“Jeb says the brake lines were definitely cut,” Charlotte said, plopping down on the chair beside him and idly rubbing her belly. “Is that enough to see if the Atlanta PD can pick up Dorsey Lambert again for questioning?”
“Already called them. Lambert’s pulled another disappearing act.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course he did.”
Sammy bit into a chicken wing, suddenly ravenous. “I want you to see something,” he said as he dug into his meal. He pushed the computer monitor toward Charlotte. “Click on that video.”
She watched the three-minute video with a puzzled frown. “So who are these people? What’s going down here?”
“It’s Aiden Wynngate, Beth’s stepbrother. He’s talking to Tommy Raden, a well-known Atlanta criminal with suspected ties to the mafia.”
Charlotte peered more closely and leaned forward as though trying to pick out the men’s conversation from the background noise of automobiles. “No better audio with this, I’m assuming?”
“None. Atlanta PD has been following Raden as part of a sting operation. I asked if I could review any recent video or audio of criminals suspected of bribing judges and politicians.”
“To see if you could catch Lambert talking to one and collaborate his story?” she asked.
“Yep. Imagine my surprise to find Aiden on my screen.”
“What do you suppose it means?”
He wiped his hands and swilled iced tea before answering. “Good question. I know the guy well, or I used to. We were friends growing up.”
“But you aren’t now?” Charlotte was always quick on the uptake.
“Not since he left for college and I went to work in this place.” He shrugged. “Different worlds. We drifted apart.”
She tapped the side of her jaw with her index finger, studying him as he resumed digging into the fried chicken. “Do you think he’s in league with Lambert to hurt Beth? And if so, what’s in it for him?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“What can I do to help?” she asked, always ready to get down to business.
“Nothing. I’ve fished around, trolling for the usual information. I’m waiting on some emails to come in. You go on home. If I need you, I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.”
Charlotte slowly rose to her feet, wobbled a moment and then swiped a hand across her brow. He frowned. “You need me to call James to come pick you up? Or I could give you a ride home.”
She shook her head. “I can drive myself home. See you in the morning.”
He watched as she slowly made her way to the lobby, wondering if the baby had decided to make an early appearance. Wouldn’t surprise him if James called in the morning announcing the arrival of a baby. It was times like this that reminded Sammy just how alone in the world he’d become over the years. One by one, all of his closest friends had gotten married and most were now raising children.
Sammy mentally shrugged off the disquieting thought. He had plenty of time to muse on his life choices later. Right now, he needed to solve this puzzle of Aiden and his contact with Raden. Aiden was a criminal attorney now, so it was possible Raden was a client. Could there be more to it than just an attorney-client relationship, though?
Could Aiden be responsible for any of the attempts on Beth’s life? The question went round and round in his mind. Sammy stood and paced the office, ruminating over dark, dangerous possibilities.
At least Beth was protected for the moment. It had taken lots of persuading, but she’d agreed to spend the night with Lilah. Harlan’s place was as good as a safe house. By morning, Cynthia would be ousted from the Falling Rock home and kicked back to Atlanta.
With something of a shock, he realized night had crept up on him. Most of the downtown shops were closed and under the yellow streetlamp beams. The only people out and about were a few coming and going from the diner.
His computer dinged, signaling an incoming email. He hurried back to his desk and saw he had missed several messages. He opened the first one and scanned the bank records he’d requested. Thankfully, he was able to access them because of the ongoing criminal probe of Raden. The numbers confirmed why Aiden had sought a loan from Beth. Both his personal and business accounts had bounced checks and had huge outstanding credit card balances from extravagant expenditures and high rent.
Next, Sammy turned to the message from his friend at the Elmore County Courthouse. After scrolling through pages of legalese he found the bottom line—Judge Wynngate had left seventy percent of his estate to Beth and thirty percent to his wife. It wasn’t unusual to see children inherit the majority of an estate upon a person’s second marriage, but Cynthia might not have viewed the terms in such a light. Perhaps she was determined to gain the rest of the inheritance she believed rightly belonged to her and not Beth? And if she was, she might have recruited her son in the effort.
He mopped his face with a hand and sighed. Beth’s accidental discovery of Cynthia talking to her lover might have saved her life. His thoughts went deeper, darker. Did Cynthia have anything to do with her husband’s unexpected heart attack? He made a note to check the hospital records in the morning before that office closed for the holiday and speak with the attending physician of record. Not much hope that would reveal anything, though. If there’d been any suspicion of foul play there would have been an autopsy and the sheriff’s department would have been asked to investigate.
With no more avenues to explore, Sammy gazed out the window, absently tapping his pencil on the desktop. He briefly considered dropping by Harlan’s place and asking Beth to spend the night with him instead. No. He was being selfish and paranoid. She’d looked so tired and haggard when he’d driven her there from the hospital after the wreck, Lilah’s fierce nurturing mode had kicked in. She’d immediately embraced Beth and led her inside, fussing over her. Once Beth was seated, Lilah had immediately placed a pillow behind her back, pulled a blanket over her legs, and demanded Beth rest while she cooked a pot of chicken and dumplings.
