“A hundred percent,” Albert Slater confirmed. “She has no money. I can’t imagine what she’s been spending it on, but there’s very little left. Lots of credit card charges and large withdrawals. The girl’s barely floating by.”
“But . . . you said she’s staying at her dad’s house?” No way would Bethany have moved back in there voluntarily. She’d declared many times back in high school that once she left, she was never seeing her horrible dad again.
“I’ve visually confirmed seeing her stay overnight there the last two nights. And I’ve also confirmed that she hasn’t been at your grandfather’s house in at least a couple of weeks.”
“I appreciate your letting me know,” Maggie said quietly.
They hung up. She scooted to the edge of her bed, dangling her feet over the sides, and dropped her cell on her bedside table. Shocked wouldn’t even come close to describing her feelings right now.
Apparently, Bethany had moved out of Maggie’s grandpa’s house shortly after the funeral. Since the car was paid up, it was still in her possession. But it looked like she had nothing else—all her allowance had dried up. Maybe she’d even given some to that awful guy Maggie had seen in the diner parking lot after their first meeting. God, that had seemed like ages ago.
And all this time, the woman had been secretly living with her dad again. The laziest, meanest asshole in all of Ohio.
Maggie had no good memories of the man. When she and Bethany had been best friends back in school, the girl had always come to Maggie’s house for sleepovers, hanging out and occasional meals. The reasoning had become apparent when Maggie had dropped by unexpectedly one time and saw where they lived.
It was a total dump. The sad part was it used to be a nice house—that much was still apparent. But after Bethany’s mom had died, her dad had let it go to hell, too busy drinking all their extra money away to maintain any cleanliness. Dirty dishes had piled everywhere, along with dirty clothes, old newspapers and scads of junk. Bethany had been mortified by Maggie’s impromptu visit, so she had judiciously stayed away after that.
All of Maggie’s grandpa’s assets were tied up in the inheritance . . . including his house. So Bethany had been quickly booted out on her ass. No living it up on his dime since his death.
Maggie had to admit, a part of her felt a little smug over the justice of that. The leech couldn’t bleed his money dry before the mystery was solved. But a long-smothered part flared up with a tinge of guilt. She knew what Bethany’s dad was like. It had to be awful living there again with that man.
With a sigh, she shoved thoughts of Bethany out of her head and grabbed her laptop to get a little bit of work done. She’d gotten a new client recently and was roughing up some ideas for a website. But her stomach was unsettled about everything new she’d learned over the last twenty-four hours—about her brother, her parents, Bethany. Even coming up with color schemes wasn’t engaging her the way it normally did.
She finally gave up and closed her laptop with a huff. Andrew was going to come over for dinner tonight, but that wasn’t for another few hours. Maybe she could get out of the house and kill some time. Take her mind off everything for a moment, gain some fresh perspective.
Something hard to do when her mind kept recycling her mother’s remorseful face from last night.
Her plan of action decided, Maggie twisted her hair into a loose bun, tossed on a sweater, slipped into flats, then grabbed her purse and keys and headed downstairs. After grabbing her coat, she locked the door behind her, shivering at the brisk breeze that smacked her in the face. God, it was chilly out.
She practically ran to her car, her fingers and nose freezing. The sun was deceptively bright, but the air was frigid. Her breath huffed out in pants, and she slipped into her car, cranked up the heat and headed down the road.
On a whim, Maggie took a few back-road curves and pulled up to the road where her high school was. It was a weekday, but no one was milling around except a furtive smoker or two trying to hide from the administrators. So many memories filled her mind, times she’d spent with her sister and brother. With Andrew.
With Bethany.
The impulsive urge continued as Maggie drove past her school and swung a quick left. Bethany’s dad lived close to the school from what she remembered—she hadn’t visited his house again, but he was right on a corner, visible from school. She didn’t know why, but she parked on the street opposite his place and idled the car.
The place had been dumpy before. Now it was downright near dilapidated. How had the city not had the home razed? Huge chips of light gray paint were missing from the aluminum siding of the small bungalow. The screen door was ripped in several spots, barely hanging on to the hinges. The grass was brown and patchy, with clumps missing throughout. No flowers. No color. No life.
Maggie’s heart lurched when she saw Bethany’s Benz in the driveway. A pristine car, surrounded by ugliness.
So it was true. Bethany was here.
She should have known—Albert wasn’t going to lie to a client, of course. But somehow, seeing it made it more real for her.
Maggie’s grandfather had lots of money. Her parents did too. While her parents didn’t just throw money her way, she’d never had to worry about bills or clothes or food or any other material goods. Things had always just been plentiful.
Seeing this house brought a fresh pinch of guilt to her stomach. Bethany had grown up in this squalor. No wonder she had latched on to Maggie’s grandpa—she’d probably been desperate for a way out. And he’d provided one, all right.
And maybe that was why she’d been having sex with Robert too.
The anger that had burned in her gut now faded to a strange sort of pity. What a terrible life. Maggie couldn’t even imagine being that out of control, that needy for money. Maybe it wasn’t for her to judge.
