Finding Katie

Chapter 22

Katie

My mouth fell open. "You know?!" I only just managed to keep my voice down, though it still came out as a poorly supressed shriek as I jumped from the bench.

Bridget reached for my hand, held me back when I would have backed away from her. Smiled weakly, almost sheepishly, when she shrugged.

My mouth opened. Closed. "How?" I finally managed.

"I met your dad once. I used to buy my stash from one of his dealers, and I wanted to know who I was giving all my money too, so I demanded to meet the boss. He agreed to see me, mostly for a good a laugh, I think. He was very pleasant. I liked him."

I didn't resist when Bridget tugged me down to sit beside her again.

"I had just started rehab," she continued, "when the whole disaster with your dad happened, and I followed the story avidly. I used to read every single newspaper article I could find about what had happened."

"How long have you known?"

Bridget's hold on my hand tightened. Almost as if she could sense how close I was to fleeing. "You were familiar the first time I met you, but it took a while before I realized where I'd seen you before; in the photos with your parents in the papers back then. I looked up the old articles online and knew for sure. You look so much like your mother, dearest."

My head started moving slowly from side to side. My breathing was still erratic. "Bridget, I–"

"Don't say you're sorry." I was firmly cut off. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I am."

The woman nudged my shoulder, smiled at me. "I know, my dear. But you didn't make me go out there and buy all that crap. You didn't make me shoot it into my veins. You're a good girl. I've seen how much you care for this place and the people here."

Studying her, I then asked, "Have you..."

"No," Bridget stated without hesitation. "I haven't told a soul and I won't. You have my word on that."

I dragged in a shuddering breath. "Thank you."

She flapped a hand, then straightened with a little wiggle that made her legs swing from the bench. "Now, that man, the one who was just here, he knows too?"

"Yes. His name is Dave Herbert. He used to work for my father. Back then he was David Feltham, and he knew my mother. He's recognized me, too."

"And he's going to tell Ben about you?"

My throat tightened. "Yes."

"Bloody hell."

The expletive from the very proper lady beside me startled a laugh from me. That and the relief that someone knew me. The real me.

It was what I had feared for so long, and yet I felt almost giddy that there was finally someone I could talk freely with without the fear of repercussions. "I have to tell Ben myself," I told her. "I can't let him find out from someone else. I just–" My voice cracked. "I just don't think he's going to forgive me."

"But you didn't choose your father or his profession. No one can blame you for all that old history."

"It isn't just my father. He – Dave – he's made me... do something. To Ben. In exchange for not exposing me."

Bridget's mouth fell open. "He's blackmailing you? The bastard!"

"I usually call him much worse than that." The corners of my lips kicked up, but it didn't last. "Dave told me just now that I have until Monday to do that thing. I haven't so far. I couldn't, and I don't want to now, but if I don't, he's going to destroy Ben's career."