Leslie gave him a wide-mouthed no you did not tell me that look.
“So, what happened?” More than a little intrigued, Leslie moved into the kitchen. “Why aren’t you the one living in their big plantation house outside of town?”
Carol tossed her head. “There isn’t much to tell. Gage and I dated for a couple of years, and then we went off to separate colleges.”
“That’s when she met my dad.” Derek put the eggs in the fridge. “After she quit college.”
“Don’t remind me.” Carol sucked in a ragged breath. “We weren’t even married two years when your father took off for California.”
Derek shook his head and headed back to the counter to finish unpacking the grocery bags.
Leslie observed the interaction between mother and son. She knew Derek’s father skipping town was a sore spot. He never talked about him. Her curiosity about Carol’s past with the Devereaux family got the better of her.
“Is Beau like his father?”
A slight smile added a touch of warmth to Carol’s sad eyes. “I don’t know Beau, but Gage was very kind and considerate of other people. Even though he was the richest boy in town, he never acted like he was above anyone else.” Her smile vanished. “I’m going to take a shower.” Carol nodded to Leslie. “Good seeing you, sweetheart.”
Derek waited until his mother disappeared down the narrow hall to her bedroom before he approached Leslie.
“Did she seem upset to you?” Leslie hooked her pinkie around his. “When I asked about Mr. Devereaux, she changed.”
“Nah. She’s upset about me getting hit. I’ll get an earful after you’re gone.”
She rested her head against his chest, wishing she could stay, but she could hear her mother’s voice in her head. “I should go. My mother wants me home for dinner.”
Easing away from him, Leslie went to the freezer and found a pack of frozen peas. She returned to his side and gently pressed the bag against his bruised cheek.
“Keep this on for a few hours. I can’t have my boyfriend walking around school and looking like the other guy won.”
Leslie kissed his good cheek and scurried to the door. It took a stiff yank to open.
She strolled down the driveway, rehashing what she’d learned about Carol’s connection to Beau’s father. She knew there were secrets buried in their small town, especially about the Devereaux family. Hints about their nefarious past had circulated among the residents of St. Benedict as long as she could remember. But Carol’s disclosure about her history with Gage Devereaux had not been one of those tales.
Images of Beau’s father and Carol filled Leslie with a strange sense of foreboding. If Dawn continued dating Beau, would she end up like Derek’s mother? A broken woman, struggling to survive.
The chill she’d experienced on the road to The Abbey resurfaced. She didn’t know why, but the daunting thoughts about her sister’s future made her think of the sinister spires of the abandoned abbey. Unnerved by the sensation, Leslie made a beeline to her car.
She backed out of the Fosters’ driveway and decided to take the long way home, avoiding The Abbey altogether.
Chapter Four
The beauty of the sunlight filtering through the oaks lining Leslie’s street offered a moment of distraction as she drove through her upper-middle-class neighborhood. Nestled in a quiet part of St. Benedict known as The Elms, her house wasn’t far from the entrance to the lands owned by the Devereaux Estate.
Leslie pulled up to the three-car garage. She cringed when she looked at the clock on the dash.
Late again.
She grabbed her book bag and headed toward the back door, hoping her mom wouldn’t be downstairs.
“You were supposed to be home ten minutes ago, Leslie Elise,” Shelley shouted from the kitchen.
Leslie sighed and shut the garage door. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Her mom rounded the corner, her honey-blonde hair back in a clasp.
No doubt about it. Shelley Moore could intimidate Satan himself if she wanted to.
Her mother’s blue eyes sparkled with irritation. “You were at that boy’s again, weren’t you?”
Leslie scowled. “His name is Derek, Mom. Not that boy. I hate when you call him that.”
“And I hate when he makes you late for dinner.” Shelley pointed a spatula at her daughter, her lips nothing but a thin, angry line.
Leslie followed her mother into the kitchen. She crossed the threshold, her tennis shoes squeaking on the brick floor. She hiked her bag onto the counter with a heavy thump.
