by Bush, Nancy
Braden scowled at his new wife, but managed to keep from saying anything. Verna, seeing the interplay, said, “What an interesting kitchen color choice, Rosamund? I don’t think I would have thought of it.”
July said loudly, “This is a momentous day. We’re not a big, happy family. We never have been, and come to that, we’re not even really a family. There have been a lot of tragedies, too.” Her gaze swept from Braden to Verna, and September held her breath. Just where was this going? “I moved back to the house this summer because I was thinking of changing my life.” She slid a half-glance to Dash, who was sitting quietly with a faint smile on his face, listening. For a moment September thought July had lied to her and she and Dash had decided to get pregnant together after all, but then she said, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. You’ve all met Dash before, Dashiell Vogt. He came to The Willows a few months back and introduced himself and we struck up a friendship.”
“Oh, you’re getting married,” Verna said with a conspiratorial smile. “Good for you.”
Auggie drawled, “I wouldn’t have shown up tonight if that’s all it was.”
“What is it?” Evie asked innocently. Her gaze turned to Dash, who gazed right back at her, and in that moment September saw the Rafferty blue eyes on his handsome face.
“Oh . . .” September said, setting down her fork.
July smiled at her and then at the table at large. “You’ve met Dashiell, but you haven’t really met him. Not even you, Dad. But it’s time you did.” She turned to Dash and lifted a hand.
He took the cue, slowly rising from the table, lifting a glass. “Hello, Father,” he said in a wry tone. “Glad to finally meet you.”
Chapter 18
September glanced from Dashiell to her father, to Auggie, and back to July. Surprisingly, the first thing she thought was, I don’t have time for this. Her anger at her father and Verna was still a bright ember, but the realization that she had some unrecognized sibling from a different liaison—given Dash’s age he was before Verna’s time and Verna was the type to flaunt her children, not bury their existence—was a complication that September wanted to deal with at some future date.
“You remember Dash’s mom,” July was saying to Braden when he stared at Dash silently for so long that it became uncomfortable. “She worked for you and Mom when March and I were just babies. Dash decided to meet me first, but he didn’t tell me the whole story until just recently. I thought I should share.”
Silence followed. Verna blinked rapidly, as if the act of moving her eyelids could get her brain processing faster, and Stefan sort of shrank away from Dash as if he might have cooties.
Auggie reached across the table, holding out his hand. “July already told me, obviously. Welcome to the family, brother,” he said ironically.
“Dash is your brother?” Evie asked, lost. “How come no one told me?”
“It’s kind of been news to all of us,” July said, looking at Braden, whose face had suffused with color, only to have it drain away again.
Rosamund stated flatly, “I don’t believe it.”
“I don’t either,” Verna said, flustered.
“You think you’re the only one who had an affair with Dad? Stand in line,” July shot back.
September choked out a laugh. She’d never been that close to her older sister, and she was beginning to think she’d really missed out.
“Dash is Dad’s son,” July said. “I even did a little thing called DNA testing, and guess what it proved.”
“You can even see it,” September observed.
Everyone took a hard look at Dash, who lifted up his palms as if to say, “Have at it.”
“I think I’ll get an independent test, just the same,” Rosamund declared.
September knew she was just worried that there was now another person in line for the Rafferty inheritance.
“You’ll waste your money,” Auggie said.
“It’s mine to waste!” Rosamund glared fire at all the Raffertys.
March seemed to stir himself, but he remained silent, waiting for Braden to speak. Braden took his time, and when he did, he warned July. “You shouldn’t have done this.”
“You mean because it’s self-destructive? Because you’ll take my job away from me? You blew that when you and Verna took my mother away from me. That’s all on you!” Her voice cracked as she gazed from Braden, to Verna, and back again. Though she’d barely eaten a bite, she then dropped her napkin on the table, scooted back her chair, and stalked away from the table to the kitchen.
Dash didn’t follow her. He’d clearly been given a script ahead of time and merely regarded his father coolly.
“You’re not my son,” Braden said coldly.
“I don’t really like the idea, either, but DNA says differently. You know my mother, Anna Marie.”
“Anna Marie worked for Kathryn, not me, and she was only here a short time,” Braden stated flatly.
“Because she was pregnant with me. I know.” Dash picked up his lemonade and drank a huge swallow. His fingers trembled slightly, the only giveaway to his emotions.
September was starting to wish she’d taken her father up on that drink. Everyone was looking at Braden, who was staring down at his plate. She wondered, idly, if he would try to deny the charge, but it was pretty clear July had already done her homework and facts were facts.
Auggie clapped his hands together and said, “Okay. If that’s it, I gotta get going. I think I’m over my quota of Rafferty drama.” He scraped back his chair.
“August, I want to talk to you,” Braden said quickly.
“Seriously? You think this is the time?” Auggie asked.
“It’s all the time you’re giving me!” he growled.
“You want to talk about something? Something other than meeting your long lost son, that is?” Auggie swept an arm toward Dash. “Why don’t you worry about Nine and the fact that she’s in the killer’s sights—”
“Auggie,” September warned.
