All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2)

by Forrest, Lindsey

  Lucy said directly, “What do you want, Di?”

  That was a question they all wanted answered. Kevin Stone had promised to send over a preliminary proposal earlier in the week, but it had never materialized. They were withholding the Ash Marine offer until Diana made her demands known – no use giving that up, Tom had said, if they didn’t need it.

  “What do I want?” Diana gave her a long, measured look. “Are you my sister or his lawyer?”

  “Both,” said Lucy. “I want to know. And I am duty-bound to convey any offer to my client, so you might as well tell me, no matter how outlandish it is.”

  Of course, Diana was supposed to convey any demands through her own attorney. It wasn’t entirely kosher, talking to her sister directly, but Diana had brought up the subject herself. What was she supposed to do, go deaf so she wouldn’t hear what her sister had to say?

  Well, probably, but this was one ethical boundary she was going to nudge.

  Prepared as she was to hear anything, Lucy was still shocked at the venom in Diana’s voice. “I want him to suffer. I want—” And from the corner of her eye, she saw Diana’s lips compressing, as though she were fighting back tears. “I want him to make up for what he did. I want him to be as miserable as I’ve been all these years.”

  Lucy rather thought Diana had already gotten her wish.

  “You can’t quantify suffering,” she said. “I can’t take an offer of ‘die, you bastard’ to him. What do you want?”

  Diana hunched over. “I don’t know,” she said bitterly. “The problem is, Mr. Perfect is damn near untouchable. I sat down the other day, after I got over the shock – I made a list of what matters to him. And you know what? I can’t touch him! Ashmore Park is his, and I assume his inheritance is his separate property the way Daddy’s stuff is mine. He made me sign that waiver—”

  One of her better legal maneuvers. When Richard and Scott had gone into partnership, she had insisted that Diana and Mel relinquish any rights to Ashmore & McIntire. Mel had laughed that she was signing away her rights in the inevitable bankruptcy, and Diana hadn’t bothered to read the paper. Lucy breathed a mental sigh of relief; she’d been concerned that Diana might try to invalidate that waiver. She wouldn’t succeed, but it would take time and energy to fight her.

  “—I don’t want his stupid plane. If I take that, he’ll just get another one. I thought about the Great Lakes shipping trust, but I think that’s all tied up too so it’s protected against divorce.”

  “It is,” Lucy said, and silently thanked the long-dead lawyers of Julia Tremaine Ashmore.

  “And I doubt he has much else except the money he makes, and I’m not stupid – I know any judge is going to let him keep all of that. And I’m realistic about Julie. I know she wants to live with him. I know no court is going to take her away at this point. So,” Diana paused, and Lucy finally had to prompt her.

  “So?”

  Diana said in a low voice, so low that Lucy had to strain to hear her, “That only leaves his good name. I thought maybe I could get Laurie to testify. Except she got around me on that!” She buried her face in her hands. “That bitch – it’s like she’s always two steps ahead of me. Everywhere I turn, there she is, in the way!” Another silence. “I wish to God she had never come back.”

  Lucy felt a piece of her heart crumble.

  For so long, she’d wanted her family back together. She’d dreamed of a Thanksgiving dinner, Richard and Diana miraculously at peace with each other, Laura and her daughter back in the family fold, Julie secure and not so desperately trying to win approval. Her baby taking spoonfuls of strained vegetables while Tom carved the turkey. Reunited, all of them, happy to be together in the safe haven of their family.

  And that would never happen. Not now. Richard could leave Diana behind, but Diana couldn’t let go because she was never going to forgive him for what had happened her senior year. That secret still lay smoldering between husband and wife. Even so, they might have declared a surface peace, but Laura had taken care of that. Her sisters were set against each other now.

  She felt sick. She loved them both so much, and one was going to annihilate the other.

  She was afraid she knew which one.

