The Inheritance Part II

by Olivia Mayfield

  “Yes, I’m pretty sure I remember her,” Maggie interrupted, trying to prevent another reprimanding glare from their mom at Robert. How had she forgotten what a small town it was here? How everyone was so nosy?

  She’d been all too happy to leave that behind for the anonymity of a big-city college down in Florida.

  “So what were you guys meeting about?” Robert’s words were casual, but the wide smile on his face was just a little too fake to ring true. It didn’t meet his eyes. “Was it something about Cassandra?”

  He was nosing for information. Again. She should have expected it. Too lazy to do his own investigative work—he probably hadn’t started any at all and was hoping to mooch off everyone else. Hell, odds were he’d be hitting her up again in a day or two for anything new she’d managed to dig up.

  “I told Andrew about the break-in,” she replied coolly.

  Their parents shot each other a slanted look but stayed silent, focusing on their mashed potatoes.

  “Why would you do that?” Robert asked, brow furrowed. “If it was him and not Bethany who did it, then you just showed him your weakness. That you’re vulnerable and freaked out by what happened.”

  “You’re making an awful lot of assumptions about me,” she countered, wanting to hide her paranoia about the break-in from him. “And no, I don’t believe it was him. It was probably Bethany, like you’d suggested. As evidenced by her coming back earlier today to finish what she’d started.” Yeah, she was still pissed about that and shocked at the woman’s lack of moral decency. Her brother, however, hadn’t seemed too surprised when their mother had told him.

  Her mom tilted her head and looked at Maggie. “You weren’t home when the first break-in happened, right? So why wouldn’t the intruder have gone through Cassandra’s room then, when no one was around?”

  Hm. She was right. Things weren’t adding up here.

  Maggie’s phone vibrated from her pocket. She tugged it out, not sure if she should answer it right now, since that was rude to do so at the table. But it could be David, needing to cancel or change dinner from Monday night.

  However, upon looking, it was a local number she didn’t know.

  She stood up. Something in her gut said she should answer the phone. “I’m gonna take this call,” she told them. “I’ll be right back.” Maggie slipped into the family room and answered. “Hello?”

  A man cleared his throat then said, “Uh, hello? Is this Maggie Willings?”

  “This is she.”

  Another throat-clearing. “Um, this is Joel Neumeyer. I . . . got a message from you a few days ago, asking me to call you back.”

  Her heart skipped a beat or two and her hand shook in excitement. Finally, something happening with the investigation. “Thank you for calling me,” she said in a quieter tone, stepping closer to the picture window. She kept her back to the dining room and peered outside into the darkness covering their massive front yard. “When I didn’t hear back from you, I was afraid you wouldn’t return my call.”

  “I almost didn’t,” he admitted. There was a loud banging noise on his end, and some voices. “Hold on,” he said, and the line went silent for a moment.

  She checked her phone to make sure he hadn’t hung up. The seconds were still ticking by though, indicating the call was still live. God, please don’t let this fall apart, she prayed silently.

  “Okay, I’m back,” Joel said.

  Maggie almost wilted in relief.

  “You said you needed to talk to me about Cassandra.” There was a thread of tension in his voice. “Why?”

  Maggie spent a few minutes filling him in on the same story she’d told David, about being in town for a bit and reopening the case, during which time Joel’s end of the phone remained eerily silent.

  “So I was hoping . . . I know you were at that party,” she said in a rush, “and I wasn’t sure if you’d heard or seen anything there, any small detail at all, that you could please tell me. Or maybe we could even just talk about what happened that day that you remember, and you can fill in some of the blanks. I’m not expecting anything big from you, but the last time I’d seen her was before she left. So I’m missing big parts in this case.”

  She knew her voice had slipped into pleading. But this was her big break so far. He had to know something, even if he wasn’t certain he did.

