Authors: Nancy Bush
Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths, #Crime, #Romance, #General, #Contemporary
“It has its challenges,” September said to Verna tensely. She didn’t know why it bothered her that Verna called her Nine when she wasn’t bothered by anyone else doing it.
Dash came sauntering over and said genially, “Good to see you again.”
September felt a clock ticking in her head, counting down to a bomb. She wanted to blast Verna and creepy Stefan, too, though all he did was stand by quietly and observe. She didn’t want to talk to them. She didn’t want to ever see them again, but she was saved from answering by July dragging her away from the dining room and into the virulent lime green kitchen where they could be alone.
“What the hell are you doing?” September asked her sister when they were out of earshot.
“You’re not the only one pissed at Dad, y’know,” she said, dropping her smiling hostess act and regarding September with barely leashed anger.
“Are you mad at me?” September asked.
“I’m mad at Dad and Verna and Rosamund, too, just because she’s such a bitch. I’m not thrilled with March, either. You and Auggie are the only ones I even like in my family.”
“Well, it’s mutual. What about Auggie? I thought you said—”
“He’ll be here,” she said. “How much do you know about Dad and all his women?”
“All his women? I . . . not much. I know about Verna, obviously, but that’s it. I’m sure there were others,” she said, releasing a deep sigh.
“There were others,” July confirmed. “I kinda want to get into that tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because he deserves it. And there’s Rosamund parading around like she’s the fairest in the land, and the only thing good about that is it infuriates Verna and she looks like she’s been sucking on a pickle all night, her lips are so pursed with anger.”
“Yeah, but . . . what’s changed? Is this because I found the note?”
“It was nice to know you finally knew what I’ve known for years. Maybe not about Mom finding the note, but about Dad’s lifestyle.” She grimaced. “All I would like is a baby, and maybe a husband, too, sure, but nothing seems to be working, whereas Dad just threw it away and then he gets Rosamund pregnant!”
“What about Dash?” July dug her fingers into September’s arm and September said, “Ow,” and yanked it away.
“When Auggie gets here, we’ll deal with everything. I’m sorry that Evie’s here. I didn’t count on March bringing her, but hell, she’s in this family, she might as well know.”
“Auggie?”
“I told you he’s coming. He’s just late. I told him he could bring his girlfriend. I mean, what the hell, why not? But he’s coming alone.”
“But he is coming.”
“Yes,” she said as if she were tired of telling her the same thing. “Yes. Yes, he is.”
“What’s going on?”
“July?” Rosamund’s voice preceded her into the kitchen as she appeared from inside the house. Twin spots of color suffused her cheeks. “Okay, I’m just going to say it. I don’t appreciate the way you took over and made these plans like . . . well, like you own the place. You’re staying here for God knows how long, but it wasn’t by my choice.”
September slid a glance at July to see how she was taking being berated, but her sister’s face was shuttered as she answered, “Duly noted.”
Which only pissed off Rosamund further. “This isn’t your house!” she declared. “What part of that don’t you get?”
“I’ve made plans to move out. Don’t you worry. I’ll be gone long before January arrives.”
“Gilda,” Rosamund grated.
Through the window September saw Auggie’s Jeep wheel into the lot and park next to her Pilot. “You did it,” she said in amazement and admiration to July, sliding past Rosamund, yanking open the front door and meeting her twin as he climbed from his car. “July said you would come. I didn’t believe her. What the hell’s going on?”
Auggie’s gaze slid past her to the open doorway where July now stood. “I guess she didn’t give you the preview,” he said.
“What preview? There was no preview.”
“I hear you got pulled off the case,” he said, looking down at her.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you’re doing a happy dance.”
“I think it was the right move,” he agreed. “D’Annibal told me about the newest message. Jesus, Nine. You know you shouldn’t be on the case.”
“Who better?” she challenged him, closing her ears to his concern.
“I wish I wasn’t so entrenched in this other case, but I can’t back out now.”
“I’m not one of your damsels in distress,” she gritted. “Now, what the hell are you doing here really? Tell me. Or, I’m going to think you’re a pod person, or something.”
