Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls) (13 page)

“Do you really think this is a police matter?” Grant almost kicked himself for asking when Ellie turned angry-mother eyes on him. Why was he getting involved? Because the kid was terrified and really, what had he done? If a pretty young girl agrees to sneak out, the average teenage boy isn’t going to put much thought into his actions.

With one hand on the small of her back, Ellie exhaled with force and rubbed an eyebrow. “No. Not really.”

Grant handed the identification back to the boy. He glanced at Julia, who retreated into the far corner of the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the floor. Pissy teenage attitude mixed with I-am-in-big-trouble on her face.

Grant escorted Taylor to the door before Ellie changed her mind. “Here’s a piece of advice. Don’t do this again. It’s stupid.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t make me regret this.” Grant set him free.

“No, sir.” The kid bolted through the opening, half running toward a car parked a few houses up the street. Grant went back into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you were sneaking out.” Astonishment filled Ellie’s tone.

“You never let me do anything.” Julia’s response exploded with long-built resentment. “None of my friends take the bus. They all get rides. I’m the only sophomore not allowed to date.”

“You can date boys your own age. Taylor is too old for you. Do you know how dangerous it is to go out in the middle of the night without anyone knowing where you’ll be or what time you’ll be home?” Ellie’s voice cracked. “If something happened to you, I wouldn’t even know where to look.”

“Taylor is the only boy I like. If you just took the time to get to know him, I wouldn’t have to sneak out at night,” Julia retorted.

Sensing the conversation was just getting started, Grant cleared his throat. “I’m going to leave.”

“Thank you, Grant,” Ellie said.

“You’re welcome. I’ll let myself out.” Grant left the house, feeling old and crappy. He remembered what it was like to get into trouble, though he hadn’t experienced much teenage wildness, not with his father disabled. But this wasn’t Grant’s first disciplinary action. As an officer, he had plenty of young recruits who couldn’t resist the occasional lure of stupidity. But none of them were a fifteen-year-old girl making a sad, you-ruined-my-whole-life face at him.

But Ellie was exactly right. Julia had to understand the risk she was going to take that night. The thought of her out there, alone, with a boy Ellie didn’t know, going who knew where, gave Grant a cramp in the center of his gut. Considering everything that was going on in the neighborhood, he didn’t blame Ellie for keeping her daughter close. And, after spending these past few days with full-time care of Carson and Faith, Grant could imagine far too clearly the soul-clenching terror a parent felt when a child went missing—and the despair when she didn’t come home.

As he crossed the lawn, snowflakes drifted from the clouded sky. Heat enveloped him as he went into the house. Carson’s and Hannah’s voices, along with Faith’s cries, poured down the hall. Everyone was up. Again. Grant shook his head. These kids never slept. A few white flakes fell from his hair onto the doormat. He toed off his wet shoes.

Chaos. Total chaos. Life in Afghanistan was less insane.

He trudged toward the kitchen. It was going to be a long night.

Family responsibilities and Julia’s behavior brought his return to the military to mind. How was he going to make sure the kids were all right when he returned to Afghanistan?

Chapter Fourteen

Lindsay

December

I push the brown bag with my lunch in it away. I’m not hungry. Fear is a great appetite suppressant. I’m tired of this.

I stare down at my open notebook, but I’m only pretending to work on my calc problems. I used to love school. In California, I got straight
A
s. Now I can barely think.

Maybe they’re right. I am ugly. I am not worth the air I breathe. They say so every day, enough that I think it must be true.

I have no one to talk to. I’ve made zero friends since we moved here. Everyone is afraid of becoming the next target. I don’t blame them. I’m not worth it.

My phone buzzes. I don’t want to look at it. Technically, I’m not supposed to use my phone at school, but what can they do to me? Expel me, please. A phone number comes up on the display. I don’t recognize it. I shouldn’t open it. I know it’s from
them
. But I can’t help myself. It’s almost like I want the punishment.

I look down at the screen:
You should die.

My eyes fill. A tear slides down my cheek. I wipe it away with the back of my hand. I shouldn’t cry in front of them. They get off on it. But I really don’t care anymore.

I don’t care about anything.

They aren’t even in this lunch period, but they have minions that follow their orders. At this very minute, someone is probably taking a video of me crying.

My phone vibrates again. This time it says
Drinking bleach should do it.

I power the phone down. I’ll check for any messages from Jose later. I can’t handle any more right now.

I just want to crawl in a hole and die. It would be a lot easier to do what they want. I can’t win. I can’t go on like this. I don’t
want
to go on like this.

The bell rings. I pack up my stuff and join the flow of bodies toward the exit. Near the door, I toss my lunch in the garbage. A hand shoves me in the middle of my back, and I fall forward toward the trash can. I catch my balance at the last second, but my books flop into the can. Half-chewed fries and ketchup splatter over everything.