  “We’re almost to Cape Charles,” she said, and was stunned to hear her voice, calm and steady. “About another hour after that. Tell you what. Why don’t I drop you at the library, and you go look through the newspaper archives. See if they’ve got old issues on microfiche. Look for any stories on unidentified bodies of women—”

  “How much money does she have?”

  “What?”

  Diana said impatiently, “How much does she have? How much did this St. Bride leave her?”

  She had a sinking feeling. “I don’t know. A lot. She’s been reluctant to come right out and say – I think she doesn’t want to put anyone off. A lot of it’s tied up in trust.”

  “But she can still get her hands on quite a bit, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Lucy said flatly. “I’m not going to ask, either.”

  Diana had a little, strange smile. “Oh, yes, you are.”

  “No.” Lucy bit out the words. “I’m not.”

  She waited for the sword to drop.

  “Yes, you are,” Diana said gently. “You are going to convey to your client that I want a cash settlement of – oh, I don’t know, enough to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life. Let’s say three million. I can live very nicely on that; I’m not extravagant. I just want a nice little place in Paris and my piano. And since I know damn well he doesn’t have three million lying around, and he won’t mortgage Ashmore Park – I’m not stupid – he can go get the money from anyone who might be willing to give it to him. And I’ll bet I know someone who will write him a check the second he asks.”

  Three million. Blast. Diana must know what Ash Marine was worth.

  “Tell your client,” continued her sister, “he can have his freedom for the mere sum of three million, in cash. I don’t want it tied up with any conditions, I don’t want him telling me what I can and can’t do, and I don’t want any nonsense about a trust, either. Tell him to swallow his pride and go get the money from Laura. And tell her, if she balks, she is letting her hero in for a long and messy divorce. Tell her,” Diana said, “I will make his affair with Francie public.”

  Oh, God. What a nightmare. Not that the judge wouldn’t nip this in the bud, but the mere suggestion would end Richard and Laura, fast. She knew him; his pride and independence would keep him from ever approaching Laura again. And while that might be a good idea in the short term, as Tom had flatly told Richard the night before, what would it do to him in the long run?

  What would it do to Laura?

  What would it do to the family?

  “I will not,” Lucy said. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No,” Diana said. “It’s quite reasonable. That’s the price of his good name. That’s the price of being an upstanding Republican and a fine Episcopalian and God’s gift to architecture. He pays me, and no one has to know he engaged in a tawdry adultery with his slutty sister-in-law when he had a wife and toddler at home.”

  Richard hadn’t been overly harsh with Diana the day before. He hadn’t been harsh enough. If not for the consequences, she’d park the car and shove her sister decisively off the bridge into the Chesapeake. That would make the restraining order Tom was preparing the least of Diana’s problems.

  It would take care of everyone’s problems – Richard’s, Laura’s, Julie’s, hers. Well, maybe not hers. Glaring tabloid headlines: Fed-Up Female Finally Flips, Feeds Family Fiend to Fishes.

  “And what adultery did you engage in?”

  Silence.

  Lucy waited. She had known, from the beginning, that the affair with Francie hadn’t come up out of nowhere. She had seen the marriage falling apart for years before Francie ever made her move. Simple deduction, really – Diana hadn’t wanted to get married, and she knew for a fact her sister
hadn’t taken her marriage vows too seriously. Diana had stayed with her off and on during the months after she’d left Richard in college, and more nights than not, Diana had not come home.

  One evening a few winters before, she and Richard had relaxed before a fire at the Folly, polishing off a bottle of wine, talking about everything and nothing. Slightly tipsy confidences had followed. Lucy had never come closer to worming anything out of him; he had admitted that he had just finished a relationship, and she hadn’t let on that she already knew he and Jennifer were history. They had skirted around the issue of Diana, until, out of the blue, he had said, “Lucy, if she’d just loved me,” and he had stared into the fire, not saying another word.

  Even though it was the wine talking, she had seen his bleakness, and she had been at a loss to offer comfort. She’d never realized until then that he knew Diana had never loved him.

