Loves Legacy: The Legacy Series: The Beasley's Book Four

by Leila Lacey

  LOVES LEGACY

  Legacy Series: The Beasley’s

  Book Four

  By

  Leila Lacey

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Leila Lacey.

  All rights reserved, in accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. The scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes) prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at leilalacey0914@outlook.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Dedicated to Lisha; my inspiration. You choose to love more than hate, to forgive and forget and to love those you love no matter their mistakes. You are an amazing woman.

  CHAPTER 1

  “I still can’t believe this is my life,” Shelby thought as she paced the ER waiting room. After the officers had read Sarah her rights and took her away, the detective had more information for Greyson and Shelby.

  “Are you the next of kin for Jackson Beasley?” he had asked turning toward Greyson.

  “Well, yes now that you have barged in here and arrested my mother. Why?” Greyson said to him.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, sir, I am simply doing my job,” the officer said. “We need someone to go over to the hospital and identify Mr. Beasley’s body before we can definitively pronounce him dead,” the detective said, looking down at a pad he had in his hand. At that moment, it must have hit Queenie that her son was dead. She let out an agonizing cry from her wheelchair. Greyson rushed to her side along with Ivy trying to console her. Ivy went and gathered a cloth napkin from the buffet table and went to the in-suite bathroom to wet the cloth for her face to try and calm her.

  “I am so sorry for your loss,” the detective said to them all.

  “I will go to the hospital and do the identification,” Shelby stepped forward and said in a shaking voice.

  “Shel, NO!” Logan stepped up next to her. “You are still recovering yourself,” he finished wrapping her in his arms.

  “Logan, I have to go. Grey needs to stay with Granny and I need to…” Shelby paused to try and get control of her emotions before she broke down. “I need to say goodbye to Daddy,” she finished barely holding it together. Squeezing her tightly Logan said, “I am going with you,” which made Shelby nod in relief. She was not sure how long she was going to hold it together especially after she saw her father’s dead body.

  “Shall we go?” the detective said.

  “Yes,” Shelby said. She went to her desk and grabbed her purse but before leaving, she kneeled down in front of her grandmother. “Granny, I am so sorry. Are you ok?” Cassidy had started going about clearing out the office and getting it cleaned up. Lance and Leanne had left agreeing to take Gia with them. “Tell her I will call her later,” Lance had told Logan before they left. Ivy was standing by waiting to help her daughter in any way she could.

  “A parent should not outlive a child,” was all Queenie whispered crying into her hands. Queenie was sobbing so hard that Shelby was getting more and more concerned for her health. Kissing her grandmother on the top of her head, Shelby stood up and signaled that she needed to talk to Greyson privately. Ivy stepped up and kneeled down next to Queenie soothing her.

  “Grey, call the family doctor and get him over to Granny’s house and get her a sedative. She should not be this upset,” Shelby said to her brother. “I will come to Granny’s after I...” she paused. “After I identify Daddy’s body,” she finished swallowing hard.

  Looking at his sister in shock he said, “Spoken like a true CEO,” and turned to do as requested. Steeling herself and squaring her composure, Shelby turned and said, “Detective, I am ready.”

  She took Logan’s hand as she had followed the detective out of the office. Shelby was so glad that she had Logan. She was looking over at him now as he stood by the window in the waiting room. She marveled at how, whenever she really needed him, he was there. Even now, Shelby knew being in this hospital with the smell of synthetic clean death, she felt a sense of security because of him. The florescent lights glared on the tile floors. There were people walking the halls that were very sick. Others were talking in angry hushed tones because they were bored and tired of waiting; wanting to not be there at all. Shelby marveled at the very diverse, crowded, waiting room. You could practically feel the worry and sadness coming off some people. It struck Shelby at how status did not matter here in this place of life and death.

  “Shelby Beasley,” a nurse said at the waiting room door. Shelby stood and approached her with Logan close behind.

  “Yes, that is me,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “Come with me. I will take you to Mr. Beasley,” the nurse said, turning and walking out of the waiting room. Shelby could tell that the nurse was used to having to get where she was going fast. She could barely keep up with her.

  “Am I going to have to view him in the morgue?” Shelby asked.

  Stopping very short, the nurse turned and looked at her.

  “No! Why on earth would you need to do that?” the nurse said looking down at the chart in her hand. Confused, Shelby turned and looked at Logan and the detective who was standing close by.

  “I thought I was here to identify my father’s body,” Shelby said nervously.

  “Oh my NO, dear!” the nurse said placing her hand on Shelby’s arm. “Your father is alive. He is in critical condition but he is still with us,” she said pausing to give her a half smile and patting her back.

  “WHAT, WHAT?” Shelby turned toward the detective and said, “You told me he was dead. You arrested my mother for murder!” Shelby yelled at him.

  “Ma’am, you need to lower your voice!” the detective said calmly and patiently to Shelby. “As far as I knew, the victim was deceased.”

