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Kane felt a wash of relief. Claire hadn’t been a part of it—whatever it was. But she lied to you, didn’t she? About your son!
Claire touched Miranda’s shoulder again. “You never told me what really happened.”
“It was better if you didn’t know,” Miranda said, as Claire kept up her pacing.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been going out of my mind for years wondering why we were lying, trying to figure out what happened.” She stopped suddenly and wrapped her arms around herself as if to shield her heart from the truth.
Kane let out his breath. She hadn’t killed Harley, not that he’d ever thought she was involved, but he’d known she’d lied to him. To the world. And she didn’t even know why.
“It’s . . . it’s my fault,” Tessa said, her voice weak.
“No, Tessa, don’t—”
“Shut up, Randa, you’ve been taking the fall for this for years and protecting me.”
Tessa? The killer?
Tessa rammed both hands through her short blond hair. “I was drunk and with Weston that night. We were in the pool house when Randa walked in on us and went ballistic.”
“I should have killed him,” Randa said.
“Randa tried to break us up, to tell me what a loser he was, but I’d had a lot to drink and he’d come to me and . . . and . . . oh, shit, I was always a fool around him, you know that.”
Claire didn’t comment, just stared at her youngest sister.
“I couldn’t take it,” Miranda said. “Weston had already nearly raped me in his office. I got out by kicking him in the crotch, so when I found him with Tessa, I saw red. I tried to break them up and Weston . . . he decided to teach me a lesson, so . . . oh, God . . .” Her voice trembled. “. . . so when I attacked him, he came undone and he . . . he . . . Claire, he raped me so brutally that I . . .”
“She miscarried,” Tessa whispered.
Kane’s hand curled into fists. His stomach knotted.
Claire didn’t move. “Miscarried?”
“I was pregnant with Hunter’s baby.”
“Oh, Randa!” Claire walked behind Randa’s chair, fell to her knees, and hugged her sister fiercely. “I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”
“That’s not all,” Tessa added. “I just watched him do it to her. I was too drunk, too stunned to do anything but watch as he hit her and kicked her, tore her clothes off her, threw her across the sofa, and dropped his pants and . . . and . . . Oh Randa, I’m so sorry, so damned sorry.”
“Shhh.”
Bile rose in Kane’s throat, and he thought he’d be sick. If he ever saw Weston Taggert again, he’d personally coldcock the bastard, then choke the life from him. And that was just the warm-up.
“I—I was so upset that when I could get my legs to work, I chased Weston down,” Tessa said. “Only when I got to the Taggert estate, I saw him leave again.” She took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I followed him to the marina.”
“Oh, God.”
“Tessa, don’t,” Miranda said, her eyes flying open. “This isn’t smart.”
“But it’s the truth, damn it. I thought I was following Weston onto the boat, but it was dark and I was drunk and . . . and he was looking the other way, and I guess I thought Harley was Weston, so I hit him, with a rock I’d picked up and he turned . . . and it was Harley and . . . and he fell over the railing. I didn’t mean . . . I wouldn’t . . .” She started crying and coughing. “I saw him struggling, flailing but . . . but he couldn’t swim. It was like he was trapped and . . . and . . . Oh God . . . I ran. I left him there. I . . . I . . .”
“No,” Claire whispered, pain cracking her voice. “No. No. No.”
“I found her walking home, dazed, still holding the rock,” Miranda cut in, her voice surprisingly steady. “She told me what happened, I called nine-one-one anonymously from a phone booth, but the police were already there because someone on another boat saw his body. Anyway, I drove home and we found you.”
“And the blood on your skirt was from the baby?”
“Yes,” Miranda whispered. “Hunter’s baby.”
