“Good. Then let’s do that. I don’t want him coming back for it, not ever.”
“I have a feeling that won’t be a problem,” Vendell said, pulling a blank sheet of paper from his desk drawer. “Now, be certain, and be specific. Evan can help you if you want.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 48
The phone never stopped ringing. The doorbell was constantly chiming. Rachel had to have Evan disconnect both of them before he left with Remy for the lawyer’s office. “I’m about to lose it,” she said, her hands tangled in her fiery locks. “Everyone wants a quote, everyone wants to poke around and ask questions.”
“It’s standard procedure,” Frank said. “Case like this one? You can be assured they’ll be here for the trial as well.”
“Oh, God. Trial?”
“Seems Cooper Lavelle is insistent for one. Claims he’s not to blame for the Long boy’s death.”
“Like hell. Evan told me what happened. I’ve heard Sam murmuring in his sleep, when he crashes out here on the sofa. He might not have pulled the trigger, but he was set on having one of the boys killed that day. I don’t think he cared which one.” Rachel snorted. “Thanks for coming back, Frank. It means a lot to Sam, to have you help him with this.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t ask you. Or Evan. Really, I just met the lad a couple months ago.”
“I’ve noticed if Sam likes someone, he sticks with them. He’s loyal. Just don’t cross him.”
“Quite.” A bemused smile crossed the eighty-year-old’s face. “I pity the man his father sends.”
A knock on the door cut their conversation short. “Here we go,” Rachel said. “Sam!”
“They’re here?”
“Pretty sure. Get dressed.”
The sounds of Sam pulling clothes out of his closet trailed down the stairs. Footsteps soon followed, the weight of one hundred sixty pounds of bone and muscle striking worn floorboards. “Ready,” he said. “Kitchen?”
“Yes.” She looked at the lawyer she had let in, a young man barely older than Sam. “Follow me,” Rachel said, leading the man into the next room.
“I’m sorry to be here at such a time,” he apologized. “I’m from North Kingston. It’s a shame, really, what happened.” The look on his face seemed genuine.
“Thanks,” Rachel said. “I’ll leave you two alone.” She saw Frank sitting at the table with Sam, his hands folded as though he were ready to do combat and was planning strategy.
“I’m Paul Coronet,” the lawyer said, directing his voice toward the younger man. “I have some papers for you to sign.”
“I know. This is Mr. Parker,” Sam said, gesturing toward the space where Frank sat. “He’s here to make sure I understand what I’m signing.”
“I can appreciate that. Basically, it says that you are rescinding all ties to your father, both legally and financially.” He handed Sam a Brailled copy. “I took the liberty of having it Brailled. Your father didn’t bother to have that done.”
“Thanks. I’m surprised he told you about my blindness. It’s not something that comes up with him.”
“I got it from the news reports,” Paul said, embarrassment flushing both his face and his voice. “No one mentioned it at the office.”
“Oh. Still, I appreciate it.” Sam’s fingers skimmed the raised dots littering the document. The file was quite sizable, given the thickness of the paper. “It seems straightforward. What do you think, Mr. Parker?”
Frank looked at the document, which was refreshingly free from a lot of legalese. “Frankly, it seems simple enough. He’s not asking anything outlandish. Merely that you agree that you are your own person, and that he is no longer physically or financially responsible for you.”
“I guess I don’t understand,” Paul said. “You are of age, right?”
“I am. Though I have been living off of what he puts in my account every month. That reminds me, I need to file papers for a government check. And insurance and food stamps. Otherwise, I’ll be broke and starving.”
“I can help you with that, lad, though I doubt Rachel would let you starve,” the Englishman said. “Everything seems in order. There’s a place to put your signature.”
“Do I sign the print one or the Brailled one?”
“The print one,” Paul said. “But that’s a good question. Can you sign your name?”
“Give me a pen.”
Paul pulled one out of his waistcoat pocket. Sam took it in his hand and pressed his finger on the paper. He then very slowly eked out the letters in his name, using his finger as a guide to keep the printing relatively straight. “Someone usually writes it clearer next to or underneath it,” he said. “I should have a Braille stamp made that spells my name, with the print version underneath.”
