“Yeah, me too and I guarantee you, my connection trumps his. Richard Benton isn’t dating former Garland County Sheriff Bradford Wilson. I am.”
Despite the tension in the room from Sam’s tale of woe, both sisters burst out laughing.
“Oh, Sam! Richard’s going to rue the day he was born. Rue I tell you! Mama Bear’s on the hunt and she’s got back up and bullets!”
Chill bumps burst from Sam’s skin. The thought of revealing the truth and the chance Richard might find out made her feel sick. Her laughter ceased. “I don’t think…”
“Samantha Marie—you need help. Richard’s behavior needs to be documented in case something pops up later. I’m going to make sure you’re protected from all sides. You need to tell Bradford everything—even the things you are keeping from us.”
“Mom…I…”
“No arguing, Samantha. You need someone in your corner in case things take a nosedive. Please, trust me on this. I assume the agreement you keep referring to deals with something you’re holding over his head to keep him at bay?”
Taking a deep breath, Sam closed her eyes, nodding once.
Charmee took a few steps toward the conference room when Bradford’s deep baritone answered. A rush of excitement raced to her cheeks when she heard his voice. Her lips curved into a smile. “Hey, baby.”
Suzy pinched her sister’s arm. “Oh, God. Did she just say ‘hey baby’ or am I hallucinating?”
Opening her eyes, Sam grimaced. “Yes, she did.”
“I’m going to yak.”
“Get the wine. If I’m half-bombed, it’ll help me cope with the fact Mom’s getting her freak on with someone else and maybe ease the task of sharing the rest of my fucked-up story. I think.”
“I have a feeling nothing is going to make this easier, Sam. At least you won’t be traveling this road alone any longer. God, I’m so sorry you bore all this by yourself for so long. I didn’t realize the depth of the issue.”
“I’m the one who kept you in the dark, Suzy. Please don’t apologize.”
“I know we had our share of differences over the years. I don’t believe either of us relished being a twin, which is why I think we fought so hard to be different from one another. You were the book nerd with a mouth.”
Sam laughed. “True and you turned into the socialite party girl.”
“Hell, we even went to different colleges to escape having to look at each other’s faces all the time. You went one direction after college and I headed off into another. But you know what? The past is the past, so it is time to reunite, reconnect, and recharge our bond.”
“I love you, Suzy. Always have. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Keeping your word. You never told Mom what you knew or suspected. I though you would crack under the pressure.”
Suzy grinned. “I’m stronger than most people give me credit for, even you. Besides, Mom and Big Sam didn’t raise fools. I think ol’ Dickhead Benton is about to find out messing with a passel of pissed off southern women is a huge mistake.”
Sam’s stomach burned with worry. “I sure hope so.”
“I know so. I get the chance to return the favor from seventh grade. Like you said back then, no one messes with my sister.”
“Or my daughter. The Hawthorne women are fierce.” Charmee added after disconnecting the call.
“The Chapman women are fierce.”
Charmee rolled her eyes at Sam’s comment. “Bradford’s on his way. ETA five minutes.”
“ETA? You’re using cop lingo now?”
“Oh stop, Suzanne. I’m repeating the words he used. Samantha, let’s have that glass of wine now. It’ll relax your nerves before he gets here.”
“On it!”
While Suzy scrounged for the wine and glasses, Charmee pulled her other daughter into a warm embrace. “You remember my dear: We’re a force to be reckoned with alone but together, the gates of Hades can’t hold us back.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Friday, November 25, 2016
“BYE, BABY. HAVE a wonderful time with your dad. See you Sunday.”
Grayson waved to his mom from the passenger seat after shutting the door before turning his attention to the Gameboy.
At the curb, Kathy handed Kip a large mug full of stout black coffee. “Will you please stop looking like you lost your best friend? This is the best season of the year—the holidays! We’re staying together and a money train just rolled into town. You should be beaming.”
