FATAL DECEPTIONS Read online

  Fatal Deceptions

  Behind Closed Doors: Family Secrets

  Cindy Gerard

  Fatal Deceptions

  Copyright © 2020 by Cindy Gerard

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without specific written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

  Published by Daug Haus Publishing

  Print Edition ISBN: 9798694958349

  Digital Edition AISN: B08C3VW46N

  First Edition 2020, Printed in the USA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This book is dedicated to the United States Military who protect and serve. Without your many sacrifices, we would not be the free nation we are today.

  Special thanks Former U.S. Army Captain Shawn Burrows, for being an all around good guy (and my great nephew) and for helping me out with terminology. Love you, buddy.

  Contents

  FamilySecrets.Life

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  familysecrets.life

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  familysecrets.life

  Sneak Peek

  Behind Closed Doors: Family Secrets Series

  About the Author

  Also by Cindy Gerard

  Don’t Miss StormWatch

  Don’t Miss Breakdown

  FamilySecrets.Life

  What seems too good to be true often is. And when that false goodness erodes to grisly lies, the monster of doubt becomes the enemy.

  familysecrets.life

  Chapter One

  Rachael’s phone started playing the Outlander theme just as she was buckling Addie and her bulky pink snowsuit into her car seat.

  Cassie.

  “Sit tight, punkin’.” She smiled at her tired and a bit cranky daughter and wrestled her phone out of her purse. “Momma’s got to take this.”

  Rachael was tired and borderline cranky herself. The clouds hung heavy as darkness began to fall, and it had started to snow which meant slippery streets driving from Addie’s daycare to home. It had already been a long day, but Cassie didn’t call often and it had been a while since they’d talked.

  She got caught up, though, for just a few seconds as she took in the wonder of her eighteen-month-old child – every inch of her, her daddy. The blond hair, the blue eyes. The quick sweet smiles. Addie hadn’t inherited one thing from her momma. Not Rachael’s red hair. Not her freckles. Not her fair skin. Addie was her daddy through and through. And Rachael loved every inch of both of them.

  She finally managed to pick up on the sixth ring, just before the call went to voice mail. “Hey, Cass.”

  “Hi, Rach. How you doin’, sweetie?”

  Rachael heard something other than normal interest in Cassie’s tone and tried to interpret what it meant. Concern? Sympathy? It felt like more than your basic ‘checking in on you’ voice. “I’m fine. How are things with you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed and seemed to stretch on forever.

  “So, what’s up, Cass?” She finally prompted, forcing a smile for Addie and brushing a blond curl away from her daughter’s forehead.

  “Have you … have you talked to Mac?” Cassie asked, with a hesitance that provoked the first real trickle of alarm.

  “Not since last week, why?”

  Mac’s platoon was deployed to Afghanistan. When one of the platoon’s wives called to ask about another wife’s husband, all senses rose to red alert. Just last month, Rachael had had to make ‘the’ call, to relay the bad news that two of the guys had caught shrapnel from a round of artillery fire. Thankfully, both men were going to be okay but they faced some hospital time ahead. She’d dreaded making that call. She was growing more and more certain that she was going to regret receiving this one.

  “Cass…What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Sweetie. I should have waited. I thought you would have heard from Mac by now. I … I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you.”

  Alarm ramped up to fear. “Oh, God. Is Mac okay? Is he hurt?”

  “No. No. He’s not hurt. At least that’s the word.”

  She gripped her phone with both hands, her tension shooting off the charts. Addie sensed it. Her blue bonnet blue eyes grew big and round. Her lower lip started to quiver.

  “It’s okay, baby.” She patted Addie’s thigh, squeezed in assurance, trying to stop what inevitably came next. “Momma’s okay.

  “Then what?” She turned back to Cassie, attempting to keep her voice low and calm for Addie. But the eighteen-month-old’s rosy little cheeks puffed up, her face turned beet red, and huge raindrop tears pooled in her eyes just before she let out a wail that could wake the dead.

  “What’s wrong with Addie?” Cassie couldn’t miss her cries through the phone connection. No one within a mile could miss those heart-wrenching sobs.

  “She’s fine. She’s tired. She knows I’m upset. Cassie, for the love of God, stop stalling. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Addie had ramped up to screaming, and Rachael had to cup her hand over one ear to hear Cassie.

  “It … well, word is that Mac’s gotten himself into some trouble over there.”

  Her heart lurched, uncertain if she’d heard her right. “Mac? What kind of trouble?” Her husband was the last person she would ever associate with that word. Samuel (Mac) McKenzie had always been a ‘toe the line’, military sharp, quintessential soldier. He was an officer. A 1st Lieutenant now. Platoon leader. In trouble? No.

