“Not hurting me.” Her voice was smooshed.
He relaxed his grip. “Why was that the word you jumped to?”
“Because that’s what you were insinuating! Duke was always a perfect gentleman. He was so much nicer than any of the boys my age. They’re all a bunch of Neanderthals. If you’re worried about somebody bothering me, those are the idiots who deserve your concern.”
“What did the boys at school do to you?” he demanded.
“What don’t they do?” She threw her father an exasperated look. “They pretend to hug us from behind to cop a feel. That sort of thing. And they know how to do it so the teachers won’t notice.”
Faye gasped. “Even with all the no-touching rules they have?”
Hadley rolled her eyes. “They always think up ways to get around it. Duke wasn’t like that. Ever.” Fat tears spattered down her cheeks. “You couldn’t have asked for someone to treat me better than he did.”
“He never touched you?” Brad demanded.
She wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Don’t ask what you don’t want to know.”
Like an arrow to his heart. He stumbled backward, the world spinning out of control.
It was a good thing Duke was already dead. Otherwise, Brad would march next door and kill the predator himself. Any judge in their right mind would side with him.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Faye asked.
Hadley leaned against the wall and slid to a sitting position, clinging to the sweatshirt. “Because I knew you’d freak out like you are now.”
Faye knelt in front of her. “We just want to take care of you.”
“Oh yeah? Dad looks like he’s going to pass out from anger.”
“I think he’s taking in the news.” She squeezed their daughter’s knee. “Are you okay?”
Hadley buried her face in the sweatshirt and shook her head no. “My boyfriend is dead.”
In love. Boyfriend. It was like she was trying to end him with her words.
“We’re getting you into counseling,” Faye said. “There’s no way you can deal with this on your own.”
Her answer for everything.
But this time, Brad wasn’t about to object. His daughter needed an anti-brainwashing program after having been deceived by a predator.
“Great,” Hadley mumbled. “Can you guys leave me alone now?”
“After you answer one more question.”
She looked up, makeup smeared across her face. “Then you’ll go?”
Faye nodded. “You weren’t involved with his death, were you?”
“Mom! No, of course not. Never. We were going to get engaged after my graduation.”
Brad struggled to breathe.
Faye’s eyes widened. “You had marriage plans?”
“Engagement.”
“That’s crazy,” Brad said. “You’re too young to be thinking about any of that.”
“Really?” Hadley narrowed her eyes. “You and Mom got married when she was twenty.”
Faye covered her mouth.
Brad struggled to take a deep breath, to think of something to say. Not that it mattered. Duke was dead. The pervert couldn’t marry his baby.
It was all in the past.
Hadley leaped to her feet. “I answered your question, now go!”
Faye reached for their daughter. “But I—”
She darted away. “No. I have to be alone now. I’ll do counseling or whatever, but I can’t deal with this — with you two — right now.”
Brad put his arm around Faye, his pulse racing in his ear. “Let’s give her space.” He glanced back at Hadley. “This is far from over.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Faye closed the bedroom door, memories of their early years of marriage strobing through her mind. Brad throwing things across the room. Punching a hole in a wall, a door, a dresser. Flying off the handle for no reason. Screaming at her because he’d imagined a reaction she hadn’t given him.
All baggage from his past, all aimed at her. It damaged her deeply.
It had taken years of therapy to heal, to get past it all. And even now, Brad still had a temper. He just knew how to control it these days.
Not that it could change the past. The wasted years. Her early twenties could have been spent having fun and finding herself. Instead, she’d been avoiding flying objects and learning how to avoid his fury — by trial and error, usually discovering some deep-rooted trigger by accident. His words and tone like a slap to the face.
If she hadn’t gotten pregnant with Hadley, her twenties would’ve been a total waste. Faye had been dedicated to Brad, to their marriage. She felt bad for him, knowing all he’d endured. She’d been there with him through the aftermath of his dad’s murder.
It had forged a bond between them — Faye, the soother, Brad, the wounded soul. As soon as they married, all his vitriol was aimed at her, as though she had been the enemy. Not his father’s murderer. Not his mother, who never thought counseling would help him.
Faye had been the one to prove her mother-in-law wrong. Their therapist had done wonders. Granted, it took a while. At first, Brad wouldn’t go. Then he resisted help even after he did. Laughed at the suggestions. But when Faye packed her suitcase, Brad finally realized the severity of his problem.
Begged, pleaded, promised change. Finally, he stepped up and took the doctor’s advice seriously. Learned to put the past behind him — where it belonged — and, as a result, had less anger day to day. Stopped taking everything out on her.
But still, nothing could ever bring back the wasted years.
