“No,” I said. “Not really. After this, I’m done. Between you and this,” I paused, waving my hand, “whatever kind of mess Father’s gotten himself into, I’m done. I’m done with it all.”
If my flat denial of her request had been a slap in the face, this was like a swing from Babe Ruth’s baseball bat.
She shook her head a little and fluttered her eyelids. “Pardon me?”
“You heard me. I’m finished. After this, I don’t want any more contact with either of you.”
“Your allowance, though?” she asked, almost staggering. “Your trust fund?”
“Do you really think it’s going to be there after everything is said and done? We’re ruined, Elizabeth. We’re absolutely ruined. And, even if we weren’t, what good has it done for me? Surrounded me with fake people? With people just trying to get at my father’s money?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You don’t get it, do you? The long hours your father worked, the decades your grandfather worked to get this for you. You are utterly ungrateful.”
“That’s rich coming from a woman who hitched herself to this family just last year!” I took a step closer, jabbing a finger at her for emphasis. “You’re not my mother, and you never will be. She was twice the woman you pretend to be.”
She made a noise of frustration, something animalistic and low. Not quite a growl, but not quite a whine. “Fine.” She took a step back and swiped absently at a bang that wasn’t there. “That’s just fine, Ashley.” She turned on her heel and left.
As my stepmother left the office, muscles I hadn’t realized were even tense uncoiled and relaxed. I collapsed into the chair, all the breath coming out of me in a giant gush like one immense release.
Back in the little office area, Sheriff Peak and my stepmother discussed the next best time for them to meet together.
I listened to them nattering back and forth, not surprised when Peak finally just rolled over and accepted whatever time she offered for him to meet her somewhere more convenient. Clearly, he just wanted this to be over with.
“Well,” he said as he came in and shut the door behind him, “your stepmother’s quite the woman.”
“She’s something, alright.”
He came around and settled into his desk. “Don’t worry, Ms. Maxwell, this really shouldn’t take that long. Just a few questions to fire off at you, is all.”
I straightened up a little in my seat and gave him a little nod. “Well, fire away then, sheriff. I’ll be as helpful as I can.”
As he began to pepper me with questions, I tried as hard as I could to focus on the situation at hand. My thoughts wandered, though, to Frank. More than anything, I wanted to be out of that office and back in his arms.
And, then of course, my wandering thoughts moved onto the imminent board meeting at M Three Investments. Even though I’d just told Elizabeth to get out of my life and stay out of it, I was worried. My father was, after all, still my father. A voice whispering at the back of my mind told me that, whatever they decided, it wasn’t going to be good for my father or the whole family.
I just hoped that neither Frank nor I would get dragged into this mess that we already were in any further. That same voice, though? It chattered right along, murmuring about how I should know better than to hope for the impossible.
Chapter Thirty-six – Frank
If Elizabeth Maxwell recognized me from the day before at the Durango office, she sure as hell didn’t show it. Of course, her nose was so high up in the air she probably didn’t even see me sitting there.
My heart swelled a little as I heard Ashley slap her down, though. Not because the woman deserved it—I didn’t know her well enough one way or another to say if she did—but because Ashley unwaveringly cut the bad family from her life, no matter what they dangled in front of her. It reminded me of myself when I left my uncles behind. They’d tried the same thing, just with different words. What about the pack? What about the life they’d given me? Yeah, well, what about the beatings and the other shit they’d piled on me growing up?
Elizabeth pulled her phone from her purse as soon as Sheriff Peak closed the door, and made a call.
My ears, of course, perked right up.
“Barb? We’re going to have to meet the sheriff later today.”
There was a pause as she walked to the front door and pushed her way out into the entryway.
“Why are you yelling?” she asked, distressed. “I’m still on for the meeting with New York. I know how important it is to you that I’m there.”
Something nagged at the back of my mind. A hunch. Why did she have to tell Barbara to stop yelling? What kind of assistant yelled at her boss’s wife or had the boss’s wife cater to her whims? I stood up and walked over to the door, trying to hear more clearly.
“Look, I know we’re close. If Martin hadn’t taken those files, we’d be fine. But until we get them back into the office, no one is going to believe our version of events.”
I held my breath and focused on her words. Files? This was new.
“No, Barb, the spoiled little bitch wouldn’t switch with me. I know, I know. Okay? But, if you haven’t noticed, your plan is what’s falling apart here. And, no, I didn’t tip him off. Why would I have tipped him off? So I could somehow reunite with him and feel that gross shriveled old shell of his lying next to me one night longer? So I could keep spreading my legs for his money?” She pushed open the glass doors and step outside. “You’re here? Wait, no, calm down, I see you.”
I slipped into the little entryway just as the plate glass door closed shut behind her. I peered out through the plate glass window and watched as one of those big black Suburbans that Eagle Eye Security seemed so damned fond of pulled up in front with one of Simon’s goons behind the wheel.
The rear passenger side door flew open as Elizabeth stepped up to the suburban, nearly smacking the top of her head as she looked down to put her phone away. I held myself back, fighting my urge to white knight everything as she stumbled back.