I reach down to pull my books out of the mess. Tears pour freely down my cheeks now. I don’t even bother to wipe them away. My stomach flip-flops as I shake a glob of macaroni and cheese off my notebook. A second later, a teacher is beside me, helping. But she is too late—as always.

I am tempted to leave. My house is only a mile away if I cut through the woods. My parents don’t think it’s safe for a young girl to walk alone, as if I’m safe anywhere.

The rest of the day is quiet, though I can’t focus on my classes. I keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next strike. By the time I get home, I’m a mess. Forget homework. Needing a mindless distraction, I opt for TV. I settle on the couch and slip a disc of CSI into the DVD player.

Later that night, my mom asks, “Why are you so quiet lately?”

So I finally tell her about Regan and Autumn.

“Stand up to them,” she says.

I don’t think she gets it. I just shake my head. Words will not form. My throat feels like it’s packed with cotton balls.

“I’ll call the school,” she says.

“No,” I say. “That’ll just make it worse.”

I know without a single doubt that getting Regan and Autumn in trouble is a very bad idea. They are hostile now, when their only motivation for tormenting me is amusement. I can’t imagine being the subject of their revenge.

Chapter Fifteen

“I can’t believe it.” In the crowded home office, Grant bumped elbows with Mac, sitting on an ottoman they’d dragged in from the living room. Grant had the schoolhouse chair, and Hannah sat at the desk. In front of her, Lee and Kate’s records were organized into neat piles on the blotter. Hannah twisted sideways to face her brothers.

On the corner of the desk was the box of legal files Grant had brought in from the car. Lee had handled a variety of cases. The files that had been in Lee’s office were boring, mundane legal issues: he was representing a local businessman in a DWI, drafting wills for a married couple, and drawing up a partnership agreement for a trio of doctors. Grant had scanned every page. There wasn’t even a hint of controversy.

“Lee was broke,” Hannah said.

“Are you sure?” Grant leaned toward the office door, left open a few inches so he could hear the kids, who were taking a miraculous and simultaneous morning nap. No one had slept much last night. “That doesn’t sound possible.”

Hannah skimmed through a pile of papers. “I’ve double-checked all their financial records. Lee and Kate were beyond broke. Their debt was crushing them.”

“How can that happen?” Mac shook his shaggy hair out of his face. “I know Kate didn’t make much money, but Lee was an attorney.”

“Lee was a good lawyer, but he made terrible financial decisions.” Hannah lifted a bank statement. “Lee’s law school debt totaled six figures. He deferred payments for years, and he hasn’t paid much of the principal off. I know law practices have been hit hard by the economy, but his salary was a lot lower than I expected. He wasn’t willing to move to chase a higher-paying job.” She thumbed to another page. “They couldn’t afford this house or the BMW.”

“Why do you make so much money?” Mac asked Hannah.

“I speak three languages. I work eighty-hour weeks for a large private firm, and I’m willing to live in hotels. Small-town firms can’t pay hefty salaries.” Hannah dropped the paper on the blotter. “I didn’t borrow as much money as Lee either. I had scholarships and a work-study program. Basically, I’ve had no personal life for the last ten years.”

Grant knew all about having no life outside of work. “Why would he keep borrowing if he was already underwater?”

“You know Lee, the perennial optimist.” Hannah rubbed her neck. “Remember when we were kids. Lee was always the one to say things would work out.”

“So what will happen to the house now?” Grant asked. “I’d hate for the kids to be forced from their familiar surroundings.”

“Lee’s student loans go away with a death certificate. We’re lucky there. They don’t always. Actually, both Lee and Kate had decent life insurance. It should be enough to bring everything current, with a bit left over. If they hadn’t died, they would have lost the house in six months.” Hannah set the paper down.

“Did they have any money in the bank?” Grant couldn’t believe Lee was broke. What the hell was going on with his brother?

“No.” Hannah shook her head. Her short, straight hair fell back into its precise cut. “Their savings ran dry months ago. They used every dime for the down payment on this house.” She paused, sucking a deep breath in through her nose.

“What is it?” Grant asked.

“I don’t know how to say this. I feel guilty for even thinking it.” Hannah stared at the desktop. “In the last few weeks, Lee’s account shows two inexplicable cash deposits of nine thousand, five hundred dollars each, just small enough to avoid federal reporting requirements.”

Shock silenced them.

“There has to be an explanation.” Grant’s mind scrambled. “Could he have closed an account somewhere?”

“I’m still looking.” Hannah’s eyes reflected Grant’s disbelief. “But so far, the money seems to come from nowhere.”