“—and that he’s sent her her own grade school artwork with a message: ‘Do Unto Others.’ And a second piece, with the Roman numeral IX on the back. He put that there. She didn’t. So, where the hell’s her old schoolwork? It’s not here. She’s looked. Help her find it, before speculation that the doer’s one of us becomes certainty in the minds of the authorities.”
Braden had jumped to his feet in fury. “In your mind, son?”
“Wait . . . wait . . .” September moved closer to Auggie, hoping to defuse a situation that was rapidly getting out of hand.
“The FBI’s on this one, Dad. Nine’s been taken off the case because she’s a target.”
“Is this true?” Braden bellowed at September.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“You should have said something when you came here!” He glared at her.
“I should’ve,” she agreed. She just hadn’t wanted all the drama, but she’d gotten it anyway.
“So, where is it?” Auggie asked. “All of our stuff is missing.” He glanced around to March and July, who had returned to the table, and his hard gaze fell on Verna. “I would say someone destroyed it, but since some of Nine’s schoolwork’s been sent to her, I’m betting it’s still around.”
Unless the killer’s had it all along. September didn’t voice her thought, however.
Verna said, “You can’t think I’m responsible,” as she also got to her feet.
“Mom died and you moved in,” July stated in a cold voice.
“Stop this nonsense!” Braden roared. He pointed a finger at Auggie. “I should have known the only reason you came here was to start a fight.” He flashed a look at Nine. “I told you not to go into police work. This is exactly why. You mix with the likes of scum and you pay a terrible price.”
“I didn’t touch any of your things,” Verna came back hotly to September, ignoring Braden entirely. “Some of Kathryn’s were put in the attic. I thought that was where
the rest of your childhood memories were.”
“We found my mother’s,” September said woodenly.
“You should have found the rest. It was there!” Verna declared.
Stefan slid from his chair and moved behind his mother and out of the room. September’s gaze flicked to him as he sneaked away. Evie looked about ready to cry and March put a hand on her shoulder, glaring furiously at Auggie.
“I think we’ve all talked long enough,” he said.
They all started moving away from the table except for Rosamund who seemed frozen in place. As if realizing they were all standing, she lumbered to her feet. Some of the punch had gone out of her, and September stared at her and with dawning comprehension said, “You moved the boxes.”
“What?” Rosamund didn’t meet September’s eyes.
“You moved the boxes. You knew it when I came here the first time and when I came back with Jake on Monday.”
She thought for a long moment, and September could see she was trying to come up with an excuse. Eventually, she said with a hike of her shoulders, “I didn’t know it was so important. You were just looking for some old stuff. You didn’t say why you wanted it.”
“Where is it?” September demanded.
Her eyes moved past her to Braden, whose own expression was hard to read. “Well, I didn’t know!” she told him, as if he’d accused her.
“Where is it?” Braden repeated September’s question.
“You know! I told you I was getting that storage unit at that public storage place off Western.” She couldn’t hold his gaze, and September suspected that she might just have purposely forgotten to mention that plan. “I had Suma’s husband, Jorah, take some stuff over there. Just—junk.” Feeling cornered, she added, “I can give you the key.”
“Do it,” September told her, and she started to move toward the stairs that led to the master suite set of rooms.
“Were you ever going to tell Nine?” Auggie asked Rosamund as she moved past him.
“I didn’t know it was such a big deal!” She looked about ready to cry and Braden said roughly, “That’s enough.” As she headed for the stairs, Braden said pointedly to Verna and Stefan, “I think we’ve all had enough for tonight.”
Verna made the mistake of putting a hand on his arm. In a voice only September could hear, as she was closest, she whispered to Braden, “I don’t believe he’s a Rafferty.”
Braden put a hand in the small of her back and guided Verna and Stefan outside. September made a point of not meeting his eyes as he returned; she knew, as he did, that Verna’s comment had everything to do with Rafferty money and that’s why she was picking sides.
Rosamund was back in a few minutes with a folded piece of paper and a key on a ring with the unit number: C14. “This is the code to get into the place,” she said, handing the piece of paper along with the key to September.
“Thank you,” September said coldly.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to help you,” she declared, fighting tears.
“For God’s sake, Rosamund. What were you thinking ?” July said with a roll of her eyes.
“She gave you the key,” Evie reminded September with a touch of urgency, her blue eyes clouded with concern. “She just made a mistake.”
“That was good,” September agreed woodenly for Evie’s sake. “We all make mistakes.”
Dash took the following lull to say to Braden, “I’d like to meet with you at some future time.”
Braden’s nostrils flared. “You come into my house under false pretenses and expect me to accept you with open arms. . . .” He shook his head, as if he were beyond words.
“Hey, any pretenses, false or otherwise, are all my fault,” July said airily.
March steered Evie away from the confrontation and toward the front door. “School tomorrow,” he said vaguely as an explanation.
“Is Dash going to change his name to a month, too?” Evie asked just before the door closed behind her.
Auggie snorted. “That’s a good point. What month were you born?” he asked Dash.
Braden suddenly moved up to Auggie, looking for all the world like he was going to hit his son. Auggie raised his brows and met his father’s gaze deliberately, goading him with one arched brow.