“I’m not staying long,” he told her as he moved to meet July. He gave his older sister a hug as he entered the house, and July looked past him to wave her hand for September to hurry up and join them. As September moved toward the house, she pulled her cell phone from a pocket and checked the time. Seven fifteen. Though she was curious to know what was going on, she wondered how long she’d really have to stay.
It took another twenty minutes before Suma brought the final dishes to the table, serving plates brimming with salads and vegetable dishes, all with an Asian flair. March had finished the barbequed, five-spice chicken and sat it in the center. The family was seated by then, with Braden at one end and Rosamund, her lips in a hard line, on the other. July sat across from September and nearer to Rosamund than Braden with Dashiell on her right and Verna and Stefan beside him. Auggie sat next to September, across from Dash, and with Evie beside him and March at the end near Braden, literally her father’s right-hand man.
Braden’s gaze was all over Auggie, but he was giving their father his profile. When Braden said, “It’s good to see you, August,” he managed a curt nod, but, whatever had gotten him to come to the house was clearly not meant for Braden to think it might be something more.
March began passing the plates around, helping his daughter with the heavier ones, and everyone began serving up except Rosamund, who was holding her glass of lemonade to one side, as she surveyed the group. “Okay, July,” she said in a tsk-tsk tone. “Let’s get on with it.”
Braden scowled at his new wife, but managed to keep from saying anything. Verna, seeing the interplay, said, “What an interesting kitchen color choice, Rosamund? I don’t think I would have thought of it.”
July said loudly, “This is a momentous day. We’re not a big, happy family. We never have been, and come to that, we’re not even really a family. There have been a lot of tragedies, too.” Her gaze swept from Braden to Verna, and September held her breath. Just where was this going? “I moved back to the house this summer because I was thinking of changing my life.” She slid a half-glance to Dash, who was sitting quietly with a faint smile on his face, listening. For a moment September thought July had lied to her and she and Dash had decided to get pregnant together after all, but then she said, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. You’ve all met Dash before, Dashiell Vogt. He came to The Willows a few months back and introduced himself and we struck up a friendship.”
“Oh, you’re getting married,” Verna said with a conspiratorial smile. “Good for you.”
Auggie drawled, “I wouldn’t have shown up tonight if that’s all it was.”
“What is it?” Evie asked innocently. Her gaze turned to Dash, who gazed right back at her, and in that moment September saw the Rafferty blue eyes on his handsome face.
“Oh . . .” September said, setting down her fork.
July smiled at her and then at the table at large. “You’ve met Dashiell, but you haven’t really met him. Not even you, Dad. But it’s time you did.” She turned to Dash and lifted a hand.
He took the cue, slowly rising from the table, lifting a glass. “Hello, Father,” he said in a wry tone. “Glad to finally meet you.”
Chapter 18
September glanced from Dashiell to her father, to Auggie, and back to July. Surprisingly, the first thing she thought was,
I don’t have time for this
. Her anger at her father and Verna was still a bright ember, but the realization that she had some unrecognized sibling from a different liaison—given Dash’s age he was before Verna’s time and Verna was the type to flaunt her children, not bury their existence—was a complication that September wanted to deal with at some future date.
“You remember Dash’s mom,” July was saying to Braden when he stared at Dash silently for so long that it became uncomfortable. “She worked for you and Mom when March and I were just babies. Dash decided to meet me first, but he didn’t tell me the whole story until just recently. I thought I should share.”
Silence followed. Verna blinked rapidly, as if the act of moving her eyelids could get her brain processing faster, and Stefan sort of shrank away from Dash as if he might have cooties.
Auggie reached across the table, holding out his hand. “July already told me, obviously. Welcome to the family, brother,” he said ironically.
“Dash is your brother?” Evie asked, lost. “How come no one told me?”
“It’s kind of been news to all of us,” July said, looking at Braden, whose face had suffused with color, only to have it drain away again.
Rosamund stated flatly, “I don’t believe it.”
“I don’t either,” Verna said, flustered.
“You think you’re the only one who had an affair with Dad? Stand in line,” July shot back.
September choked out a laugh. She’d never been that close to her older sister, and she was beginning to think she’d really missed out.
“Dash is Dad’s son,” July said. “I even did a little thing called DNA testing, and guess what it proved.”