After taking a long sip, Kip forced a smile. “If your head hurt as much as…”
“Stop whining. You’re old enough to know drinking too much takes its toll. I need you fresh, focused, and on point for tomorrow. Where’s the list I made out for you last night of electronics you need to buy?”
“Right here.” Kip patted the front pocket on his jeans.
“Good boy. Remember to keep that sexy smile on at all times. Show up at Sam’s place tomorrow on time and get the surveillance equipment installed undetected. If you need to get her out of the house just tell her you forgot something and need her to go to a hardware store to pick it up. From what you shared with me Wednesday night, she’s probably still freaked out about the violent, former boyfriend coming back. She’ll do anything to stay safe.”
Kip furrowed his brow. “You’re freaking me out. What’s going on inside your head, huh?”
“Lots of things but nothing you need to worry about. I told you I have a plan. Go and let me work it.”
“Can’t we forget about the nightmare and work on us? For Grayson’s sake? Why don’t I go pack up my stuff in Arkansas, sell my parents’ house, and move back…?”
“No!” Kathy’s anger flared. Taking a deep breath to control the volume of her voice, she forced a seductive grin. “We’re staying together for Grayson’s sake and our love. This other stuff is icing on the cake, sweetheart. A lot of icing.”
“Are you sure? It would break my heart if you decided to stick with me for money.”
Kathy edged closer, turning her back toward the truck so their son couldn’t see her hand Kip’s crotch. “It would be foolish to give up having this monster inside me again, and I’m no fool. We scrounged to survive our entire marriage and I stayed. I decided to end it because you wouldn’t quit drinking. Remember?”
Kip moaned. On autopilot, his dick turned into a rock at her touch, even thru the jeans. “Oh, God. I miss you. I’ll quit, baby. If I need to go to rehab to let go of my love of bourbon, I will. Whatever it takes. I love you.”
“I miss you too, big boy. Bad. I’ll make up for it on Sunday, I promise. I’ll call the sitter. We can get a hotel room and fuck like teenagers again—all night. If you let me handle things, neither of us will have to work ever again. When Grayson’s at school, we can play all you want.”
Sucking in a lungful of cool air, Kip backed away before exploding in his pants. “Okay, okay. I’ll let you take care of everything but please, baby, hurry. I need to fuck you sideways. Soon.”
“By the time you get back Sunday, I’ll have everything ready and the plan in motion. Now go and let me get to work.”
Nodding once, Kip picked up Grayson’s overnight bag and headed to the truck. Glancing back once, he smiled. He had fuzzy memories of Kathy grilling him Wednesday night as she watched over him while her devious brain chugged and churned, yet she still looked beautiful under the early morning sun’s ray. The sunglasses hid the wrinkles around her eyes. The lines were the only thing giving away her age. His wife’s smoking body still looked and moved like that of a college coed.
Starting the truck up, he felt a surge of pride when looking at his son. Grayson’s face and hair were carbon copies of Kip’s yet his skin color was lighter like his mother’s. The sunlight caught a few strands of red woven in his hair. The image made the events of the last three days roar back, making his stomach lurch. The coffee rolling around his empty gut didn’t help any, either.
Don’t think about wh
at happened, fool. You didn’t know. Erase it from your mind, like the…oh, shit. The pictures! I need to get rid of them before Kathy sees them. Wait, don’t panic. If she snooped through my phone…no, she didn’t find them. That hellcat would’ve kicked my ass all the way back to Little Rock had she seen what Suzy and I texted to each other.
“Yes! Level 52! I was stuck at 51 for two weeks! Can we stop by Scoops to celebrate, Dad?”
Snapped back from the panicked funk, Kip backed out of the parking lot. “Sure thing, son.”
KATHY WAITED UNTIL Kip’s truck disappeared into traffic. The second he was gone, the fake smile vanished. She hurried back inside the apartment.
“Whatever it takes, baby,” she mimicked his voice. “I love you. Yeah, right, asshole. Bet you neglected to mention to your whore you still had feelings for your wife, didn’t you? Well husband, guess what? Two can play this game, and I’m better at lying.”