“Where could Lee have gotten almost twenty grand?” Mac asked.

They stared at each other for a minute.

“Keep digging. There must be some logical explanation.” Rejecting the possibility that Lee could have done anything amiss, Grant rubbed his forehead. “But if their life insurance should cover their outstanding debts, then whoever takes the kids can stay in the house.”

“I think so. Unless more liabilities turn up, or we find their will and it makes other provisions.” Hannah gathered the papers on the desk. “But if it comes down to it, I have some cash put aside. They won’t have to leave this house if we decide they should stay.”

“Same here.” Except for the money he sent to the nursing home, most of Grant’s pay went into the bank. He didn’t have a family to support and had few housing expenses. His savings account was healthy. If Lee had told him he was so broke, Grant would have helped out.

Maybe if Grant had called more, he’d have known his brother was in financial trouble.

“Where could they have stored their legal documents?” Grant scanned the room. Its small size limited possible locations, but the rest of the house . . .

She shook her head. “I’ve been through his entire desk and computer files. If they had a will, it’s not here.”

“Maybe they didn’t have a will.” Mac rubbed an ink mark on the tan leather ottoman next to his thigh. “They didn’t count on dying this young.”

“True, but Lee was a planner.” Hannah slid the papers into a folder. “Even in debt, he provided life insurance for his family. The will must be here somewhere.” She opened a second file, and they all drew a collective, silent breath. “Now we need to talk about funeral arrangements. I thought we’d use Stokes Funeral Home on First Street. It’s the one we used for Mom.” Her voice cracked. She paused to press her knuckles against her mouth.

Grief filled Grant’s chest like concrete.

Mac slid the ottoman forward and pulled her into a hug. “Why don’t you let me take care of the funeral arrangements? I’ll go down there today, talk to the director, and we can reconvene here tonight. That way, when . . .” Mac paused as if he couldn’t get the words out. “When the medical examiner releases the bodies, we’ll be ready.”

“Are you sure?” Grant was used to handling the tough decisions. Of course, he was also accustomed to his orders being followed, and that only applied in the military. His family did not recognize him as a superior officer. The only one who listened to him was Carson. Faith screamed in his face for eight hours a night. Mac’s lifelong modus operandi
was to agree, then do whatever he wanted. Hannah would argue until the season changed. And he didn’t even want to think about his discussion with Ellie next door.
She
clearly wasn’t following any orders.

“Yeah.” Mac exhaled hard, then nodded. “Hannah has the legal and financial stuff under control. You’ve got the kids handled. Let me contribute something.”

“It’s all right with me,” Grant agreed. “Hannah?”

She nodded. “Thanks, Mac.”

“We need to coordinate errands so one of us is here with the kids. I asked Julia from next door to babysit for a couple of hours this afternoon to help out. But considering everything that’s happened, I’d still feel more comfortable if one of us is in the house.”

“Agreed.” Hannah frowned. “What about Dad?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t remember me when I visited him,” Grant said. “I didn’t see any point in telling him about Lee and Kate.”

“How do you think he’d feel if he misses the funeral?” Hannah’s voice caught.

Was their father’s illness one of the reasons she stayed away from Scarlet Falls? She’d been chasing his attention all her life. As a teen, Hannah was the best marksman of the four of them. But the Colonel had still been focused on his boys. His slight hadn’t been intentional. He didn’t know what to do with a girl. Intentional or not, Hannah had felt his disinterest. She probably would have gone into the service after college if their father hadn’t been so outspoken in his disapproval of women in the military.

“If he doesn’t remember Grant, he won’t remember the rest of us,” Mac said.

Grant turned. “Why do you say that?”

Mac lifted a palm. “You were always his favorite. For the last few years before the dementia took over, all he ever talked about was you becoming a general. Lee was never aggressive enough for the Colonel. Hannah was, but the old man didn’t see it.” Mac rubbed his sister’s shoulder. “Sorry, Sis. He totally missed the boat on that one. You’re the toughest of all of us.”

Hannah’s lip twisted into a weak smile. Grant knew that, on the outside, Hannah was tough as nails, but inside? Not so much.

“What about you?” Grant asked. “Mr. Outdoorsman.”

“Nah.” Mac waved a hand. “By the time I was old enough for him to take any interest in me, he already had you in the military academy. I skated under the radar. Could you imagine if he knew I spent my time living in a tent, studying families of otters? At least Lee and Hannah are lawyers. I’m a biologist who can’t keep his own fish alive.”

“That is pretty sad.” Grant laughed, then sobered.

“There’s an option for Carson, though,” Mac said. “Boarding school—”

“No.” Grant interrupted him. “I hated that place.”

“Really?” Hannah lifted her head. “I was so jealous I couldn’t go.”

