He shot a look at Angie, his features tightening, his eyes pleading with Angie to keep her mouth shut. “If you need me, Shelley,” he said, his gaze still fixed on Angie, “I’ll be right inside.”
Shelley waited for her husband to leave, her lips set in a tight line. As soon as the door clicked shut behind Garrison, Shelley opened her sweater and removed a purple book.
“Take it. Just take it, and get the hell out of our lives, okay?”
Angie’s jaw dropped. She stared at the book, then looked up into Shelley’s eyes.
“Is that what I think it is, Shelley?”
“It’s Jasmine Gulati’s journal. I took it, and now I’m giving it back so you can pack up, go home, and leave us alone.”
CHAPTER 38
Her attention riveted on Shelley’s feverish eyes, Angie reached slowly forward and took the book from the woman.
“How did you get it?” Angie said.
“They brought Jasmine’s belongings up from the campsite to the lodge the morning after she went over the falls. Her stuff was put with the rest of her gear in one of our rooms. Everyone was out searching. I ... saw the purple book from the doorway lying on top of her things. It looked like the journal I’d heard the women mention one evening when I took some supplies to their campsite. I went into the room, closed the door, and opened the journal. Just to take a quick look. I’d seen her with Garrison in the Hook and Gaffe that first night, and I ... I needed to see if she’d written anything about being with my husband. Garrison had denied it, but I ... I still had this feeling.” She pressed her fine-boned hand against her stomach. “Right here.”
“Hadshe written anything?”
Shelley’s eyes turned hard, and her mouth thinned. She grabbed the edges of her big sweater and wrapped them tightly across her thin frame. Her complexion was almost translucent in this light, and it made her freckles stand out harshly. Flecks of snow danced in under the carport and settled upon her wool sleeves.
“Everything—she wrote it all, every tiny detail.” She swallowed hard, rocked in her Ugg boots. “It made me sick to my stomach. She was evil. Everyone knew she was evil—they all said so.”
Angie opened the journal. Inscribed on the first page were the words:
A gift for my love and my lover of story. Tell it, my girl. In your own hand ... with all my heart, Doug.
Angie’s eyes flared up, her heart hammering. “What else is in here?”
“Read it. You’ll see.”
Doug?
Dr.Douglas J.Hart—her mentor and professor, Rachel’s husband—was Jasmine’s lover?It suddenly all started slotting into place. The secrecy about the ring. The clandestine lover. Terminating the pregnancy. Revealing Doug as her lover would have killed Doug’s university career, annihilated his shot at being appointed dean of the faculty. It would have destroyed his marriage to Rachel.
“So you knew?” Angie said. “All these years? That your husband had slept with Jasmine? Why ... why didn’t you speak to him?”
“It was easier, better, for me to pretend it never happened. I don’t expect you to understand. Not talking about it, keeping that journal to myself, made it go away.”
Like Jasmine went away ... A new thought slammed Angie. Her mouth turned dry as she held Shelley’s gaze. “If this diary contains incriminating information about your husband, wouldn’t it have made more sense to get rid of it, burn it or something?”
“Probably. But a part of me wanted collateral. Some control over it all. Something I could use as a bargaining chip with Garrison if I ever needed it.”
“You wanted leverage in case he ever hurt you again?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He’d never want Claire to know, Angie. I ... if I threatened him with showing Claire—”
“You’ddothat? You’d show Claire? You’d hurt your daughter to hurt your husband?”
“No. No, God, no. Just to threaten him. I’d never actually do it.”
Angie stared at Shelley. So frail and pale, so hard inside. So frightened. Very, very softly, Angie said, “You visited the women’s camps in the evening once or twice.”
She nodded.
“Were you there on that last evening, Shelley? Did you follow Jasmine to that bay?”
