The Sisters' Secrets: Rose

  About the Author

  KATLYN DUNCAN grew up in a small town in New England, but her head was always in the clouds. She wanted to travel and see the world but was happy enough to write her own characters and live through them. Katlyn started writing at a young age and never really stopped. Even if she wasn’t writing a novel or a movie script, she was jotting down ideas in her journal or on Post-it notes. She never thought (even though she dreamed) they would lead to her actually becoming published someday. One of her proudest moments was winning $50 for a writing contest in sixth grade. And Katlyn bought her very own television with it. In that same grade, one of her most influential teachers taught her that reading was an escape and she hopes she can bring that to her readers as well.

  Katlyn currently lives in lower New England, a quick train ride to New York City, with her husband and adorable wheaten terrier in a Victorian fixer-upper.

  Readers love Katlyn Duncan

  ‘I will definitely be reading more from this author again.’

  ‘Engaging and thought provoking.’

  ‘I was completely glued from page one and didn’t want to put it down.’

  Also by Katlyn Duncan

  The Life After Trilogy: Soul Taken

  The Life After Trilogy: Soul Possessed

  The Life After Trilogy: Soul Betrayed

  This Summer

  This Christmas

  Darkest Dawn

  As You Lay Sleeping

  Six Little Secrets

  The Sisters’ Secrets: Rose

  KATLYN DUNCAN

  HQ

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

  Copyright © Katlyn Duncan 2018

  Katlyn Duncan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  E-book Edition © October 2018 ISBN: 9780008314903

  Version: 2018-09-03

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Readers Love Katlyn Duncan

  Also by Katlyn Duncan

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Acknowledgements

  The Next Book From Katlyn Duncan Is Coming in January 2019

  Dear Reader

  Keep Reading …

  About the Publisher

  For Mom.

  Thanks for being the first reader for all my books. I was waiting for a good one to dedicate to you and I hope this one conveys how much I appreciate and love you.

  Prologue

  Rosemary knew it wasn’t the morning when her eyes cracked open. The waves crashing against the shore were louder than ever. The darkness in her bedroom might have affected some people, but not her, not at that moment. Moonlight filtered through her curtains, billowing them as if ghosts danced under the sheer white fabric. She narrowed her eyes slightly, sharpening the edges of the furniture in her room.

  Damp sheets clung to her body, and the taste of the salt in the air filled her mouth. She pulled her hair back and rolled it around her hand, tugging the thick strands off her neck.

  According to the fish clock hanging from the wall, it was 11.22 p.m.

  Why was she awake?

  Maybe a sound from outside woke her up? Her body tensed. Was someone about to rob them? She heard Reen in the back of her head: ‘Don’t be such a worrywart.’

  She stood up, ready to alert Mom and Dad. But Mom didn’t sleep so well. Waking her up for no reason would make for a rough day tomorrow. It was the weekend, and she was sure that Mom would be miserable if she disrupted her sleep in any way.

  She flattened one leg of her shorts, her fingers brushing against the fresh scratches on her knees. Reen played harder lately, and Rose was up for the challenge.

  Then, she heard it.

  This splash was different from the rhythmic movement of the ocean outside of her house – the background noise of her life.

  She strained to hear the voices that filled her ears. Two people spoke in hushed tones. Both were female.

  Mom?

  Padding across the room, she flung open the curtains. The dark mass of water making up her front yard reached out to the infinite sea.

  No one was on the beach. Rose strained to hear and place the voices. The binoculars, from Dad for her tenth birthday, sat on the desk. If she could figure out what was going on, there was no need to alert her parents. Besides, there was no way that she was going back to sleep after this.

  She lifted the binoculars and peered through them. No one came out to the private beaches of The Burrow unless they were looking for trouble. She at least wanted to tell Dad what was happening.

  Then she saw it. Something reflected off the water. The white light flickered several times before blinking out entirely.

  She couldn’t make out the words around the whispers, but they intensified. A tugging sensation in her stomach forced her to put her binoculars on the sill and propelled her to climb over and onto the wooden patio.

  Whispers, faint and teasing, reached all corners of her mind. The voices were familiar yet, bizarre.

  Rose pinched her arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Sharp, biting pain radiated over her skin.

  Definitely not dreaming.

  As her feet pressed into the soft sand, she tilted her head to the side to listen for the whispers.

  They were gone.

  She stood straighter and peered into the distance. It might have been a good idea to bring the binoculars, but she had an idea where she’d seen the flickering light. If she went back, she might miss what she was looking for.