“People used to put an X down because they couldn’t read or write,” the young lawyer said. “But, your signature is good. Congratulations, Sam. You’re your own person now.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“I mean it. Honestly? I don’t care much for your old man either. Needs to check his ego at the door.”
Sam grinned. “But?”
Paul sighed. “But the job pays well. And I need money to start my own small firm. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“Good luck,” Sam said.
“I’ll walk you out,” Frank said, rising from his chair. As the lawyer left, he saw Evan pull into the driveway with Remy.
“Hi, Mr. Parker,” Remy said, clamoring up the porch stairs. “How’d it go?”
“Remarkably well. Sam had no need to worry. I’ll be by in a few days to help him file for benefits.”
“Good.” The young man shrugged his black fuzzy jacket off his thin shoulders and hung it on the coatrack near the door. “Hey, Sam! Guess what?”
“Remarkable,” Frank said as Evan shook off the bits of gently falling snow from his coat.
“What is?”
“Those lads. Everything’s changed, and yet, it’s like it’s just after that break-in again.”
“Well, Remy got wiser, that’s for sure.”
“And Sam has gained more voice. Don’t think for a moment that I didn’t see he was constantly playing peacemaker between Remy and Josh Long. He’s standing up for himself more.”
Evan led the man into the living room. “I really didn’t think he’d take on his father, though. Sherman Davis can be an intimidating SOB when he wants.”
“The benefit of not ever physically seeing the man,” Frank mused. “Hard to be afraid of what you can’t see.”
“True.” Evan paused a moment, letting the events of the morning sink in. “Have you had any luck finding out what Cooper was up to all those years ago?”
“Sadly, no,” the older man said. “I believe it will remain a mystery. I am, however, keen to look into Cooper’s movements since he came to Otter Lake. I’m not so sure his brother’s accident was an accident, if you get my meaning.”
“I’ve got that feeling too, after talking to Vendell. Things he said, they weren’t adding up. Plus there’s Eric’s comment from that night. Something isn’t right there.”
“Another task for me. God, I can’t tell you how much fun it is to be back in the game, even if only unofficially. Did Remy speak with his lawyer?”
“He did. You’ve got access. Truth be told, I think Vendell has the same theory we do.”
“Good, good.” Frank sighed. “You know, Evan, my furnace is making these little knocking sounds…”
Evan sighed. “Okay, Frank. Let’s go have a look before it becomes a problem. I hear it’s supposed to snow again tonight.”
“Five inches. Plus I hear it’s supposed to get colder by nightfall.”
“Great. Means I’m putting the fire on. Probably kick back with Rachel and watch a movie.”
“Speaking of the young lady, have you set a date?”
“Are you kidding?! I’m lucky she’s still got the ring on.
A sudden beep blared through the house, and the sou
nds of plastic smashing drove the two men toward the kitchen, Evan fast outpacing his older friend. “What the hell?”
“Forgot the paper plates were on the stove,” Remy explained. “I turned on the wrong burner.”
Evan laughed as Sam felt around for the bits of what had been their smoke alarm. “Well, never a dull moment around here.”
“True enough,” Frank said. “True enough.”
Chapter 49
Winter turned into spring. The first rays of sunshine were beaming down on the old weeping willow tree, and the light was sparkling on the softly rippling waters of the lake. Rachel sat out on the dock, book in hand, letting the warm sun beat down upon her.
“Almost need a camera,” a voice said behind her. Startled, Rachel looked up to see the pale eyes and wispy blond hair she’d fallen in love with the moment she’d laid eyes on Evan Dyer, shivering on her front porch.
“How did it go?”
“Good,” Evan said, pulling up the other deck chair that sat on the floating pontoon dock. “Frank’s insistent to sell the old place. I told him not to, what with it being a good investment and all, but he’s determined. Far as I can tell, the place is ready to be sold.”