  It followed, day after night, that Diana must have been the first to stray. Unable to face the unspoken need of a man who loved his wife, needed her to love him, she had seen those vows as chains to be resisted and broken. I don’t want you to love me, so I’ll give you a good reason to stop.

  “Did Laura say anything to you?”

  “What?” That seemed like a non sequitur. “What would she know about your – er, love life?”

  “Nothing,” Diana said quickly, too quickly. “Just wondered.”

  Well, that was curious. She waited.

  “Do you think I can sue her?”

  What!

  “Okay,” said Lucy, when she caught her breath. “I really am going to feed you to the fishes. Sue her for what? Having the temerity to sing a song that you sang – how long ago was that?”

  Diana sent her a glance.

  “Besides,” Lucy remembered, almost too late, that she wasn’t Diana’s lawyer, “don’t ask me. Ask Kevin.”

  “Oh, screw that.” Diana waved a hand. “Can’t I even ask you a question?”

  “No!” The end of the bridge-tunnel and the southern tip of the Eastern Shore loomed right ahead, not a moment too soon. “Damn it, Di, we’ve talked about this! You know better! I can’t give you advice. That’s what you have a lawyer for.”

  “I don’t see why not. I’m not talking about suing Richard. Laurie isn’t your client.”

  “Yes, she is. Sort of.” That blasted piano. This was a nightmare. She was going to resign from her family and go live on a mountaintop in Tibet. “I’m helping her – oh, never mind. It has nothing to do with you or Richard. What do you think you’re going to sue her for?”

  “Alienation of affection.”

  Diana knew. Oh, hell, she knew. Somehow, she had guessed.

  “Or maybe conspiracy. She aided and abetted Francie in her little fling with Richard. They probably couldn’t have done it without her help. Can’t I sue her for that?”

  Conspiracy. Lucy wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. That was the problem with people; they read a true crime book or watched Court TV, and suddenly they were ready to sit on the Supreme Court. “Alienation of affection. Fine. Go ask Kevin. Be sure to tell him Laurie was a minor at the time. Oh, and tell him the statute of limitations ran years ago, and you’re only suing now because Laurie has a lot of money. I’m sure he’ll rush to draw up the papers. Then watch the lawyers line up, salivating to sue you for malicious prosecution.”

  Kevin Stone might have the hots for Diana, but he wouldn’t risk his law practice for such nonsense. Surely he wouldn’t.

  “Malicious prosecution? What’s that?”

  “It means it’s an inane idea. Drop it. Drop it right this second.”

  It was a relief, an hour later, to let her reluctant sister out at the old church that housed the county library. She gave Diana specific instructions, even if, dollars to donuts, Diana would get sidetracked and forget what she was looking for. “Meet me at the town square in,” she glanced at her watch, “one hour. That should give you enough time.”

  “Only one hour? To go through the newspapers?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re only looking through a few months’ worth. You’ll probably be done before I am.”

  “All right.” Diana hunched her shoulders and got out of the car. “Dead bodies. Unidentified. Floating in the bay. Anything else?”

  Her casual attitude grated on Lucy. This was the body of their younger sister they were talking about, and if she had been floating in the Chesapeake, someone had put her there. “That’s it. See you in an hour.”

  ~•~

  But Lucy found no dead bodies herself. She found something far worse.

  She finished at the police station long before the allotted hour was up. Very few reports had ever been generated for Ash Marine; the Ashmores were law-abiding citizens, and Dominic Abbott had been an ideal tenant of the satellite cottage. Only twice in twenty years had the police ever been summoned – once for an attempted burglary five years before, and once on an August day eleven years before.

  It had taken only a few minutes to find the police report, a paper time bomb ticking away, unseen, waiting to detonate. It might have lain there forever.

  It took only a few minutes to copy the file and head out, eyes unseeing, into the growing sunniness of the day.

  The sea air was fresh and cool; small-town America still reigned here on the Eastern Shore. People came to relax, picnic, get away from their daily stresses. Men came here with their families; teenagers came here with dates; honeymooners came to recover from their weddings. No one, Lucy thought blindly, came here to kill.