  The water pulled the sand from under her feet as she walked over the surf. The cool liquid over her skin warmed the chill in her spine. Water did that to her.

  That same pulling sensation tugged at her chest, beckoning her forward.

  She walked further until the ocean touched her ankles, then her knees, and stopped when it reached her chest. Her foot outlined the familiar dip in the ocean floor.

  One more step and she wouldn’t be walking anymore.

  With a glance over her shoulder, she pushed forward.

  The shock of the water at her shoulders stung like a t
housand little needles prickling her skin. The salty water seeped into her mouth. Her arms moved to her sides and her legs kicked out as she treaded water.

  There were no other sounds around her, not even the whispers.

  Even though she felt at home in the water, the creepiness of the situation snapped her back to reality.

  What am I doing out here?

  Her heart hammered in her ears as she kicked her feet to find the ledge again. The second her toes brushed against what she thought was the ledge, she cupped her hands, pushing forward.

  As soon as she touched the sandy ocean floor, something slick wrapped around her ankle and pulled.

  Rose’s entire body went under, and water flooded her mouth and nose. Pumping her arms, she was desperate to find the surface. Her hand broke through, and she kicked as hard as she could.

  When the night air touched her cheeks, she gasped. She barely had time to fill her lungs before she went under again. Her lungs burned as she fought against the force that threatened to pull her further into the water.

  Whatever held on to her was strong. Brackish water filled her vision. Black spots blinked in her eyes, and she needed, more than anything, to find the strength to swim to the surface. Her life depended on it.

  The slick seaweed tightened around her ankle, searing her skin. Since it wasn’t letting her go, she reached down to try and snap it from the root.

  Her body stilled, frozen by the icicles in her veins as realization flooded her.

  It wasn’t seaweed.

  The scaly and cylindrical rounded object burned against her leg and it was about to drag her to the watery depths of the ocean.

  Her pulse spiked. Instead of fighting it, she tried to untangle it from around her ankle. Fire raged in her lungs. She kicked with all her might, attempting to get to the surface.

  Swimming was something that Rose knew how to do. Growing up on the beach had honed her skills. It was hard to focus under duress, but she tried.

  Grasping her last bit of energy before the blackness took over, Rose pushed once more for the surface. But it was futile. She was going to die in the ocean. Her mind went hazy for a moment as she started to give up, allowing her arms and legs to still.

  That was until two arms wrapped around her and hoisted her to the surface. The first thing she did was inhale the salty air. Water crashed around her, but something splashed nearby. It was coming back for her.

  ‘Swim, honey,’ Mom said.

  Rose’s legs were weak, and her ankle throbbed. She wanted to check herself out, but instinct won. Even though she didn’t have much strength left, she clawed for the shore.

  Once Rose collapsed on the sand, a figure came into view. It was Mom, walking out of the ocean, wearing her now see-through nightgown. It clung to her body as if it were a part of her skin.

  Mom knelt next to Rose and pulled her onto her lap.

  Rose trembled in her mother’s arms. How did she know I needed help?

  Mom’s eyes bulged, and she drew Rose up against her chest, squeezing out most of the air in her lungs. ‘I’m so sorry, Rose.’

  The weight of almost drowning pressed against Rose’s body, and she choked out a sob as she fisted the wet fabric of her shirt.

  I’m alive.

  The lapping water reached Rose’s feet, and she curled her legs closer to her body.

  Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, but they weren’t hers.

  Chapter 1

  The shrill brrring of Rose’s phone cut through the otherwise silent kitchen. Her hand shot out, nearly spilling the coffee from her mug.

  Two brown dots marked her khaki pants. ‘Dammit!’ So much for enjoying a quiet breakfast. Shuffling across the room, she grabbed her phone from the counter by the door.

  The second she saw the name, her heart sank. Quickly swiping the screen, she brought the phone to her ear. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Rose Barros?’ the nasally voice enquired.

  Rose placed her clammy hand on her forehead. ‘Yes, this is she.’ There’s a problem. If they’re calling me, there must be.

  ‘This is Jessie. I’m a CNA at the Whinding House.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Rose asked.

  ‘I wanted to inform you that your mother had a fall this morning.’

  A breath caught in Rose’s throat.

  ‘She’s okay,’ Jessie continued before Rose could ask. ‘But we’re required to inform you.’

  ‘Was she injured?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Nothing life-threatening,’ she said. ‘A sprained wrist. One of our staff was helping her out of bed, and she lost her footing.’