“Hmm.” Rachel set her book down on the scruffy turf-like fabric that covered the deck’s wooden planks. “Should let Penny Long know about that.”
“She and Mark are planning to move?” Evan shook his head. “I don’t blame her. They moved here to help their son, and now…”
“I thought so too, but it seems she’s got a new cause. I’ve seen her taking a lot of meetings with Rosa lately, up at the school. It’s easy to forget she was a social worker once.” She smiled. “I’ll bet she’s planning herself a new career of some sort.”
Evan leaned back in the battered chair, taking in some of the warm rays. “Time will tell, I guess. First things first though—we’ve gotta help move Frank in pretty soon.”
“We…what?” Rachel did a double-take. “Come again?”
“Yeah, I didn’t mention that?” A mischievous smile played on thin lips. “Frank’s set on spending the rest of his days in that back bedroom upstairs. Says, and I quote, “My nephews can go and bugger off.” End quote.”
“I knew they were all pushing for him to go into a nursing home—God knows why—but really, here? Why here?”
“I don’t question these things, babe,” Evan said, leaning in to kiss her. “But he’s set. We’ve got the space, and he can make the stairs without too much problem. Who knows? Gives us an excuse to install an elevator sometime in the future?”
“You know how much one of those bastards costs? I do. They ain’t cheap.”
“I have the feeling Frank would foot the bill. Seems investigative work in the legal field can be pretty lucrative, if you know how to work it.” Evan shrugged. “I like the guy. Kind of wish he’d been my dad, instead of the bastard in Carolina.”
“I like him too, but are you sure he knows what he’s moving into? I mean, Remy and Sam aren’t really problems, but…”
“I think that’s the other reason he’s decided he’s moving here. He loves those two. Say what you want about the hand you’re dealt when it comes to family, but I think he’s found one here in this house.” He looked at his fiancée. “Keeps asking us about when we’re having the wedding.”
“Oh, God,” Rachel said. “I keep dreading the phone calls from the press about everything else that happened. Plus there’s Cooper’s trial…can you imagine trying to have a wedding in the middle of that zoo?”
“Yeah.” Evan sighed at the thought. “I can’t believe he’s still trying to claim he had nothing to do with it. I heard him give the order. Sam and Remy did too. The idea that he can just claim ignorance...” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“From what I understand, he’s claiming someone else gave the order. Plus, I think he’s trying to have the three of you discredited in court. He’ll play up Remy and Sam’s disabilities—Remy was out of it, Sam can’t actually see who gave it, that kind of thing.”
“And me?”
Rachel shrugged. “My guess? He’ll play up the fact that you’re good at hiding things; that you lied by omission a lot before all this went down.” She stared at him. “He’s going to bring up the fact that you were a prescription drug addict, and that you could very well have been high during that whole ordeal.”
Evan rolled his eyes. “Shit. I’ve been clean since I moved here, but it’s still going to haunt me. I’ll be damned if I let him squiggle through on some technicality.” Pale eyes stared out at the water, taking in the sunlight reflecting off the shallow waves.
“Squiggle through?” Rachel laughed. “Is that a technical term?”
“Uh-huh.” Long arms stretched out from the deck chair, and a back creaked into place. “Personally, I think he’s doing it to torture Remy just one last time. Considering I know the Mason brothers all pled out, especially Jack Mason. Hard to argue with two dead bodies in the basement and everyone pointing the finger at him, really.”
“They did? Good.” A snort escaped Rachel’s nose. “That’s one family that won’t be causing any more problems for a while.”
“Probably the only good thing they did was agree to testify against Cooper,” Evan agreed. “Even Dayton was wise enough to avoid a trial—Frank tells me he’s agreed to thirty years for kidnapping, conspiracy to commit kidnapping, and reckless endangerment.”
“That seems low.”
“Well, the downside was that he was too busy tormenting me to have been a party to a lot of the other crimes. The upside is that he did endanger both my life and the kids’ as well as engineer a couple of kidnappings. It’s just a shame Michigan isn’t a death penalty state.”
