The Inheritance Part IV

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The Inheritance Part IV Page 2

by Olivia Mayfield


  But always on the back of her mind, lingering in her thoughts, was Cassandra. And Andrew. She’d left Scott a message, asking if they could talk again, but he hadn’t responded to her call yet. And nothing else was moving forward with the case. Meanwhile, Andrew had left a couple of messages, asking her to call him back. He’d sounded hurt, then clipped and distant in his last message.

  As she cut asparagus into smaller pieces to cook in the skillet for dinner, her phone rang again from her pocket.

  Her mom shot Maggie a sideways glance from where she was tenderizing the pork chops. “He’s not going to stop calling, you know,” she said. There wasn’t any judgment in her voice, just concern.

  Maggie’s stomach flopped. While she hadn’t spelled out to her mom what had happened between her and Andrew, the woman was astute enough to realize Maggie was hanging around at home a lot more recently. Still, this wasn’t something she wanted to talk about with her mother. “Who?” she asked, playing dumb.

  Her mother’s eyebrow shot clear up into her bangs. “Seriously?”

  Maggie had the grace to flush at being caught out. “Okay, but I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

  “You two obviously have something to discuss. Better to get it done with soon before . . .” She paused, turning her attention back to the pork chops. “Before it festers out of control. Before it’s too late to fix.”

  Obviously, her mom was speaking from personal experience here. Maggie’s heart pinched in sympathy for her.

  The phone stopped ringing, and then a moment later it vibrated, indicating a voice mail.

  Maggie sighed. She was being stubborn, she knew it. But deep down, she was afraid that listening to Andrew would confuse her more, make her forget why she couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t think straight when it came to him, and there still had been no satisfactory answer regarding Joel’s number. Just more of him saying she shouldn’t shut him out, that they should talk about it.

  That he wanted to talk more about their past.

  “I’ll call him back soon,” she finally said. Even if to just officially end everything with them. Because if she had this much doubt about his honesty, it didn’t bode well for remaining partners. And it certainly hampered her ability to relax and trust him with her body.

  She finished chopping up the asparagus, drawing in steadying breaths. If her mom could keep her shit together in the wake of everything going on, Maggie could too.

  But the burden of this competition, the way it ate at her soul and mind, poisoned her sense of trust in others, was starting to become more than she wanted to bear.

  Chapter 20

  Monday’s meeting with Andrew, Robert, Bethany and Mr. Webber proved to be incredibly awkward, to say the least. Maggie hadn’t seen her brother in days, and Robert had shown up almost a half hour late to the meeting, eyes blurry and bloodshot and skin stinking of booze. They’d all waited impatiently while she’d blown up his phone with numerous texts and messages, reminding him he was supposed to be here.

  What was he thinking? She was equal parts concerned, embarrassed and pissed off at how irresponsible he was. Would he ever learn? Why did he continue to act out like this, despite knowing better?

  When Robert had shown up late and blatantly drunk, he hadn’t even offered an apology. Had merely slipped into his seat and sipped on the coffee Mr. Webber’s secretary discreetly brought in. The woman’s face had the same look of concern and disgust that everyone else’s did.

  Plus, add in the tension between her and Andrew, topped with Bethany’s unusual stoic silence, and the hour passed by with painfully slow ticks of the clock. It had taken all of Maggie’s effort to keep her attention away from Andrew, despite the magnetic pull of her eyes toward his. Her heart roared in her ears, and she fisted her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting.

  She wouldn’t let him or anyone know that she was shaken up.

  While Robert sipped on his coffee, ignoring everyone around him, Mr. Webber simply heaved a heavy sigh and plopped down into his chair at the head of the table, giving everyone a disappointed eye at their prolonged silence. With quiet words and a tight stomach, Maggie reported on Joel’s death.

  Robert went as pale as a ghost, and Bethany swallowed back a short cry, blinking rapidly. Apparently they both remembered who Joel was.

  No one else offered anything up. Maggie couldn’t help a derisive roll of her eyes at the situation. If her grandpa had intended this to be a meeting where information was freely shared, he’d been naïve, indeed. All that prevailed so far were pinched lips and suspicious glances.

  When Mr. Webber released them from the meeting, Maggie practically flew out of the building toward her car, afraid of Andrew confronting her about her continued avoidance of him. It was hard, staying away from him when she was so torn inside, wanting to believe him but not sure if that was stupid. Could she really trust him?

  It killed her that she just didn’t know.

  She slipped into her car, stuck her key in the ignition and moved to turn it on but decided to check her phone first. She’d gotten a voice mail from the PI, Albert Slater, while she’d been in the meeting.

  “Maggie, I wanted to check in with you,” the message started in Albert’s gruff voice. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call earlier. I had some meetings with another client.” He cleared his throat, and she heard the soft sounds of people talking in the background. “Anyway, just as you suspected, the DNA material hasn’t provided any new leads. The police are checking against the criminal database, since it’s been eight years since the original check, but they’ve found no matching records yet. It might be weeks before we get the final results, but it’s not looking good. Background searches on Joel Neumeyer and Scott Macomber didn’t reveal anything criminal or suspicious. I’m hitting dead ends everywhere so far.” But if I happen to find any other pursuable leads, I’ll let you know.”