“I was only ten minutes late. It’s not a big deal.”
“We have rules for a reason.” Her mother wielded the spatula again, pointing it at Leslie like a sword. “And you know better. Books on the floor, not the counter.”
Leslie deposited her bag next to the breakfast bar. “Where’s Dawn?”
“Not home from cheerleading practice yet.” Shelley carried a bowl of vegetables to the table in the open dining room.
Leslie gritted her teeth. “Is Beau bringing her home?”
“Of course. You know he always brings her home after practice.”
Great. The princess gets to be driven home by her asshole boyfriend and I get crap for spending ten extra minutes with mine.
A few choice curse words slipped from Leslie’s lips.
“What was that, young lady?”
“Nothing. Dad home yet?”
Shelley pointed her spatula to the family room next to the kitchen. “In his office. Go tell him it’s time for dinner.”
Leslie hurried through the family room toward her father’s office. She knocked and gingerly pushed the door open.
Soft overhead lights stretched across a paper-strewn desk. His head bowed in concentration, John Moore’s slight frown told her he wasn’t happy with what he read. A stack of manila folders lay neatly on the corner of his mahogany desk, each representing a case.
Leslie leaned against the doorframe and smiled. The only attorney in St. Benedict, she couldn’t remember a time when he had not been working on a case.
“Hey, Dad.”
John glanced up from the file, his glasses slightly askew.
“What are you working on?”
He ran his hand through his thinning hair and leaned back, resting his head against the leather seat. “I’m finishing up one of the contracts for the brewery.”
Lately, he’d been working a lot for Gage Devereaux’s company. Benedict Brewery was on the verge of breaking nationally, which meant a lot of late nights for her dad.
“How was school? Did you have a good day, Leelee?”
She smiled at the nickname. All her life she’d been Leelee to him, never Leslie. “School was good.” She slouched her shoulders. “Well, not good. Beau hit Derek.”
John set his glasses on his desk. “Why? Is he okay?”
“He claims it was an accident, but Derek’s got a bruise on his cheek.” She rested her hip on the corner of the desk. “Daddy, can you sue Beau or something on Derek’s behalf? Emotional cruelty or perhaps assault?”
John folded his hands on his desk, a deep crease spreading across his brow. “You know the law. Derek has to file charges, or at least seek compensation. Were any charges filed?”
She shook her head. “No. Ms. Greenbriar took Beau to the office, but I doubt she will do anything to him.”
He sighed. “And I doubt Carol Foster would pursue any legal fight with the Devereaux family.”
Leslie perked up, intrigued. “Why? Because she dated Beau’s father in high school?”
John narrowed his gaze, appearing somewhat menacing. “Where did you hear that?”
“Mrs. Foster told me a little about it. I got the impression Mr. Devereaux meant something to her.”
John picked up his glasses, redirecting his focus to his paperwork. “They were very close in high school. I remember seeing them holding hands everywhere they went, but everyone knew the Devereauxs never liked Carol.�
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She scooted up on his desk, hoping to distract him. “Why not?”
John hesitated, staring into his daughter’s eyes. “Her father was the brewery foreman at the time, and they were uncomfortable with their son dating the daughter of an employee. I’m sure they discouraged the relationship.”
A whole new perspective on the Devereaux family popped into Leslie’s head. She’d always thought of them as stuck up and pretentious, sort of like her mother, but had never considered them cruel.
Concern for Dawn weighed on her. “Do you think they will do that with Dawn? I mean, you work for the brewery like Mrs. Foster’s father.”
He chuckled, and his brown eyes lit up. “No, sweetie. Things are different now.”
“Are they? Mom wants me to stay away from Derek because she’s a snob and doesn’t think he’s good enough for me.”
“I heard that.” Shelley barged into the room. “And just because I don’t like your boyfriend, young lady, does not make me a snob.”
Leslie stuck out her chin. “Then what other justification do you have for the demeaning remarks directed at my boyfriend, Mother?”