  “Nothing like law and order,” Logan mumbled standing next to Shelby rubbing her back. Turning back to the nurse, Shelby said, “Take me to him, please,” with tears running down her face and bundled under Logan’s protective arm. Shelby followed the nurse to her father’s room in the ICU. Jackson looked so frail lying in the bed. He had a ventilating tube in his mouth and tubes coming out of every part of his body. The sound of the machine beeping in the corner told Shelby that his heart was still beating. His skin was a pale green color, his eyes were closed. Shelby gasped and placed her hand over her mouth trying to hold back tears.

  “Hello, Ms. Beasley. My name is Dr. Jefferson. I am one of your father’s doctors,” a tall man said stepping forward to shake her hand. Shelby was shaking so badly, Logan took the doctor’s hand and shook it.

  “What happened?” Shelby said, looking at the doctor in confusion with large tears streaming down her cheeks. Always the Southern gentleman, Logan pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed the tears from her eyes.

  “Well, your father suffered five gunshot wounds to the chest. Three of them entered the lungs and two were through and through. We operated on him to remove the bullets but both his lungs had collapsed,” the doctor was saying to Shelby looking down at the tablet that was in his hands reading from it. “Your father took a fairly severe beating and all the bones in his left hand are broken. He has a fairly significant size cut in his head from the blow he took. We have placed your father on a ventilator to as
sist in his breathing, along with drains in his head and chest to drain excess fluids. It will be at least forty-eight hours before we know if Mr. Beasley will pull thorough,” the doctor finally finished. Walking to her father’s bedside, Shelby took his hand.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she whispered. No matter what was going on right now in their family, Shelby loved her father.

  “I will give you some time, but you can only stay in twenty minute increments. Mr. Beasley needs his rest,” the doctor said as he left the room. Grabbing a chair, Logan pulled it up behind Shelby and placed his hands on her shoulders and sat her down in the chair. He couldn’t think of anything to say so he just rubbed her shoulders in support.

  “How did this happen to my family?” Shelby whispered through the tears to no one in particular. She could not believe how much things had changed in the past year. Her family was in shambles, she was no longer teaching, she was the new CEO at Beasley Holdings, she was with Logan, she had been raped and killed a man and lost a child. This was just the lowest points she thought.

  “Baby, it is going to be ok,” Logan said rubbing her shoulders as she cried. “I know it looks bad, but your father is strong. He survived this far. He can make it,” Logan said.

  “Logan how did this happen? Momma shot Daddy! FIVE TIMES! And she beat him….” Shelby stopped mid-sentence as if she had just realized something. Jumping out of the chair, Shelby quickly walked out the hall looking right and then left down the hall. When she spotted who she was looking for, she took off after him with Logan hot on her heels.

  “Detective, excuse me, Detective!” she said attempting to get his attention. Finally hearing her, he stopped and waited for her to get close to him.

  “How can I help you, Ms. Beasley?” he said in a nasty tone.

  “You said my mother shot my father. But from what the doctor just told me about his injuries, there is no way that is possible,” Shelby said to him.

  “Excuse me?” the detective said with crossing his arms in disbelief.

  “The doctor said that my father was shot five times and severely beaten. Now being that you barged into my office and carted her off, I know you have seen her. My mother has severe arthritis. There is no way that she can pull a trigger, let alone five times and top it off by smacking him over the head. My mother did not do this!” Shelby said to him.

  “Ms. Beasley, I have been a detective for fifteen years. I know how to do my job. We would not have been able to get an arrest warrant for your mother if we did not have strong evidence against her,” the detective said dismissively.

  “You mean like knowing if the victim is dead or not?” Logan said to him sarcastically.

  “Excuse me?” the detective said.

  “He is right. A little over an hour ago you told me that my father was dead. He may not look good but I am pretty sure there was a heartbeat when I left that room,” Shelby said hostilely pointing back at her father’s room. “If you can get the status of your victim wrong, you may have gotten who did this wrong,” she finished.

  “Look, lady, why don’t you leave the police work to me?” he said.

  “HA!” Logan said reaching to grab Shelby’s hand and walk away from the conversation. He knew that cops did not take too kindly to being challenged, especially Southern cops.

  “I would leave the police work to you if you were not so obviously inept at your job. So... why don’t I get my father’s golfing buddy, the Governor, on the phone and explain to him how your botching this ATTEMPTED murder investigation?”

  “Ma’am, you can rest assured that we will be doing a thorough investigation into your father’s shooting,” he said with a nasty tone.

  “And I can assure you; I will make sure of it!” Shelby said before tuning to walk back down the hall toward Jackson’s room. Chuckling to himself, Logan turned to follow her but not before saying,

  “You better get to work, Opie,” and walked down the hall whistling.

  CHAPTER 2

  “All rise!” the bailiff said. Jarring Shelby back to reality, she was at the bail hearing for her mother. It had been a week since her father’s shooting and he was still in critical condition. The shock of being told that her son was dead and then being told that he was not dead had taken a toll on poor Granny. She had been bedridden for days. Shelby had gone to see her that morning before coming to the Courthouse.

  “Granny, I am so worried about you,” Shelby had said hugging and kissing her grandmother.

  “Oh, baby, didn’t I tell you that Diva’s don’t die, they ascend?” Queenie had said to her holding her had. “I am not the one you should be worried about. You should be worried about your daddy,” she had said softly.