“You can even see it,” September observed.
Everyone took a hard look at Dash, who lifted up his palms as if to say, “Have at it.”
“I think I’ll get an independent test, just the same,” Rosamund declared.
September knew she was just worried that there was now another person in line for the Rafferty inheritance.
“You’ll waste your money,” Auggie said.
“It’s mine to waste!” Rosamund glared fire at all the Raffertys.
March seemed to stir himself, but he remained silent, waiting for Braden to speak. Braden took his time, and when he did, he warned July. “You shouldn’t have done this.”
“You mean because it’s self-destructive? Because you’ll take my job away from me? You blew that when you and Verna took my mother away from me. That’s all on you!” Her voice cracked as she gazed from Braden, to Verna, and back again. Though she’d barely eaten a bite, she then dropped her napkin on the table, scooted back her chair, and stalked away from the table to the kitchen.
Dash didn’t follow her. He’d clearly been given a script ahead of time and merely regarded his father coolly.
“You’re not my son,” Braden said coldly.
“I don’t really like the idea, either, but DNA says differently. You know my mother, Anna Marie.”
“Anna Marie worked for Kathryn, not me, and she was only here a short time,” Braden stated flatly.
“Because she was pregnant with me. I know.” Dash picked up his lemonade and drank a huge swallow. His fingers trembled slightly, the only giveaway to his emotions.
September was starting to wish she’d taken her father up on that drink. Everyone was looking at Braden, who was staring down at his plate. She wondered, idly, if he would try to deny the charge, but it was pretty clear July had already done her homework and facts were facts.
Auggie clapped his hands together and said, “Okay. If that’s it, I gotta get going. I think I’m over my quota of Rafferty drama.” He scraped back his chair.
“August, I want to talk to you,” Braden said quickly.
“Seriously? You think this is the time?” Auggie asked.
“It’s all the time you’re giving me!” he growled.
“You want to talk about something? Something other than meeting your long lost son, that is?” Auggie swept an arm toward Dash. “Why don’t you worry about Nine and the fact that she’s in the killer’s sights—”
“Auggie,” September warned.
“—and that he’s sent her her own grade school artwork with a message: ‘Do Unto Others.’ And a second piece, with the Roman numeral IX on the back. He put that there. She didn’t. So, where the hell’s her old schoolwork? It’s not here. She’s looked. Help her find it, before speculation that the doer’s one of us becomes certainty in the minds of the authorities.”
Braden had jumped to his feet in fury. “In
your
mind,
son?
”
“Wait . . . wait . . .” September moved closer to Auggie, hoping to defuse a situation that was rapidly getting out of hand.
“The FBI’s on this one,
Dad
. Nine’s been taken off the case because she’s a target.”
“Is this true?” Braden bellowed at September.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“You should have said something when you came here!” He glared at her.
“I should’ve,” she agreed. She just hadn’t wanted all the drama, but she’d gotten it anyway.
“So, where is it?” Auggie asked. “All of our stuff is missing.” He glanced around to March and July, who had returned to the table, and his hard gaze fell on Verna. “I would say someone destroyed it, but since some of Nine’s schoolwork’s been sent to her, I’m betting it’s still around.”
Unless the killer’s had it all along.
September didn’t voice her thought, however.
Verna said, “You can’t think I’m responsible,” as she also got to her feet.
“Mom died and you moved in,” July stated in a cold voice.
“Stop this nonsense!” Braden roared. He pointed a finger at Auggie. “I should have known the only reason you came here was to start a fight.” He flashed a look at Nine. “I told you not to go into police work. This is exactly why. You mix with the likes of scum and you pay a terrible price.”
“I didn’t touch any of your things,” Verna came back hotly to September, ignoring Braden entirely. “Some of Kathryn’s were put in the attic. I thought that was where the rest of your childhood memories were.”
“We found my mother’s,” September said woodenly.
“You should have found the rest. It was there!” Verna declared.
Stefan slid from his chair and moved behind his mother and out of the room. September’s gaze flicked to him as he sneaked away. Evie looked about ready to cry and March put a hand on her shoulder, glaring furiously at Auggie.