Second Nature (Crimson Cove Mysteries Book 2) Page 14

  Mrs. Henning saw us first. Her cheeks flushed, and she adjusted her sweater like she was uncomfortable with being recognized.

  “Hello, ladies.” Lindsey waved and strolled over, acting a bit forward for what these brave women had endured. “We thought we would stop in and see if there was anything you needed.” Lindsey smiled and sat before being invited to.

  I waited. My mom would beat me if she saw that behavior.

  “Hello, girls.” Mrs. Henning gave us her best smile, but the toll of the past few weeks had been paid in youthfulness from her face. She looked exhausted and weak. Her dark hair was frazzled and her skin blotchy. There was something about her that didn’t seem right, like her skin was looser on her face.

  Mrs. Swanson never lifted her face to ours. She didn't acknowledge us at all. She stared out the window at the beautiful fall scenery beyond the gardens and lawns.

  She blinked so lethargically I couldn’t stop myself from watching the slow-motion event occurring.

  “How have you been?” Lindsey asked Mrs. Henning.

  “I think we have both felt better.” She scowled, not rudely at Lindsey but in a pained manner.

  I offered a soft smile, hoping it would show her the depth of my sympathy.

  “We brought you chocolates.” Lindsey offered them to Mrs. Henning but Mrs. Swanson moved quickly, taking the box and tearing the lid off. She started shoving chocolates into her mouth, barely chewing and not really swallowing as the brown spit started to slither down her lips and chin.

  I jumped, gasping.

  Lindsey froze.

  And poor Mrs. Swanson stuffed her cheeks full as Mrs. Henning jumped up and grabbed the box. “Maybe you girls should go.” She put the chocolates on the table and grabbed the garbage bin, holding it up so Rachel’s mom could spit the lump of chocolate mess out. “It’s all right,” she soothed and stroked her head. “It’s okay.”

  Lindsey scanned the room but didn't get up. “This place is pretty nice.”

  I tightened inside as she started to edge her way to the question she wanted to ask. But Mrs. Henning gave her a look. “You really should go, Lindsey. Thank you for stopping by.” She turned back to Rachel’s mom, still trying to lull her.

  I reached forward, grabbing at Lindsey’s arm. “We should go. It was lovely seeing you, Mrs. Henning. Mrs. Swanson.”

  “Thanks, girls. Hopefully, we’ll be in better spirits next time you stop by.”

  The nurses came into the room, giving us curious looks as Lindsey got up. We stood and watched them get Mrs. Swanson up and help her down the hall.

  In that moment I believed Vincent’s mother might have been the killer. If this was how she was when she was here, what better revenge?

  “We need those records,” Lindsey muttered as we walked to the car.

  “Maybe, but we’re never going to get medical records from here. This is a hospital, not our high school where Sierra distracts the teacher so you can sneak into the office.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I bet Vincent’s dad has a record of the stay. I bet he used it so his ex-wife couldn’t have Vincent.”

  “Linds.” My insides tightened again. “Seriously? No. We also can’t just go to his dad’s house and snoop for—”

  “You can stay home if you have to, but I’m going.”

  I leaned against the car and squeezed my eyes shut. “I don't think my dad has a key.”

  “We don't need one. The door to his office is always unlocked and the staff will let me in. He has crazy locks on everything else. He doesn't need them on the office door.” She got in and started the car, looking as if there was more to the plot she was brewing than she’d stated.

  “I think we should ask Lori. I know you don't like her, but I bet she knows.”

  She nodded. “If the safe doesn't open, fine.”

  I watched out the window as she drove up the colorful drive back to the main road. I didn't know how to convince her this was a bad plan, when Vincent’s mom might very well be stalking us.

  My brain whispered things like if Rachel’s parents committed Vincent’s mom, where was his dad in all of this? And that must have made her angry, her friends locking her up and her husband not defending her.

  But Rachel’s parents weren’t the only guilty ones, and they also weren’t the only ones suffering.