“Barb!” Elizabeth Maxwell shouted, clearly flustered. “What the–?”
“Shut up, bitch!” Barbara Hacks screamed loud enough that even Ashley might have heard it inside. “We’re late! We’ll have to call on the way!”
Elizabeth climbed into the truck, joining her husband’s assistant. She glanced back at me as I stood there in the entryway, a look on her face like a woman in over her head, or a confused puppy. She let the door hang open for a moment, her foot pausing there, poised to take a step back out of the suburban.
She didn’t want to go, I realized. Something was going on here, and this woman’s part in everything had spiraled out of control. Whatever was happening, though, I had no idea.
“What are you doing?” Barbra spat. As the words were leaving her mouth, she looked past Elizabeth and right at me. “Shut the fucking door, Betty.”
I wanted to go out there, to pull out of the car. But what good would it do? Would she even come with me if I did? Or would I just make things worse?
The younger woman’s hand hung there on the armrest, unsure of whether or not she should pull it closed. Hacks’s eyes were still on mine. “I said shut the fucking door, Betty, or I’ll shut it for you, you stupid bitch.”
Elizabeth and I locked eyes. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.
I shook my head. Don’t do it, Elizabeth. Don’t do it. You don’t have to go.
She wanted to come, I could tell. Instead, she just gave me a little sag of her shoulders before closing the door, hiding both her and Barbara Hacks behind the dark, tinted windows. The Suburban sat there for a moment longer, indistinct yelling that could only have been produced by Barbara coming from the back of the SUV. Even without my shifter hearing, I’d have been able to hear it clear as day from where I stood inside the building.
I grit my teeth. No. This was a damn sight more than I could stand. I put my hand on the door, about to push it open. I stopped short, though, reconsiderin
g my action midstream. Ashley was my responsibility. She was the person I was dedicated to. And, not only was she a client, she was also my mate, whether she knew it or not. This whole money laundering thing swirling around it? Hell no. And certainly not sleuthing for the origin and nature of Elizabeth and Martin Maxwell’s relationship. If Martin wanted me to figure out what his gold digging wife really wanted, he should have hired Frost Security.
But then I heard it. There was no mistaking that loud smack of a hand slapping a cheek.
I growled. That right there? That was sure as hell more than I could handle. I slammed open the front door and launched forward at a run. “Hey!” I shouted as I closed the gap. “Stop!”
The driver glanced back toward me as Barbara screamed at him to drive. As my hand touched the door handle, he took off down the street, tires squealing.
I ran after them, smoke from the burnt tire rubber filling my mouth and nose.
He took the first left and zipped off down to the highway, blowing through the stop sign at Main Street.
I stood there and watched them go, just shaking my head.
Like Elizabeth had said earlier, she had a meeting to make. And, from the sound of it, Barbara Hacks wanted to be on that call right alongside Elizabeth.
How else would she keep pulling her strings?
Chapter Thirty-seven - Ashley
Sheriff Peak and I retreaded the investigation over the next thirty minutes. Clearly, he just wanted his files in order. With all the news making the headlines, the FBI would be swooping in soon to pick up all the broken pieces. “I just wanted to dot some I’s and cross some T’s, is all,” he explained. “And, of course, make sure you were alright after all this. Pretty wild couple days for you, huh?”
I chuckled a little because, what else can you do? “You can say that again.” I stood from my seat. “If you need anything else, let me know.”
“Of course, Ms. Maxwell. Thank you for your cooperation.”
He came around and opened the door for me, and called Frank in from where he was pacing in the middle of the little sitting area. He must not have heard us coming out in the office, because his head shot up at the sound of his own name.
“Frank?” I asked as I approached him. “You okay?”
He started to say something, but shut his mouth as his eyes glanced past me to Sheriff Peak. “Fine,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I know I’d barely known him for more than a day, but something in the set of his chin and the way he held his shoulders screamed at me that he wasn’t telling me everything, but that he needed me to play along. So I did. “No reason.”
“You ready for your interview, Frank?” the sheriff asked from behind me.
“Yes, sir,” my bodyguard barked. With the way his voice changed, I was half-surprised he didn’t snap off a salute. “I’ll tell you what I know.”
Together, they disappeared into the office behind the closed door, leaving me wondering just what had Frank walking the floor like an expectant father.
What had him so spooked? Had he gotten a call from his boss about my case? Had something happened between him and the bimbo? Whatever it was, I knew he’d tell me when he got out. Still, the not knowing worried me.
I took a seat in the little sitting area and crossed my legs, vaguely upset that I still didn’t have my phone. Not that I was going to use it for anything important, or anything, but it’d be nice to at least check my Instagram and see what my friends were doing. Maybe it would take my mind off what Frank hadn’t been able to tell me.
But then, as I sat there worrying about my friends, I realized something. Those people really weren’t my friends. Sure, I might have known them from the different music festivals or from college. But they probably hadn’t even figured out that I’d dropped off the face of the earth and stopped posting to my feed. In fact, the only people checking up on my social media presence right now were most likely reporters who’d caught wind of the investigation into my father and his business.