  “I am worried about you both,” she had said. “Granny, I cannot believe this is all happening!” Shelby had finished telling her grandmother.

  “Baby, you know I love your daddy and I think your mother is a hooker that sucked her way into royalty. But with all the things that have come out lately, I am surprised your mother didn’t shoot him sooner,” Queenie had said.

  “Granny, I don’t think Momma shot Daddy. I don’t think she did that to him,” Shelby said.

  “Well, if that is true, you need to get that team of lawyers that we keep on retainer busy working on her defense,” Queenie said to her.

  “But what if I am wrong?” Shelby had said as she walked over to look out the window of her grandmother’s bedroom. Queenie’s grand estate was the largest home in Jerome County. It was the home that generation after generation of Beasley’s had been born and raised in. Shelby had always loved visiting her grandmother and sitting in the rose garden having tea parties with six or seven of her closest teddy bear friends. Smiling to herself, Shelby had thought of easier, less complicated, times when the worst thing that was happening in her family was that she was overweight. “Granny, what if I support Momma in this and she really did shoot and beat Daddy? I don’t think I could live with myself.”

  “Baby girl, if I really had an inkling that your momma did that to my son, you would not have to worry about a trial or any such thing, because Granny would give her a little Southern Justice,” Granny had said, pausing to take a sip of her mint julep and take her afternoon medicine.

  “GRANNY!” Shelby said walking over and taking the glass from her. “Are you supposed to be taking your medication with alcohol?” she finished sniffing the glass and turning her nose up. “Granny, this stuff is 100 proof. What is in here?”

  “Oh, baby girl, I am 90 years old. What are you saving me for? Gimme my glass back so I can get the pickling started!” Queenie had said laughing.

  She laughed along with Granny because, well her grandmother was hilarious. Shelby shook her head and sat her glass back down on the sterling silver tray on her antique end table. “At least take your medicine with water,” Shelby said.

  “Shelby, I have a house full of housekeepers, butlers and nurses and doctors on call. Stop fussing over me and go and see about your momma, talk to your brother and give that sexy man of yours a blow job for goodness sake. Just stop worrying about me,” Granny said to her.

  Laughing lightly, Shelby shook her head.

  “There she is! There is my smart, strong baby girl,” Queenie said reaching her hand out to Shelby. Shelby had walked closer to her grandmother and taken her hand as she sat down beside her on the bed. “Shelby, I have never pushed you, shit, living with your mother and father, I figured you needed all the love and sensitivity you could get from me. But, baby girl, it is time for you to stand up and take your place in this family. You are the smartest, strongest most beautiful woman I know. There is nothing you can’t do. It’s time for you to stand in your power as a strong black woman like all the other strong black women before you. It’s time for you to stand up as a Beasley! You hear me, baby girl?” she had finished by squeezing Shelby’s hand. Leaning in and hugging her grandmother tightly, Shelby realized in that moment that if this family was going to survive this, she was going to have to
stand up and fight for all of them. ‘It’s time to put on your big girl panties,’ she thought to herself.

  Standing up, she had said to her grandmother, “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. I got this.”

  “Well I knew that, baby girl. I was just waiting for you to realize it. Now get yourself out of here and leave those shoes in Granny’s closet!”

  Laughing as she went to the door, Shelby had said, “Granny, you can’t wear stilettos!”

  “Can’t where stilettos? Baby, I get up and put on my hooker shoes and do a Beyoncé routine every morning! Don’t underestimate your granny now. I can show you some tricks!” Queenie had said to her.

  “I bet you can, Granny!” Shelby had looked back at her grandmother before she left her room. “I love you, Granny. Be good,” she had said blowing her a kiss.

  “Superior Court of the State of Georgia, Lincoln County, the Honorable Judge Bartholomew Sheldon presiding; Court is now in session. Please be seated and come to order.” As she was coming out of her own thoughts, Shelby quickly stood up. Just as she was sitting down, she saw the Court officers bring her mother into the Courtroom. ‘Oh Momma!’ Shelby thought. Sarah’s normally well maintained not-a-hair-out-of-place hair was all over her head in a haphazard pony tail. She was in an orange jumpsuit with her hands and ankles shackled. She looked weak and frail and like she had been crying for days. It broke Shelby’s heart to see her once proud mother’s walk reduced to a shameful shuffle; all because of something she more than likely did not do. Shelby tried to get her mother’s attention by waving at her. But Sarah would not, could not, look at her daughter. Sitting in his chair, the judge said, “You may be seated.”

  “Momma?” Shelby had whispered sitting directly behind her mother. The family’s attorney, Richard Brownstone, turned to Shelby placing his finger over his lips signally Shelby to be quiet.

  “Let’s get the proceedings started, shall we?” Judge Sheldon said. “This is the plea hearing for the case of the United States Federal Court versus Sarah Monica Beasley on the charge of premeditated attempted murder of Jackson Michael Beasley,” the judge said looking through the file in front of him. “Mrs. Beasley, how do you plead?” the judge said looking at Sarah and her lawyer.