For all he knew, Beth might have taken one of the prescribed pain pills and already be peacefully dozing.
No, tomorrow morning would be soon enough to see Beth and explore the possibility that the person, or persons, who wanted her dead might be the very ones closest to home.
Chapter Sixteen
After a nap and a home-cooked family meal, Beth at last felt better. Her automobile accident and the conversation she’d overheard earlier had unsettled her. Instead of being afraid, though, she was angry. Furious, actually. And she didn’t want to wait until tomorrow morning to have a much-needed conversation with Cynthia. The sooner she got that woman out of her home, the better.
As she fumed over what to do, she reached out to her stepbrother, her hand clenched around her cell as she spoke.
“Did you know about this?” she asked, her voice filled with rage after she told Aiden of his mother’s affair.
“Calm down, sis. I suspected something. I’m headed to the house, and maybe we should talk to her together. Find out what’s really going on. We can present a united front,” he suggested.
Relieved he was willing to help, Beth quickly agreed. She’d feel more in the holiday spirit if she settled this with her stepmother first.
Despite Lilah objection’s, Beth drove her rental car back to Falling Rock and pulled into the drive. A quick glance into the garage window showed it was empty. Had Cynthia left of her own accord, sensing that Beth was angry and onto her? So much the better.
Beth unlocked the door and entered her home, feeling a mixture of both relief and disappointment. She’d been all set to light into her stepmother and demand an explanation for her appalling behavior. But instead, she wandered aimlessly in the quiet house. The kitchen still smelled of fresh baked cookies and the Christmas tree twinkled in the gatherin
g darkness. She marched upstairs and peeked in her stepmother’s bedroom.
Cynthia had cleared out. The bed was made and the closets empty.
Beth strolled to the window and looked out over the yard. Snow blanketed the ground. The beauty of the scene made her fingers itch to capture the play of light and shadow in the twilight. Well, why not? It would give her something to do as well as quiet the unease that twisted her gut as she waited for Aiden to arrive. She’d already called him to tell him he needn’t come because Cynthia was gone, but he said he was on his way and to just head to bed if she was tired. They still had things to discuss, he’d told her. Quickly, she gathered her painting materials and set to work.
Over two hours later, she’d finished the small painting and regarded it with satisfaction. Beth stood and stretched, contemplating taking another pain pill before bedtime. Ultimately, she decided plain aspirin would suffice. She’d go to bed early, as Aiden had suggested, and call Sammy first thing to tell him she’d had a change of heart and would love to spend Christmas Eve with him and his family. Mind made up, she donned pajamas and slipped into bed. It had probably been for the best she’d not had a confrontation with Cynthia this evening. Tomorrow, she’d be able to talk to her in a more civilized manner. For her father’s sake, she’d be polite—but barely. As far as she was concerned, any relationship with her stepmother was officially over. And as for Aiden—the jury was still out. This past week had not brought out the best in her stepbrother. Maybe she’d always been too giving in their relationship, as well. Always the one to forgive and forget. She was glad he’d offered to confront Cynthia together, but she still wondered what his true motives were.
Beth punched at the pillow and rolled over, struggling to find a comfortable position and quiet her mind. Again she recalled the terror of hurtling down the mountain in a car without brakes and the phone conversation she’d overheard—the little innuendos that sent spider-crawls of suspicion skittering down her spine.
Headlight beams pierced the darkness of her bedroom and the sound of a car motor interrupted the night’s silence. A spark of involuntary fear paralyzed her for a moment before she pulled back the bedspread and hurried to the window. Keeping cover behind the curtain, she watched from a small slit of windowpane as the familiar dark blue sedan stopped on the driveway. Aiden sprang from the vehicle, a bottle, presumably liquor, tucked between one arm and his waist.
Too bad it hadn’t been Sammy. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to deal with Aiden so late in the evening. Had her brother spoken with Cynthia already? Or had her stepmother given him some sob story—that Beth had possibly overheard a conversation and misunderstood everything?
Briefly, she considered ignoring his arrival. No, she couldn’t be that rude. With a sigh, Beth turned on the lamp, grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed and donned slippers. Two piercing chimes buzzed through the house as she hurried down to the main level. Already, her back and shoulders ached and protested her sudden movement. The tumble down the mountain earlier had left her body feeling slightly battered.
She flung open the door as Aiden jabbed it yet a third time.
“I’m here,” she said irritably. Cold wind slapped against her body and she hugged her waist, belting the robe tighter.
Aiden pretended not to notice her cranky mood. “Where’s the party?” he said with a laugh, holding up a bottle of wine. “It’s not even eleven yet.”
“Guess you didn’t hear about my car wreck.” Beth stepped aside, allowing him entrance. She’d not told him about it.
Alarm slackened his jaw and his eyes quickly scanned her body. “Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“By some miracle, I’m only sore.”
“You’ve got scratches on your forehead. What happened? How bad was the wreck?” Aiden hung his jacket on the coat rack and followed her into the den. “And where’s Mom? She never came back?”