  She bit her lower lip and dropped her head to the steering wheel, eyes stinging with bitter tears. It was hopeless. Her last possible chance for getting clues from the scant evidence she’d found in her sister’s box had disintegrated right in front of her. The phone list was a wash. No other testimonies for her to pursue. Scott still wasn’t returning her calls. Joel was dead.

  Someone out there knew something about this case—her grandpa had been right about that much. But damned if she could figure it out herself.

  Maggie wasn’t sure how long she lingered in her quiet car, nestled in the deep shadow of the law building, fighting back tears and feeling sorry for herself. But when she finally looked up, the parking lot had emptied out except for Bethany’s black Benz.

  Then she blinked in surprise. She could see glints of her brother’s blond hair in the passenger side as he waved his hands around. It had to be him—she recognized his mannerisms clear as day. Seemed like he and Bethany were in a heated argument.

  What were they talking about?

  Curiosity burned. Maggie blinked her eyes clear of tears and strained to figure out what was happening. The driver’s side of the car was dark, but she could easily see her brother’s profile. His jaw was clenched, his hands moving through the air. He huffed and turned his face away from Bethany, peering through the passenger window.

  Maggie ducked her head down for a second, heart slamming in her chest. She shouldn’t be doing this. Should leave them to their conversation and drive off, not skulk around in her car and essentially eavesdrop on something that might not have anything to do with her or the case.

  She gave it a couple of minutes, then lifted her head with caution and moved her hand toward the key in the ignition. Temptation beckoned her though, and she glanced quickly over at the Benz, just for a second.

  Bethany was straddling her brother’s lap in the passenger seat, their mouths entangled in a deep kiss as she ground herself against him.

  What the . . . ?

  Maggie’s hand fell from the key and she swallowed in horror. Seriously? Her brother and Bethany?
This had to be a joke. A horrible, horrible joke.

  Robert’s hand rose to thread itself in Bethany’s long brown hair, and he tugged her head back, swiping a lick at the expanse of her throat. Maggie’s stomach turned, and she bit back a gasp of horror. Not that they could hear her in her car, but come on. Right there in the parking lot? What the hell were they thinking?

  When Robert’s seat leaned back and his hands moved down from her hair across the top of her chest, right above the large mounds of her breasts, Maggie tore her gaze away. It was painfully obvious what was about to happen, and no way in hell did she want to see it.

  If she turned her car on and drove off, they’d know that she knew about them. And something in her gut told her to not give away her position.

  Maggie zipped her coat around her, ducked down as low as possible and slid over to the passenger seat, creaking the door open and slipping out as small and quietly as she could. She needed some fresh air, some time to think. She tiptoed along the dark, shadowed edge of the building and when she reached the sidewalk, peeked over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t been discovered.

  Nothing stirred from what she could tell.

  Anger washed over her as she thrust her hands in her coat pockets and strode down the sidewalk toward the center of town. What the hell was going on anymore? Was Bethany just trying to sleep her way into the family money to hedge her bets in case she couldn’t figure out the case?

  Disgusting. That woman would stop at nothing to get Maggie’s grandpa’s money. He would roll over in his grave if he knew about her banging his own grandson. So nasty. How had he fallen for her schemes in the first place?

  And why was Robert falling for it now? He couldn’t be that stupid, could he? Well, he did show up totally trashed for the meeting, so Maggie was obviously giving him too much credit.

  Or was she? A sudden realization stopped her right in her tracks.

  What if Robert was using Bethany? Maggie’s heart told her it wasn’t possible, that at the very least, her brother wasn’t that smart. But he’d tried to mooch information from Maggie time and again, though admittedly in a clumsy manner. Why wouldn’t he do the same to Bethany?

  And wasn’t sex a great way to reach her, make her extra vulnerable and open to conversation?

  She didn’t want to believe her brother was that devious. But ten million cold ones could make anyone become cutthroat.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She dug it out and peered at the caller ID. David. With an embarrassed groan, she turned it on.

  “Hey,” she said, trying to sound light as she walked down the sidewalk. She passed cozy shops with darkened windows, mannequins with blank faces frozen in place in wedding gowns and bridesmaid dresses.

  “She lives!” he said with a laugh. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. How have you been?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said truthfully, her embarrassed flush growing deeper. Since sleeping with Andrew and getting more tangled up in this case, she’d pretty much forgotten about David. They were friends, and she should have done better to say hi. Especially since they hadn’t talked much since their “date,” other than her revisiting the evidence room. “I’ve been so busy with work and stuff.”

  “I know how that goes,” he said. “We had a big heroin bust the other day. I think I’m still working on paperwork for it.”

  That’s right. She’d read about it in the paper. “Are you okay? No one got hurt, right?”

  “The bad guys were caught, and we got that filthy crap off the streets. I’d say it was a success.” Pride rang clear in his voice.