  We all were.

  But why?

  Rachel had always wanted Vincent for herself, deep down. Which in Rachel’s weird mind meant she needed to torment him, as if she were flirting. She had been the first target. Could that also be the reason, or was it solely that her mother committed Vincent’s to Silver Hills?

  And then there was Ashton who was the quarterback, the position Vincent had originally tried out for when we were in fourth grade. Plus, he dated Rachel and never stopped her from being such a miserable bitch to everyone. Was that why he got a letter and was framed for blackmailing everyone?

  Sage was the next target, the one threatened in the letter to Ashton. She had dated Vincent but had never loved him, not properly. She’d cheated on him constantly. She was miserable.

  Andrew’s dad must have fit in there somehow, having done something that didn't bode well in Vincent’s mom’s mind.

  I was a target for challenging her and talking back in the chat when she was taunting us with Rachel’s phone. She had scorched REAL SOON on my lawn when I mocked her mistakenly saying ‘real son.’ But maybe there was more. Maybe my parents had done things to her too. I had no way of knowing that. They never spoke of their friendships.

  Lindsey was a possible target because she was Vincent’s girlfriend. Maybe Vincent’s mom didn't agree with the match. Or again, Lindsey’s mom and dad might have done something to Vincent’s.

  One thing I was sure of was our parents had an abundance of skeletons in their closets. We all knew that.

  This could very well be their poor choices coming back to haunt us.

  I daydreamed until we pulled up to Vincent’s house. Shock filled me when he walked out the front door, giving Lindsey a look. She swallowed hard, even through the smile she was faking. “He came home early from school.”

  “Great.” I sighed.

  He walked to her door and opened it for her, almost laughing. “Let me guess, wherever you have been has landed you back at my house?”

  I bit my lip as Lindsey nodded. “We need to see something inside your dad’s vault.”

  “No. I’ve tried. I don't know the code and without it the key is useless.”

  “I need this, Vince. We have a lead. We have to try again.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A lead that led you here?”

  “Just for information. You and your dad are not part of that lead.” Her voice rose a little as she lied.

  He rolled his eyes and gave me a look. “Spill it, Lain.”

  “Your mom.”

  The humor dropped from his face. “What?”

  “Your mom. We just need to check one of the details about a place she stayed for a time. She might have some connections to Rachel’s parents that we hadn’t thought of.” I wasn't lying. It was the truth without telling the truth.

  He paused and thought before nodding. “I’ll see if I can find something in his computer about my mom. But I still can’t get into the vault.”

  “Her medical records if you have them,” I added.

  “Medical records?” He sounded worried.

  “In case she came into contact with someone we are looking into.”

  “Who is it?” He cocked an eyebrow as his jaw set like he was clenching it.

  “A lady who stayed at Silver Hills once.”

  His face lightened again. “Oh, my mom never went there.” He almost smiled, but his lips didn't turn up all the way. They stopped short and he gave Lindsey a look.

  She pulled her door from his hand and shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. I have to drive Lain back to her car. I completely forgot she left it at school. See ya in a bit.” She made a kiss
y face and put the car in reverse, skidding out of his driveway and down the road.

  “You okay?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this to him. I can’t tell him. It’ll break his heart. We have to find another way.” She sped back to school to drop me at my car.

  I sighed, relieved she had come to her senses.

  Or so I’d thought.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Everyone but you

  I carried the tray of food to the end of the west hall, checking to see if anyone was there before I put it down and unlocked the door. I struggled to get it inside, scowling when he didn't help me as I crested the stairs with the tray. Ashton’s eyes didn't even lift from the laptop he was holding and typing on like a madman. I smiled when I saw the dungeon he was in. It was Scholomance, the first one I ever found to be hard.

  “How’s it going?” I laughed as his tank’s health started to drop below fifty percent.

  “Great.” He growled. “But if that priest doesn't up his heals we are all going to die.”