“No,” Rachel said. “This is better. Let him rot with his conscience.”
“There would have to be a conscience there to begin with,” Evan pointed out.
“Seems funny that after all that, the man would agree to prison time,” Rachel mused.
“He got what he wanted. My reputation is in shards, and someone I cared about was taken from me. We can never get back that part of what he took.” A cloud fell over a thin face as he mulled this point a while. “In the end, to him doing the time is well worth it.”
“But look what you’ve gained,” his fiancée reasoned. “You’ve got friends who care about you and a family that loves you.” Rachel grinned slyly. “Suffice it to say, I’m going to have to get out of renting for the foreseeable future, seeing as my tenants are looking to become long-term.”
“Hah hah. You’d no more have Sam or Remy leave than you would turn up on opening day of deer season with a rifle filled with birdshot.”
“True. At least we’ll keep the income from their rent. Frank’s too.” She paused. “That reminds me, I have to talk figures with him.”
“Well, he’s here,” Evan said. “Left him in the kitchen with Remy and Sam. They were making some kind of cookies, last I looked.”
“Better see if they’ve burned the place down, then,” Rachel said, rising from her seat. The pair headed toward the back door to the kitchen hand in hand.
Chapter 50
“Sam, that’s the wrong bottle,” Remy said.
“It is not,” Sam huffed, his well-worn finger tracing over the Braille label on the bottle. “It says vanilla right on it.”
“But it’s…”
“Oh, let him put it in, lad,” Frank called out from his seat at the kitchen table. “Heavens. I thought Rachel was kidding when she said baking with you lot was an experience.”
“You missed it when Josh was here,” Remy said. “Lots of times things got burnt.”
“He wasn’t that bad,” Sam countered, measuring out two tablespoons of brown liquid into a mixing bowl. “Although now I know why his mashed potatoes were always so runny.”
“I remember those. Why were they so bad?”
Sam grimaced. “He used water instead of milk.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, Josh wasn’t a good cook. I think we got lucky when it was his turn to make dinner—he managed to make things that he couldn’t mess up too badly.” A cup of flour fell into Sam’s bowl.
“Had to make things interesting, though,” the eighty-year-old man said.
“Oh, it did.” Remy shook his head. “What kind of cookies are these again, Sam?”
“Double chocolate chip. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Remy’s frame fell onto the top of the barstool he claimed as his own. “Maybe I should take Mrs. Reed’s restaurant class next year. Could stand to learn how to make more than soup and eggs.”
“Don’t you learn from Rachel?” Frank asked.
“We do,” Sam said. “And she’s pretty good. But I happen to know that a certain someone is planning on taking the restaurant class next year too, and her name happens to be Libby.”
“Maybe,” Remy said, his tone cagey.
“Is it serious?” the Englishman asked.
“I like her. A lot. And she hasn’t dumped me yet. She also knows when to ask me questions about certain stuff and when not to. I like that too.”
“Remy, a terrible thing happened to you boys,” Frank said gently. “And from what my Lola would say about her students, it’s the kind of thing that is going to make people ask questions. Not many people live through such an event.”
“Don’t we know it,” Sam muttered, putting down the spoon he was using to measure out cookie batter.
“At least it’s over,” Remy said. “Although I wish we had the death penalty here. If anyone deserves it, it’s my uncle. And that guy Dayton—the one who was pissed at Evan. It’s their fault, what happened.”
“I say let them rot,” Sam said. “What good does it do to kill them? Once it’s over, they don’t suffer anymore. For what they did, especially your uncle? They need to live with that.”
Remy snorted. “Need a conscience to make you feel guilty for that to work. My uncle never had one, I don’t think.”
A knock on the door stopped the conversation cold. “Great. More people,” Remy groused. He half walked, half stormed over to the door and wrenched it open, the warm sunshine pouring through the opening. “No interviews,” he spat, giving the standard answer Evan and Rachel had drilled into both he and Sam in the weeks since their kidnapping.
In the House On Lakeside Drive Page 24