  But someone had. And had nearly gotten away with it forever.

  She sat outside the police station on a stone bench in the sunshine, waiting for – ironically! – the one person besides Julie safely in the clear, and she felt chilled straight through to her bones. The warmth of the July morning touched her skin; it did not touch her soul.

  All her life, Lucy Abbott Maitland had believed in certain things. God. The importance of family. The certainty that she had a purpose in life. Her own gifts for negotiation and persuasion.

  The innate goodness and integrity of the man and woman who had raised her.

  And, despite his stumblings, the honor and decency of her foster brother.

  She felt all at sea, untethered from her moorings, a little boat lashed around by the chaotic waters. How strange, she thought, watching Diana amble towards her, her arms swinging at her side, her face lifted to the sky, that suddenly her unstable sister, of all people, was her lifeboat in a roiling sea.

  A leaky lifeboat, if she only had Diana to rely on.

  “Hey,” Diana said, and dropped down beside her. “That was a big fat nothing. No bodies – none unidentified, that is. There were some drownings, but they were way up the coast – Lucy!” She grabbed her hands. “Lucy, what’s wrong?”

  Lucy looked at her wordlessly.

  “Is it the baby? Are you sick? Are you bleeding?”

  She found herself long enough to shake her head. “No. The baby’s fine.”

  “What’s wrong then?” Diana shifted into rare maternal form, smoothing back her hair from her face, touching her cheek. “Tell me, please. You look like – well, I don’t know what, but it’s not good. You have no color in your face.”

  Lucy roused herself. She had to say something; she had to keep Diana from marching into the substation and finding the same thing she had found.

  “I’m going to run you back to the club. We don’t need to go to Ash Marine.”

  Diana looked at her, startled. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted me to walk the scene so I could remember.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not necessary.”

  Her sister sat back warily. “Why? What did you find out?”

  “Same as you,” Lucy said. She knew Diana didn’t believe her. “A big fat nothing. No bodies, no – nothing. Laurie must have dreamed this up.”

  Diana stared at her hard, and Lucy saw the intelligence too often hidden behind a bottle of Scot
ch. “You don’t think that,” she said finally. “You found something, didn’t you? I want to know. If I’m going to be accused of slitting someone’s throat, I have the right to know why.”

  Oh, God. Diana had to pick now, of all times, to sober up and use her head.

  Lucy stared off into the distance, the sun sparkling off the Chesapeake, the gulls swooping down over the shore line. In the far distance, a little spit of land – barely visible – poked its head from the waters. To that land, eleven years ago, someone had come with dark heart and evil intent. Someone had rearranged history to cover up the woman lying in the cove, life seeping away.

  She had to do more digging. The hand of the deus ex machina at work remained obscured. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure that the truth never came out.

  She had to know for sure. Then she could decide the best way to protect her family.

  “Let’s go.” Lucy gathered her purse. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “Lucy—”

  She turned around fiercely. “Let it go, all right? Just do what I say.”

  She led the way to her car, her mind churning, Diana following in high dudgeon. Where to turn, where to look next… the most logical course of action was to question Laura, but Laura, again ironically, probably knew less than she herself now knew. How could she? And one other person still living, damn his lying self, probably had a real good idea, but before she confronted him, she needed more facts in hand. She needed what any lawyer prized – documentation.

  Oh, God, Dad, what did you do? What did you do?

  “Here.” She tossed her phone at her sister and started the car. “Call that airport. You know, where Richard keeps his plane. Oak Bend Regional. Find out how far back their records go.”

  “Why?” said Diana, even as she followed orders. “What’s the airport to do with anything?”

  This was safe enough to admit. Diana would never follow her line of thinking. “Because,” said Lucy, “in addition to the co-op fees, they bill for every landing and takeoff.”

  Diana gave her a bewildered look and lifted the phone to her ear.