Stopping in the bedroom, she reached for the phone, hitting the search bar. Before typing in the first word, she paused. Though not an expert when it came to technology, she knew movements online were traceable. From this point forward, she needed to think through every step. One wrong move might come back to haunt her later.
Setting the cell down, she went to the kitchen, rummaging around in the junk drawer until finding the yellow pages. Flipping over to attorneys, she scanned the listings. There were hundreds in Memphis, and close to twenty near the apartment.
“Divorce, divorce, DWI, even ambulance chasers! Dammit, come on! I need one who handles probate cases!”
A small ad on the bottom right corner caught her attention. Jensen Sinclair, Esquire, specializing in trusts, wills, estate planning and probate.
Racing back to the bedroom, she dug around in her purse for the burner cell she used only to text her coke dealer. Fingers shaking, she dialed the number, hoping the legal-beagle steered clear of shopping on Black Friday.
“Jensen Sinclair.”
“Uh, yes, hi. I need to make an appointment with Mr. Sinclair. Today please.”
“I’m Mr. Sinclair. My secretary’s out today, sick with the Black Friday bug. I’m not in the office either. Calls are forwarded to my cell phone. Please call back Monday and make an appointment…”
“No, please.” Kathy forced her voice to sound worried rather than pissed off. “I found out some disturbing news from my family. I can’t wait until Monday or I’ll go insane! Please, is there any way we can meet today? I’ll pay extra for the consultation, you know, for your troubles?”
There was a long pause followed by a heavy sigh.
“What kind of legal trouble are you having, ma’am?”
Kathy forced the tears. “I would rather not to tell the story twice. Please?”
“I understand. Can you be at my office in an hour?”
“Yes, thank you so much! I’ll see you then.”
“Miss? Your name?”
Never missing a beat, the lie slid off Kathy’s tongue with practiced ease. “Shannon Simpson. Thank you so much, Mr. Sinclair. I appreciate it.”
“See you in an hour. Oh, and the consultation fee is $250. Cash.”
Kathy’s mouth dropped open. “No problem. See you then.”
Disconnecting the call before losing her temper and saying something regrettable, she threw the phone across the room. Grabbing the wallet from her purse, she checked the compartment where she hid some of her tip money. Normally, she used the stash to buy coke. There was a little over $300 inside.
“Jensen Sinclair, you better be worth all this money. I’m missing out on a lot of blow for an hour of your precious fucking time.”
AN HOUR LATER, Kathy’s legs shook while scanning the empty parking lot. She smoked three cigarettes while waiting for the idiot lawyer to show up. She hated it when people were late.
An older model BMW, full of more rust than paint, pulled into the shopping strip. She held her breath, waiting to see if it parked near the office. Sure enough, the car pulled right up next to hers.
“About time, you dick.” Kathy stepped out into the cool air.
“Ms. Simpson?”
Nodding once, she smiled. The man had to be pushing seventy. His attire looked like he walked off the television set of a 1970s beach show. The colors in the Hawaiian shirt were so loud they probably glowed at night. Kathy had a leather jacket and boots on and was still chilly, yet the old man sported flip flops, Bermuda shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.
“Come inside and tell me what’s going on.”
Following the old man, Kathy fought the urge to wince upon entering the small, stinky office. Dust coated every surface, along with stacks and stacks of paper files. No computer in sight, only an ancient, electric typewriter.
If Mr. Sinclair had a secretary, she was out dead, not sick, or maybe buried underneath the mounds of paperwork.
“Please, sit.” Jensen pointed to a chair across from the desk. Rummaging around in the middle drawer, he extracted a yellow legal pad then slipped on reading glasses. “I’ll need to get some information first. Your full name, address, and telephone number please?”