Shelley angrily squinted at her husband. “You see what your influence has done? Now she’s even talking like a lawyer.”
John held up his hands. “Don’t drag me in the middle of this. It’s your argument, not mine.”
Shelley folded her arms, smirking exactly like Dawn. “After raising twin girls, I think I’m better at winning arguments than you’ll ever be.”
John scanned the paperwork on his desk. “I have no doubts about that.”
“Ah, hello!” Leslie stood and waved her hand, angrily redirecting her parents’ focus to her. “I still have a question awaiting an answer.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Shelley turned for the office door. “Dinner is ready,” she announced before heading out of the room.
“Why does she always do that?” Frustrated, Leslie folded her arms and plopped down on the corner of his desk. “I ask a question, and she totally ignores me. But Little Miss Perfect can ask a question about the weather in Cleveland and Mom will give her a three-page report, complete with pie charts and a website.”
“Leelee.” His voice softened as he rose from his chair. “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?”
“No, I’m not. She hates Derek just because he’s not all rich and popular like Beau. But she won’t even get to know him. She never lets him come over, or even bothers to talk to his mom. And whenever I want to go out with him on a date, I have to give her an itinerary, ten personal contacts, and a freakin’ urine sample.”
John chuckled. “Your mother has her faults, but she isn’t that bad.”
“Then why does Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes get to go everywhere with Beau while I get to face an interrogation just to go out for pizza with Derek?”
He stood from his chair. “Because your mother knows Beau. Knows his family, and she feels comfortable with him.” He held up his hands before she could shout a reply. “He’s known as an upstanding kid.”
Her hopes of ever getting her mother’s approval for Derek sank like a stone in a shallow pond. “And what about Derek? What do I do to make her see what a good guy he is?”
“I’m sure she will come around. You know how resistant she is to change, just like your sister.” He patted her shoulder. “Give her some time.”
Leslie pouted, doubting her mother would warm up to Derek. “Didn’t you ever want to spend time with your girlfriend in high school? I’m not talking about having sex, Dad, just hanging out.”
John rubbed his forehead. “Leelee, please. You’re going to give me a heart attack. The idea of either you or your sister—”
“Hey, Daddy.” Dawn bounded into the room. “I can’t wait to tell you what happened to me at school today.”
“Aaaaand I’m outta here.” Leslie stood and headed for the door.
Dawn frowned at her sister. “What’s up your butt?”
Leslie spun around. They looked so alike yet were so different on the inside. While they had been inseparable when they were little, somewhere along the way they had grown apart. Now she didn’t even know Dawn anymore. Beau had driven a wedge between them as wide as the Grand Canyon. Why bother telling her what Beau had done? She wouldn’t believe her.
“Nothing’s up my butt.”
Dawn rocked her hip to the side, frowning just like their mother. “Is this about Beau and Derek going at it today? Just so you know, my boyfriend told me what happened. You were flirting with him in the hall. Derek got jealous and then accidentally walked into Beau’s elbow.”
Leslie’s fury heated her cheeks. “You little toad! Why in the hell would I want a scumbag like Beau when I have Derek?”
“Girls,” John edged in.
“You’re kidding, right? Beau is so much more than the loser you’re dating.”
John’s voice rose higher. “Girls!”
“Derek’s not a loser!” Leslie got right in Dawn’s face. “He’s got a better GPA than your Neanderthal and will make something of himself one day.”
“What’s going on in here?” Shelley burst through the door.
Dawn pointed at Leslie. “She called my boyfriend a Neander … something.”
Leslie crossed her arms. “Neanderthal, you idiot.”
Shelley rushed between the two girls. “Enough. There will be no name calling in this house. Between each other or of Beau Devereaux.”
Leslie scoffed. “And what about Derek? I can’t call Beau names, but she can make fun of my boyfriend? That’s not fair.”
“She has a point, hon.” John eyed his wife.
“You’re not helping,” Shelley grumbled, and then shifted her focus to Leslie. “I think you could learn from your sister’s example. Dawn has a future with Beau. What do you have with that … that boy?”