  Addie’s ear-piercing screams tripled Rachael’s anxiety. Lord, that child had a pair of lungs.

  “Cassie, hold on a sec.” Bussing a kiss on Addie’s forehead and making sure her car seat straps were tight, she scrambled out of the car and shut the door behind her. With Addie’s crying muffled, she could hear – and think. “Now what’s going on?”

  Seconds later, she wished she hadn’t been able to hear her.

  A full minute after they disconnected, Rachael finally climbed back into the rear seat of their compact SUV, unbuckled her daughter and drew her into her arms.

  And held her.

  Held her until they both stopped crying.

  The sunshine was too bright. Too cheery. Just …too much. It glinted through the trees and reflected off patches of ice melting on the road, painting a far too optimistic picture. The day was completely out of step with the gray mood Rachael had carried with her for the six long days since Cassie’s call.

  She backed off on her speed, suddenly aware that she was driving fifteen miles over the limit. Nerves. Excess tension. Her eagernes
s to finally see Mac. They all came into play as she maneuvered the route to Ft. Riley.

  During the many years Mac had been stationed there, she’d driven the fourteen miles from Manhattan, Kansas, to the army base more times than she could count. Knew the route by heart. Up ahead was a spot along the road where faded silk flowers and a small white cross rose from the melting snow, memorializing the site of a fatal accident. Just a mile further, she could push forty-five mph on a tight left curve if the road was clear of ice.

  She also knew the exact spot for the turnoff to nearby Ft. Leavenworth and the United States Disciplinary Barracks maximum-security military prison – one of three prisons located on the Leavenworth property. She’d never had reason to take the turnoff. Until today.

  That was the twist in the routine – the turnoff. The road that led to Leavenworth U.S.D.B. was a road she’d never thought she would travel. And the inside of the prison was something she’d never, in her worst nightmares, expected to see.

  She swallowed a lump of apprehension as she neared the military prison grounds. An aching mix of worry and anxiety clutched her chest as tightly as her hands clutched the steering wheel. The same anxiety that had kept her awake every night since Cassie had called.

  Mac. Her husband. Her lover. The father of her child. He was finally back from Afghanistan. But he wasn’t home. Where he needed to be. Where she and Addie needed him to be.

  He wouldn’t know about the welcome home party she’d been planning for him when his deployment would have been up two months from now. Wouldn’t see their daughter who so, so badly needed her daddy to hold her and sing to her again. Wouldn’t take her to bed and make love to her the way she’d dreamed of for eight long months.

  She wasn’t only afraid for him. She was mad as hell. She should be on her way to pick him up and bring him home. To celebrate his homecoming. To be hers again. But that wasn’t happening today. Based on the little she knew, it might not ever happen.

  As she neared the security checkpoint, she felt overrun by fear that Mac might never be hers again. She still couldn’t grasp it. Mac? Accused of a war crime? The murder of an unarmed Afghan citizen? A non-combatant? No. They were wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

  Cassie may have been the first to call, but she hadn’t been the last. The rumors had clicked down the pipeline among the wives before Mac had even been granted permission to call her. The entire platoon, it seemed, was in shock. And no one had the full story.

  That phone call six days ago was etched in her memory like a scar. But the onslaught of press that had started showing up at her door felt like a fresh wound, nowhere near ready to heal let alone scar over.

  “Mrs. McKenzie. Is it true that your husband killed an unarmed Afghan? A man known to be friendly and provide intelligence for the Army?

  “Have you seen your husband yet, Mrs. McKenzie? Has he admitted to the murder?”

  “How old is your little girl? Can we get a picture? What will it be like with your husband behind bars at Christmas?”

  “Do you anticipate they’ll ask for life in prison at his court-martial?”

  They were like piranha, every one of them, wanting to sink their teeth into a piece of her flesh. Christmas was still a couple of weeks away. Mac would be home by then. She knew it. She believed it. She had to believe it or she wasn’t going to get through this.

  Breathing deeply to get herself under control again, she pulled up to the security checkpoint. A military guard stepped out of the small cement block building. He squinted against the brilliant morning sunshine and bent down to speak with her. “Morning, ma’am. You have business here today?”

  She looked up at the guard as he leaned down toward her window. He was young, sober and all business. A private. Serious about his duties.

  “I’m here to visit a … prisoner.”

  “Are you expected?” He didn’t blink an eye. Didn’t ‘get it’ that just saying the word ‘prisoner’ in association with her husband sent shock waves coursing through her body.

  Somehow she managed to nod. “My name should be on the approved visitor’s list.”