Kathy sat with trepidation, praying the chair wasn’t full of bugs or so old it collapsed under her weight. She rattled off the burner cell number then almost slipped up. “Ka…Shannon Simpson, 106 Sycamore Lane, Apartment 3C, Memphis, 38103.”
After scribbling the information down, Jensen held out his hand. “And the fee.”
Extracting the cash from her purse, Kathy contained the urge to throw it across the desk at the old geezer.
“Thank you. Okay, tell me what’s going on.”
“Well, the story is sort of weird, so forgive me if I get upset again. I found out two days ago. I’m having trouble grasping what it all means.”
“Found out what, Ms. Simpson?”
“A relative passed away. I didn’t know until a few days ago he even existed. He was worth a lot of money. I need to know what my rights are.”
Leaning back in the chair, Jensen studied the woman across from him. He could tell she was lying, and suspected she was jonesing for some type of drug. Based on her looks, he guessed meth or coke. “What is your relationship to the decedent, and when did he pass?”
“Decedent?”
“Sorry. Legal term. The person who died.”
“Oh, gotcha. It’s my father. Well, like I said, I didn’t know he was my father until a few days ago. Hell, I didn’t even know I was adopted. Gosh, so many new things to wrap my mind around! Oh, and he died a little over six years ago.”
“I see. Do you know if his estate was probated? Are there any living heirs besides you? What about your biological mother? Is she still alive?”
“I don’t know about my biological mother. Like I said, I just found out I was adopted. My, um, adoptive parents never told me.”
“I see. Again, do you know if any of his heirs are still alive and was his estate probated?”
Kathy bit the inside of her cheek to keep her temper in check. “A few, yes. His wife and children. And yes, I believe there was some sort of court thing done.”
“In Tennessee?”
Kathy hesitated. “Arkansas.”
Jensen rubbed his chin while trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He sensed what the woman said was the truth, yet something still didn’t seem right about the entire situation. He wondered if she had a love-child with the decedent and was trying to finagle a way into the family’s money by producing an heir. She looked like the type of woman to stoop to such a level.
He didn’t buy the line it was her biological father they were talking about. “I’m sorry for your loss Ms. Simpson, however, I’m afraid I don’t have good news to share.”
Kathy furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”
“You have two things going against you. In most states, including Arkansas and Tennessee, when an adoption decree is entered, it ends the legal relationship between the birth parents and the child, and thus, severs the righ
t of the child to any inheritance from the biological parents.”
Kathy swallowed hard. “What’s the second piece of bad news?”
“Once an estate is opened, there’s a time limit on filing a claim against it. There would have been a notice published in the local newspaper regarding your father’s death, giving any creditors or claimants six months to file documentation with the court. I realize you are an heir and not a creditor, so…”
“But he…I…I didn’t know he was my father! I mean, how is it my fault I was given up for adoption? I just found out! How is this fair? He’s worth a shit ton of money! Don’t I have rights?”
“If you were legally adopted then no, you have no rights to his estate. I’m sorry.”
A sprig of hope swelled inside Kathy’s chest. “I’m only going by what was told to me. What if I find out the adoption wasn’t legal? You know, not through the court?”
“It would solve one problem but not the other. Ignorance of one’s rights doesn’t negate the statute of limitations in a case. However, if the family fraudulently and willfully concealed the identity of another heir from the case, the statute of limitations doesn’t begin to run until the fraud is discovered, which means the minute you petitioned the court, time would start.”
“How much time?”
“If the administrator of the estate wasn’t bonded, five years. If bonded, eight. Those are the rules in Tennessee courts.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“To a degree. In the case of an estate closed for such a long period of time, it would take a lot of effort and money to reopen it. Even if you were successful in doing so, the funds of the estate have been disbursed. What is left to fight for, besides the official acknowledgment from the court you’re the decedent’s child?”
Kathy wanted to shoot out of the chair and yell, yet she remained seated. “What’s left to fight for? Are you kidding me? A fortune! I only want what’s rightfully mine.”
Fatal Agreements Page 10