After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 157

Cassie said, “They have to find the nurse. Maybe she could lead us to Allie, tell us why she told me Allie was okay.”

“You’re certain she was talking about Allie?” Jenna asked quietly. “That Allie was alive?”

“Yes, I told you that—” Cassie stopped short. Wasn’t that what the nurse had said? What she’d meant? Or had Belva Nelson, who had been present at the birth of Jenna’s first child, been talking about that other sister, the half-sibling Cassie hadn’t known existed? Her gaze crashed with her mother’s and she understood that Jenna’s thoughts had traveled down that same unfamiliar road.

Cassie felt as if her world were shrinking into a deep, dark hole. Had the nurse actually said Allie’s name? She thought hard to that ethereal night in the hospital when the woman had seemingly appeared, like a ghost from the past. The dreamlike conversation wasn’t clear. “Oh . . . God . . . I think . . . I mean I’m pretty sure she was talking about Allie.”

But she wasn’t certain. Not a hundred percent.

“I don’t remember,” she said and her own voice sounded strangled. Had she held on to the old nurse’s words, believing she was talking about Allie, when really, that was only because at the time, Allie was the only sister she knew, the only sibling in Cassie’s world?

Jenna picked up her glass and took another drink.

“I think she was talking about Allie, Mom. Why would she tell me about someone I didn’t even know existed?” She felt wounded and raw inside and Jenna recognized it.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Jenna said, setting down her drink and looking her daughter in the eye. “I hope to God I’m wrong about this. I hope my other daughter is somewhere safe, with a loving husband and kids and . . . and that she has nothing to do with any of what’s happening.” Stiffening her spine, she added, “Even considering that she may be a part of this seems like a betrayal. To her. To you. To all of us.”

Carter’s eyes turned dark. “You’ve got to quit beating yourself up about it.” Again, he hugged her and she looked up at the ceiling in her fight to regain control of her emotions.

Cassie was fighting her own instinct of denial. Another sister? An older half-sister she’d never heard of? She wanted to think this was all wrong, but staring at her mother, witnessing Jenna’s guilt and despair, she understood the worry, was infected with her mother’s fears. She grabbed her husband’s calloused hand. “Trent’s right. We don’t know anything, not yet.”

Jenna offered the tiniest of smiles, one without any real warmth. “Look, you need to get going. I don’t want to keep you, but I just wanted you to hear this from me. Not from someone else or a cheap tabloid or on . . . on stupid mystery week on a cable channel.”

“So wait. Whitney Stone does know about this?” Cassie sensed her mother was holding back, probably protecting her again. “Shane?” she asked, eyeing her stepfather.

“You’d better let her know everything,” he advised his wife, and Jenna sighed.

“Mom?”

“It’s nothing. Just . . . well, Whitney Stone left me a pointed voice mail.” Jenna found the chair where she’d tossed her purse and after sitting down plucked her cell from a side pocket. After scrolling through her messages she found the one she wanted and hit the speaker button. A second later the reporter’s voice was audible.

“This is Whitney Stone again. I would appreciate a call back. Sooner rather than later. You know I’m working on the next episode for Justice: Stone Cold, and I would love to interview you. It really would be in your best interest. I’ve done a little digging into your life and I would love your input before the program airs. Some of the information I’ve found is private, I realize, but I still think the public, your fans, would love to learn about you, and your life before you became a star.” A pause. As if she was constructing her thought. “To be clear, I’m not talking about the whitewashed version that your publicist spins, but the real truth. Your fans want to know who you are. The real Jenna Hughes.” Another pause. Then, “So please, call me.”