  He sighed heavily. “Look, I wrestled with this for a while because I had a feeling you were gonna ask me about that night. I almost didn’t call because I wanted to forget it had happened. But I liked your sister. She was beautiful and fun and deserved . . . Well, anyway, I have some information that I want you to know.”

  Her heart slammed against her rib cage. She gripped her cell phone tighter. “And that is?”

  “Not over the phone,” he said thickly. She heard another sharp intake of breath. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about what happened that night, Maggie. It’ll change everything for you and this case. I can’t say it all on the phone. So let’s meet.”

  “Tell me where,” she replied instantly. “When and where, and I’ll be there.”

  His end went silent again.

  “Joel?” she asked after a few moments.

  More rustling. “Okay, meet me at Huntington Beach tomorrow night. Alone.” He was speaking really fast now, as if he was eager to get off the line.

  “Absolutely. But it’ll have to be in the later evening, if that’s okay—I have a meeting I have to attend first, and then dinner with someone.” That stupid check-in meeting. She’d be damned if she was going to tell them about this lead, though.

  “Fine, fine,” he said dismissively. “Look, I gotta go. Be in the parking lot at nine, okay? My car’s a bright yellow Fiat.”

  He hung up before she could agree or disagree.

  She sat down on the edge of the couch for a moment, conflicting emotions battling for space in her. The thrill of getting some answers, finally—what did Joel have to say to her? But there was also fear, thrumming low in her belly. Because she had a strong feeling she wasn’t going to like what he told her. While it would give her answers, it probably wouldn’t be what she wanted to hear.

  There was a strange thread in his voice. He sounded . . . paranoid. Edgy. Hopefully she could coax him tomorrow at the beach, help him relax enough to open up and talk.

  Why did he choose to meet there, of all places? Was it because of the many happy memories they had at the beach? The parties? Did he think it would be private enough for them?

  “Everything okay?” her mom asked from the dining room.

  Maggie tucked her phone into her purse and stood. “It’s fine. Sorry, that was a work call I had to take.” She hated lying to her parents, but with Robert in the room, she couldn’t very well tell them the truth.

  She returned to the table and finished her steak and asparagus, in spite of the nervous swirl in her stomach. Tomorrow was going to be a stressful, strange day. She just hoped she was prepared for it.

  ***

  “I think my legs look killer sexy in this skirt,” Cassandra said, her bright red lips curved into a wicked smile as she struck an exaggerated pose in Maggie’s room. Her T-shirt was pink, skin-tight and had the word hottie scrawled across the front. On her feet was a pair of woven wedge sandals.

  Maggie groaned and flopped back on her bed. “Yes, you look foxy,” she mumbled through her throbbing headache, peering up at the ceiling. She, on the other hand, looked and felt like garbage—sweat pants and a baggy T-shirt, hair flung in a messy ponytail, not a stitch of makeup on. Her eyes were puffy and nearly swollen shut from all the crying she’d done for the last hour.

  Cassandra slid onto the edge of the bed and stared down at Maggie’s face, her wide eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?” she asked softly, nibbling on her lower lip. “We’ll find you someone new to have fun with. Someone who can take your mind off Andrew.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and fresh pain sprung anew in
her chest. Maggie swallowed. “I don’t want someone new,” she whispered. She loved Andrew, still, despite him dumping her in the most asshole way possible. She sniffled. “Besides, I look horrible and I don’t want to see anyone we know.”

  Cassandra stroked the top of Maggie’s hair. “If he’s there tonight, I’ll kick him in the crotch for you.”

  She managed a watery smile. “Thanks.”

  Her sister stood, straightening her skirt, then stared at Maggie for almost a full minute without speaking. Her eyes went from wide open to slowly drifting closed as she remained stiff and motionless in the middle of the room.

  Maggie’s heart thudded and her skin crawled. This felt . . . wrong. Why was this wrong?

  Because this wasn’t what had happened.