The front door opened, and the screen door slammed to the side as an older man wearing a ratty blue plaid shirt and sweat pants barreled out. His stomach strained against the buttons of the shirt, and he was clutching a can of beer. His hair flopped as he walked with a swaying stride to Bethany’s car.
Bethany followed right on his heels, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a thin white T-shirt. Her hair was rough, and she had on no makeup or shoes. “No, Daddy!” she cried out, stopping in front of the car to stop his access to the door. “You can’t. This is mine.”
“Get outta my way,” he growled, scrabbling for the handle around her.
“You can’t take my car,” she said. Maggie could hear the wobble in her voice, see the urgency in her eyes. “It’s mine—it’s in my name. I’m not letting you have it.” She pressed her back firmly against the car, blocking the door.
Maggie thinned her lips, sucking in a quick breath through her nostrils. Should she go out there? But would it be right to intrude? Neither one had noticed her yet. Jumping in might make things worse.
He gripped Bethany’s arm, trying to yank her out of the way, but she remained frozen. The beer in his other hand sloshed out of the can. “Move, you stupid bitch. You’re living with me, so that means this car is mine.”
Bethany jerked her arm out of his grasp. Maggie could see red marks on her skin. She thrust her jaw out and didn’t say a word.
They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Maggie grabbed her phone and drew it into her lap, ready to call the cops or jump out if he touched her again.
His back stiffened, and he threw the beer bottle toward the house. It hit with a thud, beer splashing out all over the yard. “Get out,” he ground out. “Go shack up with some other asshole. Pack your shit and get out.” Then he spun around, wobbled a bit, and headed back inside, banging the door behind him.
Bethany stood stock still for a few seconds. Then she drew in a couple of breaths, steadied herself and followed him inside. The neighborhood went back to quietness again, nothing or n
o one disturbing the peace.
Unreal. No one deserved to be treated like that. How had Bethany’s life gotten so tragic? God, she’d fallen so far. Could she dig herself out of this hole? Where was she going to live now—would she try to shack up with Robert? Would he even take her in?
The woman had broken into Maggie’s parents’ house. Had slept with Maggie’s grandfather and brother. But at the moment, all Maggie could summon up in her was a healthy dose of pity. It was obvious why Bethany was chasing men like this—she was desperately looking for stability. An escape from her reality.
Could Maggie really blame her?
For a stupid second, Maggie was tempted to go inside and try to talk to Bethany. But the woman hated her. And despite pitying Bethany, Maggie still wasn’t so fond of her either. There were years of silence and awkwardness between them, starting from Maggie’s withdrawal back in college. No, even earlier, when Bethany would ditch her in high school to go sleep with her new bang-buddy each week. They’d all made their choices. Too late to change that now, right?
Maggie put her car into drive and headed back toward the center of town. Memories of high school Bethany, before things had gone bad, flipped through her mind like a photo album: them at the beach, slamming down burgers at the diner, laughing their way through a cheesy horror movie and getting kicked out of the theater.
Bethany’s persistent drama, most of it self-induced. It had gotten to be too much for Maggie, and she’d had to cut herself loose. But had she done more damage to the girl by abandoning her?
Who else could Bethany have had to turn to?
Maggie’s guilt grew another thick layer, piling on top of the shame already there. Things were impossibly complicated lately. Yes, Maggie could try to reach out . . . but the truth was, the two women were still in competition with each other. And odds were, Bethany would reject any overtures Maggie made, thinking it was a trick.
Hell, Maggie would react the same way if Bethany had come around with apologies and words of a truce. After all these years, it would be quite coincidental timing.
So much mistrust between them all. No one was talking. All these secrets were piling up one by one.
Well, no bridges were going to be repaired today. But Maggie needed to talk to Andrew, get his opinion. Perhaps he could offer a perspective on how she should handle things with her brother and with Bethany. And hell, with her parents too.
Apparently it was the day for impulsive decisions, because Maggie pulled into Starbucks and ordered two cups of coffee. Maybe she could swing by and give David a cup, just say hi. Their renewed friendship had gone too much to the wayside with the investigation and her relationship with Andrew.
And it would be nice to see a friendly face right now.
***
“That shrimp was delicious,” Andrew said, taking a sip of his chardonnay. He gave Maggie’s mother a warm smile. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had a home-cooked meal. I tend to eat a lot of takeout because of my hours at the firm.”
“Well, Maggie made it, not me. She’s picking up a lot of cooking skills being back home. Your parents moved to . . . California, is that right?”
He nodded with a small smile. “I don’t see them much anymore except for the holidays.”
Maggie reached over and squeezed Andrew’s hand under the table. Her polite smile was painfully forced around her mom, so she was glad to borrow from Andrew’s strength. Maggie had spent most of her day away from the house, window-shopping for her dad’s upcoming birthday. Then she’d come home, worked and made dinner. Her dad was working late—legitimately tonight, not just an attempt to avoid being home—so it was only the three of them sitting around the table and drinking a post-meal glass of wine.