September said, “Whoa, whoa. Let’s all take a step back.”
“No need,” Auggie said. “If this is what he wants, I’m ready. Take your best shot,” he challenged his father.
July said quickly, “Okay, I’m sorry. I should have handled this differently. Nobody’s hitting anyone.”
“It’s your fault!” Rosamund stated to her with a bit of triumph, glad the focus was off her.
“That’s enough.” Braden was curt. His gaze bored into Auggie, who stared back, calm and cool and ready. After several tense moments, Braden said again, “I think we’ve all had enough for tonight.”
Dash put in casually, “It’s December, actually. The month I was born.”
July looked at him. “Well, it starts with a ‘D,’ so I guess that counts.”
“Next time you want to have a party at my house, think again,” Rosamund sniffed at July. “Goodnight everyone.”
At Rosamund’s dismissal, September hurried Auggie outside. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded.
He turned to her. “Hey, you want to be mad at someone, be mad at July. She’s the one who cooked this whole thing up after Dash told her the truth. I wonder how many more ‘Dashiells’ there are out there. Think how many Raffertys there could be.”
“I gotta get outta here,” September said.
They were walking toward her Pilot and his Jeep. It was dark by now and Auggie stopped and said, “Okay, maybe it’s low of me, but I’m kinda glad to have it all out there. This is who we are. The real Raffertys.”
“What’s July thinking?” September muttered. “I mean, my God. Talk about burning bridges. She practically said she was going to lose her job. And she can’t stay at the house anymore.”
Auggie hiked his shoulders. “She just couldn’t stand the bullshit anymore. And I think she likes Dash.”
“What’s the story there?” September asked, thinking how July had been considering having a baby. Now she knew why she hadn’t considered Dash in her plans.
“He came to The Willows and introduced himself. He didn’t say who he was at first and it kinda went from there, and then he told her, and she sat on it a while, I guess, but after your run-in with dear old Dad, she was pissed. I don’t know what the hell’s going on with her, really, but she convinced me to come.” He half-laughed. “Glad I didn’t miss it.”
“What do you think Dash’s agenda is?”
“Rafferty money?” He shrugged uncaringly.
“Yeah, well, just wait till Dash tries to take a slice of the Rafferty pie. Verna and Rosamund will be all over it, among others.”
“He can have my slice,” Auggie said. “Or, maybe he’s just looking to connect with his family.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
They both laughed. Then September glanced back at the house. “I don’t really care about any of this. It’s crazy drama stuff, but I’d like to kill Rosamund. She knew why I was here before. She just didn’t want to admit she moved my stuff out.”
“Dear old Dad will never let her get away with that.” Auggie grinned. “He may treat us all like shit, but he won’t allow anyone else to.”
“True,” September said.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to worry about you on the Do Unto Others case anymore.” As the smile fell from her face, he added, “That said, I know it’s a bitch to be taken off a case. I’m sorry about that. But this one’s too personal. You know that.” When September didn’t say anything, he said, “I suppose you’re going to look in the storage unit.”
“Tonight, hopefully. I may be off the case, but I’m still going to find my own schoolwork,” she said with a bit of heat. “Our schoolwork, since yours is missing, too.”
�
�Okay.” He shook his head. “Boy, did Rosamund miscalculate on this one. You can’t get rid of us Raffertys that way.”
“And now there’s one more of us.”
“At least,” Auggie said.
The front door opened and Dash and July walked through. July wished him goodnight with a quick hug, then went back inside the house. Dash came toward them and stopped by a dark blue Nissan Pathfinder. The three of them stared at each other a moment, then Auggie said, “I’m so glad you met us on our best behavior.”
That broke both Dash and September up, and then Dash shook Auggie’s hand again. He looked at September and held out his arms, asking her silently if she wanted a hug.
September, who usually abhorred that kind of thing, walked into his arms and hugged him back. She didn’t care what his agenda was; he was a Rafferty and an outsider, and that put him on Auggie’s and her side of the ongoing family war.
Slightly embarrassed, she pulled back and exchanged phone numbers with Dash, who then did the same with Auggie. She then climbed back in her car and grabbed up her cell phone which she’d purposely left in the car, sensing earlier that whatever July had in store for her, she was better off not being distracted by phone calls from work or Jake or anything else.
There was one voice mail and two texts. The first text was from Sandler, asking her to call. She knew what that one was about; she wanted September’s take on the interview with Hague Dugan. The second text was from Jake.
Meet at your apt. Be there by 9.
She didn’t recognize the number for the phone message and debated on waiting to take it. She wanted to get to her apartment and maybe talk Jake into joining her on a hunt in the storage unit.
Sticking her earbud in, she listened to the message while she put the car into gear. She had to punch in her code, but then she was driving and the message came on.
“Hi, this is Della Larson. Hague’s caretaker. I got your number from the card you gave Hague. I worked for a very short time at Grandview Hospital myself. Hague was a patient there and that’s how I first met him. Before you get any ideas, he was young and I barely noticed him. We met years later again, and I was looking for in-home work and well . . . everything just came together.