  She darted her eyes around the room. Her posters and pictures were gone, replaced with plain white walls. She was no longer in sweatpants and a tee but in slim yoga pants and a black tank top.

  “I’m so tired,” Cassandra suddenly whispered, her bare skin growing waxy and so sheer, the veins beneath her flesh shone in blue streaks. The lipstick faded until her mouth was a bruised purple color. She opened her eyes, and the pupils were so wide there was only a thin rim of blue iris. “I’m going now.”

  Maggie wanted to sit up but she couldn’t. She was frozen in place, tongue thick in her mouth, chest tight. She lay on her bed, staring helplessly over at her sister as she turned on her heel, drifted toward the closed bedroom door and vanished through it.

  “Don’t leave!” she finally cried out, but it was too late.

  Her sister was gone.

  Maggie woke up, covered in a thin layer of sweat and shaking. The blankets were twisted around her legs, and her room was barely visible in the thin fingers of early morning light slipping through her blinds. With a grimace she looked at her phone. Only a few minutes after six.

  Another nightmare. This one about the last time she’d seen Cassandra. The night of that damned party.

  A frustrated, strangled sob forced its way up Maggie’s throat, and she pushed a pillow over her face to cover the sound. God, these nightmares were getting far too vivid. Too realistic. Why wouldn’t they go away? What was her subconscious trying to say?

  Guilt was eating away at her—that much was for sure. If she’d gone, she could have watched her sister. Maybe even have prevented her disappearance. And right on the heels of that guilt was red-hot anger.

  Anger at herself, of course. And at her brother, for being too busy getting shit-face wasted with his idiotic friends to watch his baby sister when she’d needed him.

  She hated that she felt that way, knew it was wrong to blame him for it, but that was the bald, bold truth. In reality, both she and Robert had failed Cassandra. They shared equal fault.

  Was he haunted by his sister in his dreams too? Did he feel any guilt over what had happened, over his self-absorbed destruction that had played a minor part in this?

  Maggie flung her legs over the side of the bed, staring at her yoga pants and the slender ribbing of her black tank top. In her dream she’d shifted from her teenaged self to her current self. Past and present, blending into one indistinguishable timeline.

  She needed coffee. She needed to shake off this dream before delving into work.

  Luck was on her side. Her dad was already awake and working on his mug as he read the morning paper. The strong scent of coffee beans filled the kitchen, and she released a grateful sigh as she made her own cup.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said, slipping across the table from him and cupping her chilly fingers around the hot mug. She took a sip.

  He glanced up at her from the news and his face grew even more serious. He folded the paper and put it on the table. “You look terrible.”

  “Thanks,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  He shook his head. “No, you look like you’re not sleeping. Is this investigation getting to be too much?”

  For a brief moment she wanted to dump all of her stress on her dad’s broad shoulders, like she used to do when she was a kid. Tell him about the nightmares, her fears and guilt and worry. But he wasn’t looking so wonderful either, now that she eyed him closer. His eyes had dark smudges under them, the wrinkles on his face more pronounced. He looked far older than he actually was. Age accelerated by years of stress.

  No, this was her burden to bear now.

  She reached over and patted his hand. “I’ll be okay,” she told him, forcing a smile to her face. “I’m just getting used to being home again, that’s all.”

  He gave her his usual warm grin in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m glad to have you here, even if it’s under these circumstances. You never stay around long enough anymore.”

  Self-reproach flared in her chest. By running from her past, she’d run from them too. Not only had they lost Cassandra, but in a way, they’d lost her as well. Her face fell. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He sighed. “Maggie, I didn’t tell you that to make you feel guilty. We’re all dealing with this in our own way. But . . . we shouldn’t let that be an excuse for losing touch. I’ve missed you, honey.”

  She leaped out of her seat and hugged him close. He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve missed you too,” she said, breathing in the crisp scent of his Old Spice cologne.

  Despite the stress and hardship right now, she still had him to lean on, even if she couldn’t divulge everything going on. Something she realized she’d missed and undervalued.