  Managing to get her name on that list had been no small feat. When Mac had finally called, he’d only been allowed to share the basics. He was in the brig. He was accused of a murder. They were shipping him home next week. He’d given her the names of a few officers who might be able to help.

  ‘Next week’ had passed in a blur of frustration and fear and more tears as she’d made one unproductive phone call after another. All the contacts, all the friends she and Mac had made on the base over the years – none of them could help her find out more information. They’d tapped their superior officers. Gotten nothing. Loose lips sink ships. How well she knew that mentality.

  She’d bullied and begged and badgered and finally gotten through to the company commander who’d reluctantly granted permission for her to get in to see him.

  “I’ll need two forms of ID, please.”

  The guard’s voice shocked her back to the moment. She’d already pulled the IDs out of her purse and handed them over, hoping he didn’t notice how badly her hand was shaking.

  He scanned them both, gave her a quick glance to compare photos, then handed them back to her while warm air from the heater leaked out her open window.

  “Thank you, ma’am. The parking lot’s up and to your right,” he said, again, so polite and so professional she wanted to scream at his composure. She’d lost hers the day she’d received the phone call that had changed their lives.

  Chapter Two

  Except for two military vehicles, the black asphalt parking lot was empty. Rachael parked across from the prison building, braced herself, then got out of the SUV. When she turned, it was to face the menacing sight of the brown brick and gray stone structure that was the U.S. military’s only maximum security prison. The building was all sharp edges and various levels. It was also cold and harsh and unwelcoming, as, no doubt, it was intended to be.

  Despite the warmth of the sun, she wrapped her coat tightly around her to stall the winter chill then walked on unsteady legs across the lot to the sidewalk. She hesitated a moment at the door then walked into the building. It smelled industrial and harsh and if despair had a scent, this would be it.

  She couldn’t have hidden her tension if she’d tried as she moved awkwardly through the hoops of the visitation admission process. Thirty nerve-wracking minutes later, she placed her purse, phone, and coat into a metal basket that she was told would be locked away for security purposes.

  “Everything will be returned to you when you leave.” The middle-aged woman behind a glassed-in counter was also in uniform. The faintest whiff of a sweet, soft perfume said more about her than her expression as she handled the exchange with a detached professionalism that said she’d done it a million times and was bored by it. “Sergeant Eagan will escort you.”

  Sergeant Eagan appeared out of nowhere and was waiting patiently behind her.

  “This way, ma’am.”

  Eagan was tall and slender with a baby face and fair complexion. He didn’t look old enough to be a sergeant. That she even noticed surprised her. She was focused on one thing. Seeing Mac.

  As Eagan led her down a well lit hallway painted institutional gray, she had to check herself to keep from flinching each time one of the heavy doors locked behind them with a hard, weighty thud. Every step rang hollow. Each breath hurt.

  “No touching,” Sergeant Eagan warned as he stopped at a door, unlocked it, and stood aside for her to enter.

  It felt surreal. Mac was finally home. Eight months in Afghanistan. Eight months of missing him – and now she couldn’t even touch him.

  Once again she braced herself. Was only vaguely aware that Sergeant Eagan had also entered the small room then closed and locked the door and positioned himself in front of it like a room monitor. Only this was much more intense than school. It didn’t smell of ink and dry eraser boards or the aroma of food drifting down th
e hall from the lunch room.

  It smelled of regret and defeat and desperation.

  She wouldn’t think about that. She’d concentrate on Mac. She’d worn his favorite red sweater. His favorite jeans. The lotion he’d given her for Christmas last year. And she told herself she was prepared.

  She was wrong.

  Her heart stalled then hammered fast and wild when she saw him sitting behind a small, gray metal table, his head down, his hands clasped in front of him.

  Out of uniform.

  She hadn’t thought. She’d envisioned seeing him in his Army BDU as she’d seen him each day when he left the house then came back home. As she’d seen him the day he’d left for Afghanistan in the uniform he was so proud to wear. Instead he wore a black, prison-issue shirt and pants. No rank. None of his ribbons or medals. Only his military haircut said he was a member of the U.S. Army. And she sensed how humiliated he must be because of it.

  Tears filled her eyes. She touched trembling fingers to her lips.

  Mac.

  A slight stiffening of his shoulders was the only indication that he was aware she’d entered the room.

  Breath stalled, she waited for him to look at her. Waited for his beautiful smile. For the blue eyes he’d passed on to his daughter to warm and caress her. To shake his head and say, “Hey. Don’t look so scared, babe. This is a mistake. Huge mistake. I’ll be out of here by the end of the day.”