It had been good, doing something normal and non-case-related. Just relaxing with the man she adored. Her mom had been quiet for the most part, but the tension from years of bottled secrets seemed to have vanished a bit from her body, from the lines around her eyes. She looked weary though, a luster in her irises dulled in a way Maggie had never seen.
Maggie couldn’t help but still feel tense around her, though most of her initial explosive anger from that night had faded. She’d promised herself that it would all be dealt with. But now was not the time.
Her mom stood and stretched, grabbing her glass. “Well, I’m tired. I’m heading up to bed.”
Maggie gave a stiff nod. The two of them hadn’t talked any more about the conversation, but there wasn’t anything else to say. Yes, she wanted to know why her mom had cheated. Why they had fallen apart. But would prying right now make anything better?
And were those confessions really supposed to be for her, anyway?
The communication between the two of them was awkward, stilted, and that was just going to take time to heal. But at least there weren’t massive lies hanging over their heads anymore. The act of purging had obviously helped her mom lose some of that tension.
“Good night, Mrs. Willings,” Andrew said politely.
“Mrs. Willings was my mother-in-law. Call me Susan,” Maggie’s mom said. “And you two don’t stay up too late.”
After her mother left, Maggie shook her head and sighed. “I’m in my midtwenties, and she’s still parenting me.”
“I don’t think that’s ever gonna stop,” Andrew said. “My mom still asks me if I’m doing my laundry the right way, sorting the whites and reds from the other colors. Parents are born to micromanage their children.”
Maggie gripped her wineglass. Finally they were alone. She’d called Andrew earlier today to warn him about what had happened, in case he wanted to back out of dinner, but he’d insisted on still coming over. And for that she was grateful. She didn’t know what would have happened if she’d had to dine alone with her mom tonight.
“You doing okay?” He slid his fingers along her temple and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know that was hard, but you did a good job keeping it together.”
She shrugged. “Is it ever gonna be okay? I just can’t stop feeling bad for my dad, and then I get these surges of anger at her. I don’t know how to turn that off, even though I don’t want to think about it right now. There are other things on my mind as well.” Taking a sip of wine, she filled Andrew in on everything she’d learned and seen about Bethany. “And now I’m at a total loss,” she said. “Because I don’t have any idea where Bethany is right now. She could be sleeping on the street for all I know.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said soothingly, taking her free hand in his and stroking his thumb over her palm. “First, we don’t know what they talked about when they got back in the house. Maybe they made up.”
Maggie gave a small, derisive snort.
“Yeah, okay, probably not,” he conceded. “But Bethany does know people other than you. I’m sure she has somewhere to stay.”
“Like maybe with my brother.” She still wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
He nodded.
“I just . . . There is so much tension lurking around here, so many secrets and lies. My mom seemed different at dinner today after she confessed,” Maggie said, waving in the direction of where her mother had exited the dining room. “She obviously needed to get that off her chest. Maybe we should do something like that, like you’d suggested before. With my brother and Bethany. Sit down and talk, get it all out.”
“Hm.” He took a large draw from his glass, then resumed his touch on her hand. The gesture sent delicious shivers through her palm, up her arm. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. Maybe if we tell them what we know about them, we can encourage them to open up and share. Even say that this isn’t about the case, so that pressure isn’t there. We were all close at one time. Maybe this is the right time to try to fix that. Or at least head in the right direction.”
Maggie nodded, a kernel of excitement building in her stomach. Maybe it co
uld work. But would her brother talk about his problems? And would Bethany confess her money issues? “What if they won’t?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
He was right. If they were going to get to the truth, Maggie needed to take the risk and reach out to them. Her stomach fluttered madly.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
Chapter 28
It took Maggie well into the next morning to drum up her courage to call Bethany and Robert. For a good two hours she dawdled with working on the new website design, checked email, straightened up the kitchen—anything to avoid what was coming.
When she finally called her brother, his phone went straight to voice mail. “Hey, Robert,” she said, clearing her throat. “Call me—it’s Maggie. We need to talk, all four of us. Um, to sit down and meet, actually. I want to get together tonight at the house. I’m calling Bethany next and asking her to meet us here. Okay, call me back. Bye.” Wow, that was painful and awkward. No doubt he could hear the stuttering anxiety in her tone.
But at least it was done.
The next call was going to be harder. Because while she had some empathy for Bethany, given what she’d seen yesterday, she was still angry with the woman over all the issues between them and didn’t know how to let that go. And if she sounded bitter or frustrated on the phone, Bethany wasn’t going to agree to a heart-to-heart.
Maybe she should have let Andrew handle it. He’d offered last night—several times, in fact—but she’d turned him down, saying she felt it was her obligation to handle it. Her brother. Her ex–best friend.
Screwing up her courage, she made herself dial the phone number. One ring. Two rings. She was about to hang up and try again later when it picked up.
“Hello?”
“Bethany?” Maggie settled into a chair at the kitchen table, fiddling with the edge of a placemat.
“Yes?” The voice was cautious. “Who is this?”
“Um, it’s Maggie. I’d like to talk. For all of us to talk.”
The Inheritance Part V Page 3