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But as it had with Andrew, the McTavish name and fortune wrapped around me, buttressing me as I glided through the inquest, the interviews, the implications. Before I knew it, I was back at Ashby House as though nothing had changed.
Ihad changed, though.
If Andrew’s death had proven to me that I was as monstrous as I’d always feared, Roddy’s made me decide it might be time to find out why that was.
Why did dealing out death come so easily to me? Why, with the exception of Andrew, had I never felt true guilt over it? Duke, I could justify to myself. He had abused me, no doubt would have continued doing so, and in that initial moment, I had genuinely been fearful for my life. But Hugh had been nothing more than annoying; Roddy, a mistake I could’ve easily undone without ending his life. And Andrew… even Andrew, I could’ve left, though it would have broken my heart. We could have split amicably; I could have set him free to wander the world with my secrets, secrets I knew he wouldn’t tell.
And yet.
It was then that my mind once again turned to autumn 1943, when I was snatched from the woods surrounding Ashby House to spend eight months with the Darnells of Alabama.
I couldn’t remember any of it, but it was a trauma that had to be locked inside of me, and might, I thought, be the explanation for this darkness in my soul. Had something happened to me in those eight months, something that hadturned me into this woman without a heart? Or—that old buried fear, resurfacing yet again—was it because Iwasn’tthe real Ruby? Could I possibly be the lost Dora, just like the Darnells had always claimed?
I decided to find out.
It took longer than I’d thought, darling, and it’s a long story to tell. Too long for tonight, in any case.
I know, I know. This is the bit you’re the most interested in, but patience, darling.
As I told you, that was one of the qualities Roddy was most lacking in, and you see what happened to him.
-R
TRAGEDY IN CATALINA
Roddy Kenmore, heir to the Texas oil fortune, DROWNS off coast of Catalina just TWO MONTHS after marrying NOTORIOUS HEIRESS Ruby McTavish Callahan Woodward Miller!
Friends claim Cursed Heir was sailing buff who, ironically, NEVER learned to SWIM.
“Roddy was FUN, but he was kind of a dumb-a**,” says University Chum who wishes to remain ANONYMOUS.
Only RECENTLY WED to Mrs. McTavish (20+ years his senior), the OIL HEIR had purchased a yacht that was regularly the scene of WILD PARTIES and RUMOURED DRUG USE, according to sources in the Catalina Island area.
The TRAGIC NIGHT unfolded just a few miles from shore with no one save MR. AND MRS. KENMORE on the ship at the time.
“Ruby really wanted Roddy to settle down,” claims a friend of the MUCH WIDOWED HEIRESS. “I think that night was really about giving them a chance to be alone, just the two of them. She couldn’t have known what would happen.”
Other friends wonder just how one woman could be SO UNLUCKY in love!
“Mrs. Kenmore? More like MRS. KILL-MORE,” says one marina employee!
—The National Enquirer,July 10, 1985
CHAPTER THIRTEENCamden
For a few seconds, just the space of a couple of heartbeats, really, a stunned silence hangs over the table. It feels good, watching the wind visibly slip from their sails, and I savor it more than the expensive champagne in my glass.
Then I feel Jules’s hand on mine.
Her expression is stricken, her skin pale, and any satisfaction at getting one over on the McTavishes drains out of me in an instant.
I should have told her. I know that. I had plenty of chances before now, and ever since Nathan’s phone call this afternoon, I’ve known this was coming. But something held me back.
No, not something. Someone.
Ruby.
“You knew,” Ben says, and I squeeze Jules’s fingers, pleading with my eyes for her to understand before I turn to look at Ben.
