foreseen meeting Emery’s parents.
“You’re not upset that I’m here?” she asked.
“No, I’m not. If Emery can open up to you, that’s what matters. Whatever happened that night has weighed on him and I only wish I knew why.”
Sophie bit her bottom lip. “He wanted to tell you both what happened but he feels responsible. I think Fenn forced him to escape and made him leave alone. I can’t imagine how that must have felt, to abandon your brother, even though he told you to. I think Emery fears you’ll blame him for leaving his brother behind.”
“What?” Miranda’s face paled. “How could he? We would never…oh, my poor boy!”
Without another word to her, Miranda rushed from the room, crossed the hall and went back into the dining room. Sophie started to follow but froze in the doorway as she saw Miranda hugging Emery fiercely and whispering softly to him. The stark pain in his eyes soon turned to quiet grief and then relief and love before he shut them. Elliot joined his wife and son, arms curling around their shoulders.
Never in her life had Sophie felt more like an outsider. She was intruding on a reunion that was twenty-five years overdue.
It was time to leave.
She didn’t want to stay any longer, even if her heart begged her. They’d only just learned to talk to each other, to open up. To know that something might have come from such intimacy—to turn her back on it felt like a betrayal, but her own sorrow was too great to bear alone. Too many years spent repressing that pain had finally caught up with her. Seeing Emery achieve what she could never have—peace—made her want to run away, like the child she always seemed to be inside.
Rachel’s parents would never have such a moment. It was her fault. If she hadn’t been so scared, she could have screamed for help sooner. But she’d failed. Failed her friend, her friend’s parents, and herself.
Emery’s story had seemed like the answer to everything, but she was wrong. It wasn’t the answer. It was the acceptance by his parents. That moment when he could open himself up, wounds and all, to his parents and not be judged. That was an absolution she would never get.
She had to go upstairs, pack and leave. Her editor would want the story on the kidnapping soon, but Sophie couldn’t afford to stay here. She’d get the copies of the articles from Cody and do a phone interview with Emery in a few days. He needed time with his family now and having her underfoot would be the least helpful thing for him. There was no point in her staying. If she found any hard evidence of who was behind the killing, she had Cody’s information, and could contact him immediately. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and the past as possible.
When she got back to Emery’s bedroom she grabbed her suitcase and dropped it on the bed. She started throwing clothes in and rushed into the bathroom to gather her toiletries. Hurrying back into the bedroom, she stopped dead when she saw Emery leaning casually against the door frame, blocking the only exit. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and a scowl darkened his face.