  Thank God she’s not hurt too badly. The digital clock on the microwave read 8.15 a.m. ‘Should I come over there?’ It would have to be a quick visit before her shift started.

  ‘There’s no need, I –’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ Rose said, hanging up.

  Flicking her finger across her phone screen, she went to her Favorites and pressed her thumb over Missy’s name. While the dial tone trilled in her ear, Rose grabbed her half-eaten slice of toast and stuffed another bite into her mouth before rinsing off the plate.

  Missy’s voice came after the fourth ring. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hey, it’s me,’ Rose said through the food in her mouth.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to be late,’ Missy said.

  Rose cringed. ‘Mom had a fall last night.’

  ‘Shit,’ Missy said. ‘All right, I got you covered.’

  ‘I’m going to try and make it in time. As long as traffic isn’t bad –’

  ‘Take your time, Rosie,’ Missy said.

  Rose sighed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘See you soon,’ Missy said then hung up.

  Being best friends with her boss had a few perks. Even though she hated to be late for anything, Pearl’s fall was an unknown wrench in her plan.

  Good thing Rose got up early that morning. Instead of rushing to change, she ignored the small coffee stain on her pants – she’d get more than that at work – and grabbed her keys from the basket next to the fridge.

  As it did most days, the photograph on the freezer door caught her eye. A couple with two young girls smiled back at her. They stood in front of the house she’d grown up in. Rose reached out and smoothed her finger over Dad’s face and then focused on the little dark-haired girl with the devious glint in her eyes. Her arm wrapped around little Rose’s shoulders, holding her close. She’d kept the picture as a reminder of simpler times when her family was a strong unit and not broken by hard times.

  To call Reen or not…that was the question. Reen hadn’t been involved in any decisions when it came to Pearl’s future. There wasn’t time for an argument, not this early in the morning.

  Telling her sister about Mom’s fall wasn’t going to help heal their rift. In fact, it was an invitation to a different conversation, one that they’d had ad nauseam.

  Instead, Rose pushed the thought out of her mind and headed for the door. Humid air caught in her throat, but there were looming gray clouds in the distance. Not wanting to take any more chances with her clothes before work, she grabbed her jacket, slinging it over her shoulder and went outside.

  The ride over to the Whinding House was mostly uneventful. The annual Mermaid Festival kicked off later that week, and preparations were underway.

  In the 1800s, there were rumors of mermaids living off the coast of The Burrow. Sailors and fishers weaved stories of the beautiful half-human, half-fish creatures who took lonely men to the deep. Sometimes the townsfolk blamed the creatures for ill weather and sinking ships. The rumors stuck around for a long time until one of the townspeople came up with the idea to honor the mermaids, instead of fearing them.

  After the first festival, the story goes that no more men fled from their homes to answer the siren call and the fishers were prosperous for years to come. The town kept the tradition alive, even though it became a fruitful time for the businesses on land instead of those that relied on th
e water for their livelihoods.

  Rose thanked whoever watched over her that there wasn’t traffic yet. She had a slim window of time to get to work before Missy.

  The parking lot was mostly empty, other than the vans that transported the non-memory-care residents on day trips or to appointments.

  Rose parked closest to The Cottage, the red brick building under lockdown at the back of the property. When she chose a place for Pearl to live the rest of her life, Rose hadn’t taken anything lightly.

  The beautifully renovated Victorian house at the front of the complex had been a welcome sight, but the cost of the care was much more than she could afford. While Mom’s insurance helped, extra hours working at The Siren restaurant and renting her childhood home were the only ways she could get Mom the care she needed.

  Flinging open the door to the building, Rose charged inside to the front desk.

  The receptionist, Tina, glanced up from her computer. She eyed Rose over her black-rimmed glasses. ‘I had a feeling I’d see you today.’

  Tina knew everything going on in The Cottage. If Rose hadn’t played at her house as a child, she would have sworn Tina slept under her desk.

  ‘You know me,’ Rose said.

  ‘I do,’ she said.

  Ignoring the pity in Tina’s eyes was hard. There was no reason for anyone to feel bad for her. She wasn’t the one locked in this place.

  Rose went through the motions, signing in to the guest log before walking over to the double doors behind Tina’s desk. She punched in the code on the small keypad to unlock the doors.

  Once inside, the scent of bleach and cleaning solutions stung her nose. With her weekly visits over the last few months, that scent replaced the memory of Mom’s floral perfume that she’d worn for as long as Rose knew her. Now every time Rose cleaned the apartment, she automatically thought of Pearl. The mother she’d locked away.