  At least she was here now, and she could hopefully start repairing those bridges.

  Chapter 11

  “It’s been a week since I presented you with the letters,” Mr. Webber said on Monday afternoon. He stood near the large open window in the law office’s meeting room, his gaze roaming from person to person. “I wanted to check in with each of you and find out how things were going, if anyone had any questions or concerns for me.”

  Robert cleared his throat and shot a meaningful look at Maggie, who scowled at him in return. Like she needed that unsubtle hint. She’d already planned to mention the break-in to Mr. Webber, plus Bethany’s unwelcome visit. It was apparent the rules about legality needed to be stated a little bit firmer.

  Andrew’s gaze flattened as he looked at Robert, then Maggie. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Bethany yet—by the time she’d finished her design work and met him in the lobby of the law office, it was only a minute before their meeting. He probably wasn’t going to be too happy when he found out.

  “Tell him,” Robert said to Maggie then shot a heated glance at Bethany. “About your stuff getting stolen.”

  Maggie sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve had a couple of incidents happen,” she started saying to Mr. Webber, explaining how her parents’ house had been broken into and her computer smashed. “It had to be someone who knows about the inheritance, because the damage was very focused and nothing was stolen but my notes.” She shot a brief look at Bethany.

  Bethany blinked then flushed bright red when she realized she was suspected of the incident. Her gaze skittered around the room as she looked for an empathetic face. “It wasn’t me,” she protested.

  Great acting job, Maggie thought snidely. Except she didn’t buy it for one second. “And then, Bethany invited herself over and decided to dig through my sister’s bedroom. Without my mother’s permission. She had to be kicked out.”

  Mr. Webber’s eyes popped wide open. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Maggie said, resting her forearms on the table. “I’m just pissed.” And tired. And scared. Not that she’d mention that here, of course.

  Andrew, who was seated at the table across from her, remained silent, his jaw clenched. Maggie couldn’t read him at all, though he had to be ticked. Hopefully she could talk to him after the meeting. She had a small window of time before going to dinner with David.

  And then her meeting with Joel.

  Though she felt uncomfort
able for breaking their rule of open communication, she’d ultimately decided to not tell Andrew anything about meeting with Joel until afterward. Despite his foreboding words on the phone, the man might not have anything of value to contribute to the investigation, and then she’d have gotten both of their hopes up in vain.

  Plus, if she were being honest with herself, she knew Andrew would insist on coming with her. And this was something she had to do alone. Joel was already edgy enough talking to only her. Andrew’s intensity and presence would likely scare him off, and they’d be back to square one.

  “This is highly unacceptable,” Mr. Webber said loudly, looking around the room. His thin voice grew boisterous as he continued. “I thought I’d made it perfectly clear that nothing illegal or immoral was allowed. Mr. Holden would have been furious.”

  “But Jeffrey—” Bethany started, her high-pitched voice sounding whiny.

  Mr. Webber held up a hand to silence her, his voice taking a steely edge. “There’s no excuse. If another illegal incident involving the case happens, and I find out it was one of you four who caused it, I will call the police. Good luck solving the mystery and claiming the inheritance from prison.”

  Maggie blinked. She had no idea Mr. Webber had this kind of backbone in him. No wonder her grandfather had trusted him with the inheritance.

  “I hope I’ve made myself clear this time,” he continued, slitting his eyes and looking at Bethany, then the rest of them.

  Everyone nodded. Bethany fixed her gaze on her clenched hands, propped on the table. Her cheeks burned a dull red, matching the color of her fingernails.

  “Did anyone else have anything happen this week?” Mr. Webber asked.

  No one piped up, and silence stretched out for far too long. Big surprise. Who would be the first to share progress?

  Andrew looked over at Robert, who was staring at Bethany. So many secrets spilling over as the days progressed. How could she trust anyone here fully?