She would never admit it out loud, but given the chance to go back in time, she would do things differently. How, she wasn’t sure. Faye loved their children with all her heart and could never imagine life without them. It would be incomplete. And she couldn’t have Hadley or Luna or Zeke without Brad.
Faye imagined demanding change earlier. Packing bags years before she did. Getting professional help for herself despite his early insistence that such a thing was only for the weak. A crutch for losers.
It killed her that she’d tolerated so much. Wasted the best years of her life, living in fear, always walking on eggshells, not knowing when he would blow up next.
And now Hadley wanted to marry young. To risk the same heartache when she had her entire life in front of her. She could spend her twenties traveling the world, getting to know herself, exploring what life had to offer.
But instead—
“Faye?” Brad waved his hand in front of her.
“Stop.” She glared at him, regret transforming into irritation.
“We have to talk about this.”
“I know.” Faye stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it, barely feeling the blankets supporting her.
“Our daughter was sneaking around with that predator next door!”
“Nothing we can do about that now.” Relief washed through her. Hadley had been spared the heartache Faye had endured for so long. Sure, she’d have her own demons to fight. Losing a boyfriend to murder would haunt her for years — not unlike Brad and his father. But she would get professional help. She wouldn’t abuse anyone with her own wounds. She wouldn’t have the regrets that her mother had been forced to live with.
She’d been spared. Given a new chance at life.
“You don’t look nearly as worried as I do,” Brad accused.
Faye blinked a few times. Stared at her red-faced husband.
“Well?”
“I’m processing the news. Give me a minute.”
He turned away. “At least you aren’t saying I told you so.”
“I’m not a toddler.”
Brad tugged on his hair. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to make counseling appointments for all of us first thing in the morning.”
“Great, but I mean, what are we going to do?”
“About what?”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Hadley!”
/> “We need to be there for her. Can you imagine what she’s going through right now? The love of her life was murdered. She’s only seventeen. I don’t know how she’s managing.”
“She was also abused. Groomed by a child predator.”
“We don’t know that it was like that. They may have just fallen in love.”
“He was twenty-five, and she’s only seventeen!”
“That’s the legal age in some states.”
He glowered at her. “Not here.”
“There was a time you were an adult, and I was a minor.”
“We only had a two-year age gap, and we met in high school. It’s totally different. I never took advantage of you.”
“It isn’t that different.”
“Are you serious?”
“Young love is blind.”
His nostrils flared. “What she’s experiencing is abuse, not love.”
“And she’ll be in counseling. Daily, if necessary. But she’ll be fine.”
He paced, stopping just in front of her. “Why don’t you seem concerned about this?”
Her heart skipped a beat. The last thing she wanted was to voice her marital regrets. “Of course I am! Who insisted we talk to her about the sweatshirt?”
“You were a lot more concerned before she admitted to sleeping with the man next door.”
Faye took a deep breath. “It’s over, Brad. He’s dead. It’s impossible for her to go back to him. We need to be concerned with getting her grief counseling.”
“Grief counseling? Try abuse recovery. This is going to mess her up for life.”
“Therapy helped you! You’re a completely different man from the person you were when we first married.”
“Stop trying to compare her with us. Not even on the same playing field.”
She stared him down.
His lips pursed. “Is there something you want to say to me?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“That’s what I just said.”
Brad threw his hands up in the air. “I can’t believe this.”
“What?”
“I see what you’re doing!”
“What?” she repeated.
The silence felt like a lead weight pressing on her.
“You’re glad she doesn’t have to stay with the same man she chose young. Like you did.”
Faye’s stomach dropped. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to!” Spittle flew from his mouth.
“Brad, you know I love you. The life we’ve built together. I wouldn’t exchange anything we have.”
“Anything we have now, right?”
She swallowed.
“I knew it.”
Bile rose in her mouth.
“Can’t deny it, can you?”
“I love you. Everything we have together.”
“But you settled.”
“It’s not like that—”
“I need to get some air.” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Brad flung himself on the barstool and ordered a beer without looking at the bartender. His mind raced, unable to believe his wife of twenty-three years still regretted marrying him.
Hadn’t they gotten past that years ago?
Apparently not. She hadn’t even tried to convince him that he was wrong.
All she was concerned about was that Hadley wouldn’t make the same mistake she’d made. Marrying him.
Twenty-three years together. And for what?
He gulped down the drink as soon as it appeared in front of him. Ordered another. He would drain the bar if he could.
How could the regret be her takeaway from this situation? Their daughter had been groomed and abused by a man who pretended to be a stand-up guy.
What would the neighbors say if they knew what Duke was really like?
They’d say Brad killed him. That he had more motive than anyone ever imagined.
And they wouldn’t be wrong. Except that he’d had no clue and never had the opportunity to kill his daughter’s abuser.
Brad took the next drink and sipped it. Needed to think. Couldn’t do that if he got drunk.
