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Chapter Thirty-Six

KAT

I’m back from Virginia. My realtor called and told me an offer had been made on the brownstone. It wasn’t a bad offer, but it could be better. So, I make a counteroffer. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Every breath I take hurts my soul. My life has been a total lie. I have no idea who I am anymore.

I pull up Dr. Burton’s number and call his office.

“Dr. Burton’s office. This is Beth. How can I help you?”

“Beth, this is Katherine Tate. I need to see Dr. Burton as soon as possible. It’s an emergency.”

“Hold one moment, Mrs. Tate.” Elevator music filters through the phone, intensifying the migraine I already have. “Mrs. Tate, Dr. Burton said he can see you in an hour.”

“Thank you.” I let out a breath. “Thank you so much.”

Dr. Burton will help me. He'll know what to do after I tell him everything I discovered. I sit on the couch and lay my head back to try to relieve this excruciating headache. I open my eyes and jump up when I see that my appointment with Dr. Burton is in fifteen minutes .

“Shit,” I say, slipping on my boots and coat and grabbing my purse.

I’m five minutes late as I burst through the door.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Burton. I fell asleep. I have this killer headache.”

“It’s okay, Katherine. Have a seat. What is this emergency?”

I kick off my shoes and sit crisscross applesauce on the couch. I lower my head and stare at the stain I managed to get on my pants.

“Katherine?” Dr. Burton says.

“I discovered that my parents, Bradley and Caroline, are not my biological parents. They adopted me when I was five after I watched my birth mother stab my father twenty-two times because he cheated on her.”

“Excuse me, what?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion, his face scrunching up as he tries to comprehend the situation.

“My mother killed my father and then went to prison to serve life but only made it to ten before she hung herself in her cell.”

“Jesus, Katherine.” He places his hand on his head. “I can’t believe this. How did you find out?”

“Detective Walker did some extensive research and told me. Then, I flew to Virginia and talked to the lead detective in charge of the case twenty-five years ago. Dr. Burton, everything I thought I knew is a lie,” my voice trembles, and suddenly, I let out a bitter laugh. “What a crock of shit my life turned out to be. I’m thirty years old, almost killed, my two husbands were murdered, my mother was a raving psychopath, my adopted parents lied to me, and I’m completely alone. Where’s my happily ever after? Where’s this amazing life my parents promised I would have? ”

“After everything you’ve been through, it’s easy to fall into that mindset. It sounds like your adoptive parents set out to protect you in every possible way.”

“Someone is out there killing the men in my life, Dr. Burton. I have no one to protect me.”

After our lengthy conversation that seemed to fly by, I finally left his office, my emotional state no different than when I first entered. My steps were sluggish and weighted down with disappointment, each one a struggle as I made my way out of the building. I couldn't help but feel defeated and drained. Our discussion left me feeling uncertain about the future—my future.

I arrive home and set my purse down. Walking into the kitchen, I open the refrigerator and grab a yogurt. As I turn to grab a spoon from the drawer, I see a sealed envelope sitting on the island.

“What the hell is this,” I quietly ask, picking it up.

I open it and take out the folded piece of paper with a key taped to it and the words:

622 W. 51 st Street

#165

Safe lock: 4266519