  “Maybe he’s cool with you getting low. Everyone does it differently. I don't like to let my tank get low, but I can burn through the mana if I’m not careful.”

  “His mana is always low.”

  “You can heal yourself.” I rolled my eyes. “He mustn’t have good gear. Did you check everyone before you started the instance?”

  “No?” He furrowed his brow and hazarded a look at me. “You never told me that.”

  “If you inspect them—” I waved a hand as I put down the tray. “I’ll tell you later, finish this. You’re almost done. Be glad this isn’t the vanilla version with the trash mobs.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He grinned, making my heart stop. When it started again it was pounding savagely.

  I flumped onto the air mattress and watched as he played it out from my grandma’s old armchair. I tried lying a couple of different ways, as if to appear cool and calm.

  As it ended everyone chirped the healer, as they always did, and Ashton turned and smiled wide. “How’s it going?” He looked clearer in the eyes and the smile was real. It was nothing like the look in his eyes from before. He was light again.

  “Pretty good.”

  He lifted the sandwich to his lips and took a bite. “I know that expression. What’s going on?”

  “We found out something weird and now we’re stuck on what it all means.”

  “Okay.” He chewed and waited for the rest of the story. Watching him chew was a highlight of mine that I liked to recall. There was a reason I chose sandwiches with thick, chewy bread. The ecstasy of it lasted forever. “What is it?”

  “Rachel’s mom had Vincent’s mom put in Silver Hills. I think it was a long time ago, when we were kids. Before she ran away. Now Mrs. Henning and Rachel’s mom are both there. We went to visit them and Mrs. Swanson’s a mess. She’s a hot mess.”

  His eyes narrowed. “They’ve been through an ordeal, Lain. Going to the hospital isn’t out of the ordinary in a case like this. And Vince’s mom was a hot mess too. She was sick when he was a kid, a lot. His dad covered for her, always saying she was away but sometimes she was home. She was in bed or whatever.” He brushed it off and chewed. “And for the record, going to a mental ward after some piece of shit kills your kid or your husband seems legit.”

  “I’m not judging Rachel’s mom. Or Andrew’s.” I shook my head. “But Vincent doesn't know his mom was there. I saw his face when we brought it up.”

  “No. He might not. He’s never talked about it with me, but I know I heard my mom discussing it with my dad when I was a kid. Me and Vince were like eight. Anyway, my mom had seen Vincent’s mom at the house one day when his dad tried to say she was in Florence. Dad laughed and told her not to worry about it, saying Vincent’s mom was getting chronically sicker. The way he laughed was weird. He made that motion with his hands like she was drinking all the time or something.”

  “Oh God. Poor Vincent.” I winced. “She was an addict?”

  “I think she might have been. The guy she married was at Silver Hills too. He was a doctor. They ran away together.”

  “She left her kid for a guy.” I shook my head. “I can’t imagine a mom leaving their kid for a man.”

  “I think she might have had some mental issues, Lain. Maybe not the worst thing, having her away from Vince.” He took another bite and moaned. “I didn't realize I was so hungry.”

  Watching him eat I didn’t notice I was either. My stomach growled into the airbed.

  “So you think this has something to do with the killer?”

  “Yes.” I hated that I was saying it out loud. “We think it might be Vincent’s mom.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and paused, holding his sandwich and his tongue as he contemplated.

  “We just think maybe she hates Rachel’s mom enough to do this to her. And maybe she has reasons to want the rest of our parents to suffer.”

  “That's crazy, but I can’t say it isn’t possible. I don't know his mom.” He lifted the sweet tea I had brought him and drank, licking his lips. It was hard not to stare. His chiseled jaw clenched when he finished swallowing. “As far as I’m concerned, everyone but you is on the list of possible people.”

  “Why not me?”