“Yes,” Grant admitted. “Well, maybe I didn’t hate the place as much as being away from all of you. I was only twelve. And there were no girls.”

“You never said anything.” Hannah straightened the already perfect piles of papers on the desk.

“How could I?” Grant sighed. “Dad was so proud. I would have broken his heart. But that brings me to my next item for discussion.” Grant paused and listened at the door for a second. No sounds from upstairs. He lowered his voice. “What are we going to do about the kids?”

“Is it really just the three of us?” Mac asked. “Doesn’t Kate have any family?”

“Not that I know of—”

“She does.” Hannah reached for the bottom desk drawer. “I found an old address book with Kate’s handwriting.” She lifted out a small black book and opened it. “
Mom
is penciled under M. There’s a phone number.”

Mac leaned forward. “That’s a Boston exchange. That book looks old.”

“Probably is.” Hannah flipped through pages. “I found it stuck behind the drawer. Shall I call the number?”

The baby’s cries echoed in the hallway.

“The master calls.” Grant stood up. “I vote yes. The number might not even work, but I think Kate’s parents have a right to know about her death.”

Faith cried louder. Grant turned and hurried to the kitchen. The TV was on in the adjoining family room. Before Hannah had summoned him to the office, he’d been watching the news. As he prepared the formula, he read the weather report scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Shaking the bottle, he turned to leave the kitchen.

“Stay tuned for the noon report as the parents of Lindsay Hamilton speak out on the murder of their attorney, Lee Barrett.”

“Oh my God.” Mac’s voice came from behind Grant.

He turned. In the doorway, Mac stared at the screen. Upstairs Faith jacked up the volume. The girl had lungs.

“Can you record that?” Grant pointed to the TV. “And then turn it off. I don’t want Carson to hear it if he comes downstairs.”

“I’m on it.” Mac moved toward the digital cable box.

Grant grabbed the bottle he’d already prepared and climbed the steps to the nursery. Could the Hamilton case file be the one Lee’s boss was seeking? He’d have to find out later. If the report made the noon news, it would be on the Internet somewhere. He’d either watch the recording when Carson was asleep or he’d web surf until he found it. The news network would probably have the clip on their website feed.

Faith was on her belly holding her head and chest off the crib mattress.

“I guess you know how to roll over.” Grant picked her up and settled in the rocking chair to feed her. He grabbed the book he’d found on Kate’s nightstand,
What to Expect in the First Year
, and looked for the page where he’d stopped reading earlier. “OK, Faith, where were we?
By your baby’s fourth month, you both should be enjoying a full night’s sleep.
Faith, have you read any of this book?”

Footsteps at the doorway interrupted him. Hannah walked into the nursery.

“Do you want to feed her?” Grant asked.

“She looks comfortable with you.” Hannah perched on the edge of the toy box. “So I called that number. Kate’s mother answered. She and Kate’s father live outside of Boston. She said they haven’t spoken to Kate in almost ten years. She didn’t say why. They’re driving down.”

“Get any vibes from the call?”

“Icy ones.”

Coming from Hannah the corporate attorney, who could negotiate billion-dollar contracts in three languages without breaking a sweat, that said a lot.

“So if she hasn’t seen Kate in a decade, she doesn’t know the kids.” Second thoughts weighed on Grant. “I hope we haven’t let a panther out of the bag.”

“Me too,” Hannah said. “Mac left for the funeral home. That’s all right with you?”

“Definitely. I have enough on my plate. I have to run to the ice rink where Kate worked. I won’t be long. You’re on kid duty.”

Staring at the baby, Hannah took a deep breath. “I hope I can do this half as well as you.”

Grant traded places with Hannah. “Sit.” He handed the baby to his sister. “Burp her halfway through.”

“But—”

“You’ll be fine. In the daytime, she’s a happy baby.” He ducked out to check the room across the hall. Carson had flung off the covers and sprawled sideways across his twin mattress. Grant pulled the door closed and went back to the nursery. “Carson’s still asleep. Keep an ear out for him. He’ll want a snack when he wakes up.”

Downstairs, Grant donned a coat and boots. AnnaBelle whined at the back door. “All right, you can come outside with me.” AnnaBelle bounded out into the snow. Grant found a shovel in the garage. He cleared a path from the garage to the back door. Shovel in hand, he headed for the front of the house. Barking drew his attention to Ellie’s house.

“Good dog.” A small figure huddled on the front steps leading to the porch. AnnaBelle crowded close.

Grant crossed the lawn. “Nan?”

“Grant.” Nan exhaled in relief. Dressed in jeans, a sweater, and sheepskin boots, Ellie’s grandmother shivered on a patch of ice. She clutched one arm to her chest. Her teeth chattered. “I’m so glad to see you.”