Gutted, Leslie trudged toward the door. Her mother just didn’t get it. She stopped halfway across the hardwood floor and glanced back at her mother.
“You’re unbelievable.”
She sniffled as she crossed the room.
Would it even matter to her mom if she knew all the horrid things Beau had said to her? The torment she’d suffered for months? If she said anything, her mother would twist it around and she would end up shouldering the blame. Leslie couldn’t stomach that. So, she would keep her mouth shut, no matter how much it ate at her.
“What about dinner?” Shelley’s voice echoed behind Leslie.
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
She ran up the steps, anxious for the sanctuary of her bedroom.
Chapter Five
Beau strolled down the elegant curved mahogany staircase. He stepped onto the hardwood floors and caressed the newel post at the end of the steps. Shaped like the head of a horse, the bit pulled taut in its mouth, he admired the pain carved into the creature’s bulging eyes.
He headed along the hallway, tugging his book bag over his shoulder, the occasional moan of the floor echoing around him. He glanced at a massive gold painting of New Orleans he liked, bought by some dead relative a century ago. Family portraits of other deceased members of the Devereaux clan littered the white wainscoting covered walls. He passed the tall cypress door to his father’s office, not bothering to check inside. His old man was an early riser and probably on his way to the brewery.
At the end of the hall, he turned down a slender corridor to the kitchen and the entrance to the five-car garage. He enjoyed the quiet in the morning after his father went to work and before his mother crawled out of bed. It made him feel like it was all his, for a little while anyway.
In the kitchen, Beau went around the beaten copper-covered breakfast bar to the refrigerator.
His father appeared, holding a coffee mug.
Beau froze, almost afraid to move when he spotted him.
Gage Devereaux rested his hip against the black granite countertop. Tilting his head slightly, he inspected his son. In his usual attire—a l
ong-sleeved shirt and slacks—he came across more like a casual businessman than a ruthless capitalist. Except for their height and physical prowess, Beau felt he had nothing in common with his father.
He attempted to relax by shifting his book bag on his shoulder. “Didn’t expect to find you still home.”
Gage set his mug on the counter. “I wanted to speak to you before you left for school.”
The hint of condescension in his father’s voice tightened his chest—it usually signaled a lecture.
“I got a call from Ms. Greenbriar yesterday afternoon. She said you visited her office after a run-in you had with Carol Foster’s boy.”
Beau’s fingers twitched, the way they did when his aggravation got the better of him. Great. The idiot woman had called his father. The last thing he needed was Gage Devereaux up his ass.
“Derek is dating Dawn’s sister, so I often see him at school.” He tempered the irritation in his voice, not wanting to annoy his father. “I was talking to Leslie when Derek walked up. I accidentally caught him with my elbow when I turned around. I apologized and everything is fine.”
He waited, analyzing every move his father made, searching his hard eyes for an inkling of his mindset.
“I’ve spoken to you before about this.” Gage came around the breakfast bar. “This family is in a precarious position with everyone in town. I don’t want your actions threatening our business or our good name.” He gripped Beau’s shoulder. “What have I always told you? What is our rule?”
Beau cringed as the words he’d spent a lifetime dreading screamed through his head. He faced his father, standing at attention. “Self-control in all things. Never let anyone see who you really are.”
Gage leaned closer. “No matter what anyone says, no matter what they do, you walk away. This includes your girlfriend. Do you understand?”
Beau stiffened at the low, menacing tone in his father’s voice. “Yes, sir.”
Gage lifted the left side of his mouth ever so slightly. “Go to school.”
Beau stood by the breakfast bar, not moving a muscle as his father headed to the garage. The door clicked shut and a trickle of sweat ran down his temple. His jaw muscles cramped from clenching, his heart rate slowed, and he glanced at his fists. His father’s warning spinning in his head, Beau slammed his hand down on the copper bar.
Death by the River (A St. Benedict Novel Book 1) Page 3