Jessica Long and Sheila Pearson were more my friends than any of those people. Jessica had at least showed up with these clothes I had on my back. And, sure, they weren’t designer quality like I was used to, but who cared? At least I wasn’t being shot at, and at least she was there for me.
So, instead, I picked up one of the old fishing magazines and found an article about noodling, where they followed around a pretty teenage girl who’d just gotten into the sport. I had no idea people fished that way! Sticking their hands in catfish’s mouths and pulling them out of the water? Not that I really had a lot of experience with fishing to begin with. But good lord!
I picked the magazine up and looked closer at the pictures, trying to imagine myself as the girl holding up that catfish that stretched almost the whole length of her body, from her heels to her head. I could never do that!
But then, as I looked at her more closely, I realized how similar we were, this Candice Shetland and I. She was a small, lithe woman with blonde hair and a pretty smile. I touched the image with the tip of my finger, absently stroking it over her cheekbones and her pert little nose. Even our eyes were the same blue. She didn’t look like any less of a woman than I did, even with the giant whiskered fish she was displaying like a trophy. Why couldn’t I do something like that? Because my friends would laugh at me? Who cared? I was about to be a pariah among them anyways, wasn’t I?
I put the magazine down and leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes. If someone had told me two days ago that I’d both be stalked and shot at, then whizzed around the great Rocky Mountain region by security personnel, I would’ve told them they were full of it. And, on top of that, had they told me I’d survive it and keep everything together, I would have passed them a fire extinguisher for their pants. In my mind, I hung off the edge of that small boat, Frank steering the motor behind me as I dangled my hand over the edge just like the young girl in the article, my fingers grasping and wiggling as I tried to entice a giant catfish to take hold.
So why the hell couldn’t I go noodling sometime? Why couldn’t I do whatever the hell I wanted?
I broke myself from my absurd daydream and turned back to the magazine.
“If y’all need anything else, you just let me or Peter know. We’re happy to oblige.”
Frank and Sheriff Peak stood at the door to Peak’s office, shaking hands. Frank’s giant hand seemed to engulf the sheriff’s normal-sized one, crushing it in its grasp. If the sheriff felt any pain, though, he didn’t show it.
“Of course, Mr. O’Dwyer. We know you’re still in the middle of your assignment, but we sure do appreciate y’all coming down this morning. Like I told Ms. Maxwell, we know you two weren’t at fault in any way, but we need to perform our own investigation and due diligence.”
“I understand, sir. The law’s the law, even if it’s inconvenient.”
Peak gave him a wry grin. “Don’t I know it?”
Frank and I said a few more formalities and niceties to Sheriff Peak, and then we were out the door and headed to his silver Mustang. “No problems?” he asked as he opened the passenger side door for me.
“Not really. You?”
He shook his head before closing the door as I settled into my seat. He came around and got settled behind the wheel.
I turned to him as he started up the car. “Okay. Now what couldn’t you tell me?”
“Right. I think Barbara Hacks and your stepmother are in cahoots.”
“Well, why wouldn’t they be? They’re both trying to save the company, aren’t they?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s something else.” He gave me the rundown of what happened between Barbara and Elizabeth. The slap, everything.
The bimbo and Father met, I’d assumed, at some cocktail party while my mother was in the hospital. But what if they’d actually met under different circumstances? Could Barbara have had a hand in their connection? Their courtship?
I gasped a little as I considered the possibiliti
es. “Do you think this is all some kind of setup, then?” I asked. “With them somehow trying to pin it all on my father?”
“Maybe. Could be, though, they were all in on it together, and your father saw the writing on the bathroom wall. From what we know, your father came west, right? From what they were saying, though, he took some files, some kind of documents. Enough that they think he can pin this all on them. So, he sees it coming, he gets the hell out of Dodge, you know?”
“Or maybe my father discovered what they were doing and decided to leave with the documents so he could prepare a defense. He took enough money to live off of, and his name has enough weight that he could be dealing with his attorneys already and is building a defense.”
Frank shot me a skeptical look.
“Well, whatever he’s doing, the answer’s back at my father’s cabin.”
“That’s a shame, then.”
“Why would that be a shame?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything.
“We’re going back to the cabin, aren’t we? Now that we know what we’re looking for, right?”
He sighed. “Look, Ashley, my job’s to keep you safe and out of harm’s way. Not take you straight into the thick of it. These people are dangerous. They’re killers. I need to take you back to my place and put you back on lockdown till Peter tells me our next move.”
I gritted my teeth and shook my head. This was my father we were talking about. “Fuck you.”
His eyes widened. “Fuck me? What the fuck? I’m trying to keep you alive, Ashley.”
“Take me to my father’s cabin,” I said angrily. “Take me up there. I need to find those papers, and I need to figure out what’s going on.”
“Why? I thought you didn’t want anything to do with your father?”
“That was when I thought he did all this, that it was all his fault. But what if it’s not, Frank? What if what you overheard is true, and he really was manipulated into all this? That he’s on the run, trying to prove his innocence?”
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