  He smiled wide. “There’s no way. Too nice, too innocent, too nerdy. You are not the sort of girl who would hurt anyone. You can’t even put a worm on a hook.” His face lightened again as he laughed. “You remember that time we all went fishing on that stream and you were freeing the worms by dumping them into the water?”

  My shoulders slumped as I covered my face. “I didn't know worms would drown.”

  He laughed, holding his drink as it wobbled and almost spilled. I giggled, even if I was filled with shame for drowning the poor worms. I couldn't stop.

  His chuckle changed to a giggle as he tried to continue speaking but lost the ability to make sound, “And-and—your da—”

  I laughed harder too as his near words made me recall the way my dad had shouted at me while Ashton’s dad laughed.

  Ashton waved his hand and laughed harder as the memory of my father’s disappointed stare killed off my humor.

  He sighed after a moment and nodded. “That was a fun day. I don't think we ever went fishing again.”

  “Not with us. My dad said I wasn't allowed to come.”

  “Yeah, he brought that little Michael kid a few times. But you and Mazy never came again.” He stopped and gave me a look. His dark-blue eyes filled with regret. “I didn't mean—”

  “It’s fine. I know.” I cut him off, standing up from the bed. “I better go.” I turned and hurried to the stairs. “I’ll see you later. Message me on the laptop if you need anything else or have to use the bathroom.”

  “Lain, wait!” he shouted after me, but I closed the door and locked it, leaving him in there.

  My breath shook as my eyes welled with tears. The hurt inside me was more profound than I was giving it credit.

  “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I would never hurt you. Not on purpose.” His voice was muffled by the door. “I’m an idiot. I should have thought.”

  I nodded, but I didn't say anything. What could I say? I leaned against the door and let silent tears wash from my eyes. They were caused by so many more things than they should have been. It took a momentary mental breakdown to realize my plate was full.

  Something had to leave it.

  I got up and walked down the hallway to my room.

  I knew exactly what I could solve and what I couldn't, and I knew who I needed to see to fix at least some of the issues.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pills and potions and test-tube babies, oh my!

  Judith’s house looked the same as before. I hadn’t been here in ages. It was small and not nearly as fancy as ours. She had worked in Crimson Cove since the beginning, a friend of my mother and father’s who my mom thought she could help. I had always seen her
as a bit of a failure. She had stayed single, had a kid alone, and only landed a job because my mom had made my dad give it to her. Her family had even cut her off when she refused to marry the man they had asked her to. So my family sort of adopted her, along with the son she’d had with a man she had never named.

  Now, obviously, things looked a bit different.

  I tapped my finger on the steering wheel and stared at the house from her driveway while I contemplated going in.

  My father’s Porsche was next to her SUV so I knew he was here. He was actually home on a holiday. Something he hadn’t ever done for us.

  Maybe that was because he was always here.

  Hatred and disgust fueled me, but I forced myself from the car and demanded I remain icy cool. I didn't need to attack him the way my mom had. I needed something else from him.

  He opened the front door before I got halfway across the driveway, stepping out of the house instead of inviting me in. He looked different, casual and relaxed. His face looked younger. He was the opposite of Mom. She looked old and tired, worn and bitter.

  He was happy. That much was obvious.

  “Lainey, is everything okay?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  He swallowed hard, stepping forward. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need answers from you, and you will give them to me or I will give an interview to TMZ and the others.”

  “What?” He paled, stepping back as shock set in. “Now, you listen here, young lady—”

  “Yes, it’s true my father keeps keys to all the houses he sells. He has snooped in them after they were sold. I don't know why he does it, but it’s very strange. Yes, he’s been screwing my mom’s best friend at least since I was four. Her son is five years younger than I am, the same age as my little sister, and I know he is my father’s child. He is the only child my father truly loves.”

  “Lainey, you know that's not true.”

  “Things don't have to be true, Dad. They just have to be believed.”

  His face lost all of its color. He didn't turn red or look angry. He looked worried, like he had the night we found Rachel. “What do you want to know?”