“She never did. I thought you might have tried to reach her to find out what her side of the story was.”
“No. Thought we’d talk first. Damn, sounds like you’ve had a rough day all around. And I haven’t helped things barging in here so late at night. Sorry, hon.” Aiden gestured toward the sofa. “Sit down and put your feet up. I want to hear all about it. But first, I’ll pour us a glass of bourbon.”
She shook her head, then groaned at the jolt of pain in her right temple. “Better not. I took a pain pill earlier today.”
“What does it matter? Just a few sips before heading to bed. It won’t hurt anything.”
“I’d rather not. Didn’t work out for me so well last time I drank.”
A dark shadow crossed his face. Did Aiden have a drinking problem? Did it make him feel better about his alcohol issue if he wasn’t drinking alone? She started to give in, then stopped herself. No, it was high time she put her needs before what her family wanted and right now she didn’t want a nightcap.
Aiden sighed. “Okay, okay, spoilsport. How about a cup of tea, then?”
“Great idea,” she conceded. “I’ll show you—”
“I know where everything is. You just relax. I’ll take care of you.”
That sounded wonderful. Beth sank against the couch cushions and smiled. “Not going to argue with you. I could use a little pampering after the day I’ve had.”
“Poor kid. Be right back.”
Beth glanced out the window as Aiden rumbled around in the kitchen. The night was so peaceful, so beautiful. She actually found herself looking forward to Christmas. Without Cynthia underfoot, it’d be less stressful. It would be fun meeting Sammy’s family and then later she and Aiden could chill out here at home watching a couple movies and microwaving popcorn. It’d be like the old days.
Maybe Sammy wouldn’t mind if Aiden had dinner with his family, as well. She’d ask him in the morning.
The kettle whistle blew and moments later Aiden appeared with a mug. “Two sugars and a splash of cream, right?”
“You got it.”
He placed the mug in her hand and the heat warmed her chilled fingers. Steam spiraled upward, and she inhaled the slightly citrus aroma of the Earl Grey. It made her think of lemon orchards in the middle of winter.
“So where’s your boyfriend tonight?” Aiden asked, kicking back in the recliner with a highball glass filled with bourbon and ice.
“Working late.” Beth sipped her tea. Hmm. The taste was slightly off. Aiden must have accidently only used one packet of sugar instead of two.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she hastened to reassure him, taking another swallow. He’d driven all the way from Atlanta and must be tired. She certainly wasn’t some diva who insisted on perfection and expected others to wait on her hand and foot. “Want to have dinner tomorrow with Sammy’s family? We can come back here afterward for movies and popcorn.” Beth frowned. “But I guess Cynthia expects you to be with her tomorrow night?”
He lifted and dropped a shoulder. “We’ll play it by ear. Right now, all I can think about is this evening. Tomorrow will take care of itself. We can work things out.”
Typical Aiden. Always had been one to live in the moment. She’d wondered if law school and his new career would make him more cautious, less spontaneous. Apparently, it had not. He took a long swallow of bourbon and she studied his tight face. Despite his casual words and laissez-faire attitude, he didn’t seem quite himself. Maybe he was as upset as she was about Cynthia’s disloyalty. “Are you really happy in your job?”
“Couldn’t be happier. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she said, cautiously picking her words. “You seem a bit wound up this visit. Under stress.”
He snorted. “How would you even know what it feels like to be under stress? Teaching nine-year-olds how to finger-paint is hardly what anyone would call stressful. Besides, you’re loaded. Born with a silver spoon, you lucky bitch.”
“Maybe you need to slow down with the drinking,” she said. “Your jealousy is showing. Not a good look for you, brother. I think I’ll go to bed after all. We’ll talk in the morning about Cynthia. My mind’s too much in a fog right now.”
“No, no, you’re right. I was out of line there. It’s just that I’ve been under a lot of pressure at work trying to make a go of my new firm. Go on and finish your tea.”
Beth started to rise and then shrugged. It was practically Christmas. She didn’t want to argue. It wasn’t like she was living with her brother, or even anywhere near him for that matter. Wasn’t that what families did when thrown together for the holidays? Try to get along for the brief period of time they had with each other? She swallowed her annoyance and took a large gulp of the cooled tea. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could get to bed and end this conversation. And having Aiden in the house was comforting, what with all the break-ins and threats from Lambert and his family. In the morning, they’d decide what to do about Cynthia.
“More tea?” he asked when she set down her cup and started to rise.
“Any more caffeine and I might not sleep tonight.” A rush of dizziness assaulted her as she stood, and Beth grasped the sofa arm and closed her eyes, willing the room to stop spinning.
“Feeling a bit woozy, little sister?” Aiden’s voice was singsongy and chirpy. As though he found her unsteadiness amusing.
“A bit.”
His hand grasped her forearm. “Good.”
Good? What was that supposed to mean? Beth’s eyes flew open and she stared at him.
The Aiden who stared back was a stranger. Dead eyes, a lifted chin and a curled upper lip made him appear cold and disdainful. As though...as though he hated her.
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