  She couldn’t help but smile in response. Why couldn’t she like David? Why didn’t she have that burning desire deep in her core for him? He was attractive, fun, dedicated to helping people. He wasn’t full of artifice or deception.

  “So how’s the stuff going with your sister?” he asked.

  A biting wind whipped down the street and she gasped, tucking into a shop’s doorway. “It’s not going,” she admitted, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder and thrusting her bare hands in her pockets to warm them. “I can’t seem to find anything.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “For what it’s worth, when I’m working on a case that seems difficult, I go back to the beginning and reevaluate everything I know. Sometimes there’s a piece in there that jumps out at me. Something I’d missed before because of focusing on too many things at once. Simplify things when possible.” He paused. “And don’t let your head tell you to ignore something, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Those clues often help crack the case for you more than you’d think.”

  “That’s a good idea,” she said. “Thank you.”

  He was right. She was letting this get overly complicated. It was time to go back to the beginning and revisit her evidence. One element at a time.

  “The answer is there,” he said. “I believe you’ll find it.”

  “That makes one of us,” she said with a mirthless laugh.

  “Hey, I gotta go. But maybe we can talk again soon?” He sounded hopeful. And so sweet.

  Her heart pinched. “I’d really like that,” she said in all sincerity. They could be friends, at least. And she would make a better effort to let him know he was appreciated.

  They hung up.

  Maggie put her phone back in her pocket and made her way back to her car. Hopefully her brother was done with his shenanigans in Bethany’s car, because she was freezing to death and needed to go home.

  When she approached the law building’s corner, she peered around. Bethany’s Benz was gone. No trace of her brother anywhere either. Thank God. All she wanted to do was scrub that mental image of him and Bethany from her brain and never think of it again. A glass of wine and some peace and quiet tonight would help with that.

  The drive home was uneventful. No one else was around. Maggie made her way into the darkened house and turned on all the lights, still slightly paranoid over the break-in and not wanting to alert anyone outside that she was home alone. She locked everything up behind her, poured a large glass of white wine and headed to her room, where she emptied her bag of notes on the bed.

  Go back to the beginning, David had said.

  Simplify.

  She chewed on the edge of the pen, studying everything spread out on her bedspread. Scraps of paper, notes dawdled in the margins, photocopies of the official police report.

  Okay, the simple facts: Her sister had attended a party. Sometime after midnight, Cassandra had disappeared.

  Joel had known something about what had happened to Cassandra and was going to tell Maggie. Then he’d died right before they were supposed to talk.

  No coincidence there. It had to be murder.

  Maggie opened the notebook to her timeline and looked it over, studying the order of events based on the police report, plus what her mom and Scott had added. It was the same thing she’d been staring at for days, but she cleared her mind and made herself try to see it from a fresh perspective. Something niggled at the back of her consciousness . . . something about Joel and Scott.

  What was bugging her about it so much? What was she missing here?

  Then it hit her. If Joel had known something about what had happened that night, wouldn’t Scott possibly know it too? Those guys had been thick as thieves back in the day, along with her brother.

  Surely they hadn’t all three passed out at exactly the same time, right?

  Well, that was it. She grit her jaw in determination. Tomorrow night, she was going to drive to Scott’s house and make him talk to her. He had answers, something she desperately needed. She wouldn’t leave until she got them. The PI had previously sent her the man’s address. She dug through her email and found the message where he’d told her where Scott lived.

  But something else was bugging her about it too, made even more awkward after seeing her brother having sex wit
h Bethany. Not only had Joel and Scott been there, her brother had too. The police report didn’t have many details beyond what she’d heard him say before.

  Was it possible her brother had seen or heard something, even if he hadn’t realized it was a clue? And if so, was there a chance of her finding out whatever that might be?

  Maggie stuffed all her papers back into the bag and tucked it under her bed, dangling her feet over the edge. Would Robert be open to letting her interview him? She’d thought of it before, of course, but given that they were competitors, she figured he would probably remain tight-lipped.

  Could there be a way to get him to talk without it looking like an interview?

  She reached out to her beside table and took a deep swig of the wine, its crisp, fruity flavor tingling on the back of her palate. The only problem was, even if she was successful and managed to get him to talk to her, she had no idea if he’d tell her the truth. Which made her feel even worse.

  Robert was sleeping with his dead grandfather’s girlfriend. If that didn’t indicate an unsettling new factor to his personality that she hadn’t known, she didn’t know what did.

  And she sure as hell didn’t trust it.

  Chapter 21

  “Maggie? Are you here?” Her mom’s voice came from downstairs a few minutes later, and Maggie heard keys being dropped on a wooden surface.

  She hopped off the bed, grabbed her glass of wine and closed her bedroom door, making her way downstairs. “I am. You’re late getting home,” she noted.

  Her mother’s eyes were slightly red, and puffy underneath. She looked exhausted, though her outfit was still pristine and her hair sleek and smooth. “Long day at work,” she said with a sigh.

  Maggie poured her mom a glass of wine and thrust it into her hand, receiving a brief but grateful smile in return. They both sat down at the kitchen table and stared into their pale-colored goblets for a couple of minutes.

 

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