Then he’d do something to really make Faye regret marrying him.
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. She was already regretting him. Why not go all the way?
He chugged the rest of his beer and waved at the bartender for another.
Relaxation massaged his muscles.
That sent red hot irritation through him. Good. He didn’t want to be relaxed. Needed to stay angry and clear-headed.
Which meant this new drink was his last.
“Are you okay?” asked a feminine voice next to him.
He turned to see who was flirting with him.
Detective Stewart. Glowering, not flirting.
“I’m fine.” He turned back to his drink.
“You’re drinking like a fish.”
He held up the glass. “It’s only my third one. Is that illegal?”
She shook her head. “But it’s a lot for five minutes.”
“Who asked you?”
“Do you need a ride home?”
He snorted. “You’d like that, huh? I’m not answering any of your questions. And speaking of that — leave my kids alone. You don’t get to talk to them without my permission. My daughter wasn’t joking about calling an attorney.”
The detective nodded.
“What are you doing here, anyway? Following me?”
“Here on another case.”
“Don’t let me interrupt you.”
She smirked. “You’re not.”
He turned from her and sipped his drink, not caring what she thought. Probably should a little since his goal was getting her off his back, but he didn’t.
“Tell me more about the Valderdorf knife.”
“It’s rare.” He took another sip, staring at the rows of alcohol on the shelves behind the bar.
“How rare?”
“Mostly owned by collectors.” He twisted his glass in a circle. “And people from the company, but you could call most of us collectors.”
“What’s so special about it?”
“The blade is cobalt blue, like all of our blades.” It was so easy to slip into salesman mode. He could discuss the knives in a drunken stupor, and he had only a buzz at the moment. “But the Valderdorf has a unique curve to the blade. Most people choose to display theirs, but plenty use them as well. The knife works as well on meat as on heated butter.”
“Really?”
He turned to the detective. “I’m surprised you don’t know this. It’s hardly classified information. You can find that and more on our website.”
She pulled out her tablet and made a note. Hopefully, that meant she’d be leaving him alone. “Do you have a Valderdorf?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“And do you display yours?”
“A few in my private collection. Mostly, we use our BlueBlades.”
“So, what exactly do you display? I don’t recall seeing any in your home.”
“Do you want a complete list? I don’t know all of them offhand.”
She studied him with an unreadable expression.
Or maybe it would be readable if he hadn’t just emptied three glasses of beer. If he’d known she was going to show up, he’d have at least slowed down. “Is that everything?”
“Did Duke have a Valderdorf?”
“How would I know?”
The detective cleared her throat. “Did you sell him one?”
“That would be a no.”
“I thought you two were friendly.”
“We had friendly competitions,” Brad clarified. “I never once said we were friends. Just neighbors. You know how people are these days. Barely wave at the people next door, much less know the names of everyone on their street. Welcome to the twenty-first century.”
“Yet you had your neig
hborhood over for a party this weekend?”
He gritted his teeth. “It was a Super Bowl party. Neighborhood tradition. Duke had been hosting them since he moved in. Faye and I thought we’d try to boost the community morale by making sure it went on in his honor.”
“In Duke’s honor?” She made more notes.
Brad wanted to get up and leave, but she’d only follow him. “That’s what I said.”
“Anything else you can tell me about the knife?”
“Like I said, it’s on the website. Do you need the URL?”
“No thanks.”
“So, you’ll be going now?”
“I find it interesting that a rare knife from your company was used.”
He shrugged. “A lot of people in my neighborhood buy BlueBlades.”
“Really?”
“I do talk about them when people ask about my work.” He finished his drink.
“How often does that happen?”
Brad shrugged. “It tends to come up in conversations when people move in. But I’m not pushy about it like Duke always was with his supplements.”
“He was pushy?”
“Maybe that’s too strong a word.” He drew in a deep breath. “He was a top MLM marketer, so he knew how to bring his products into a conversation. I’m sure it was just natural for him to mention it with neighbors.”
“And you don’t know if he owned one of your knives?”
“Like I said, I wouldn’t know.”
She pushed her stool back.
Finally.
“If you think of anything else, give me a call.” She handed him another card.
“I already have one. Two, actually.”
“Then this will make it a collection.” She smiled before walking away.
Brad shook his head and turned back to his empty glass.
“Refill?” asked the bartender.
“Not yet.” Everything was already spinning around him, and not from the alcohol. He rubbed his temples, wishing he’d thought to take some ibuprofen earlier.
“Brad?”
He spun around. “Rose, what are you doing here?”
“Remember? I said I was coming here to talk to your neighbor.”
“You did?”
“At work.”
“It’s been a seriously long evening.”
Dead For Good Book 1 Page 12
