by A. C. Arthur
“Hey. What’s up? I’m a few minutes from mom and dad’s but I think I need you to stay on the phone with me until I get there,” Amber said before pulling off again.
Fiona was always ready to talk so her sister had immediately gone into the fact that she was at their parents’ house as well because something had happened with the new place she’d thought she would be living in. Amber barely listened as she continued to drive the short distance to her parents’ house and parked in the driveway. The white car slowed down as Amber shut off her engine. For a minute she’d thought it was going to park and whoever was inside was going to get out and…do what? Her heart beat rapidly in her chest the entire time she waited to see. The moment there looked like it was going to be danger Amber was going to cut off Fiona’s endless chatter and tell her to call the police.
Luckily, she hadn’t had to resort to that plan. The white car drove off and Amber breathed a sigh of relief. She finally got out of her car and walked towards the front door, but not before looking up and down the street again, wondering, what the hell that had all been about.
#
Brandon was in a pretty bad mood which had begun with him waking up at six in the morning on a Saturday. Two weeks later and he was still getting up at the same time when he knew Essie would want to go out to take care of her business.
“Damn dog,” he’d said as he sat on the side of his bed in the dimly lit room.
The room where he’d been sleeping alone and hadn’t liked it one bit. But such was the way of life, he thought. You win some and you lose some. That had been a familiar saying from his youthful days. In those days he hadn’t wasted time rehashing when and where the thing with the woman went wrong. It was always a ‘thing’, never a relationship, with him, because they never lasted that long whether he’d wanted them to or not.
These past couple of weeks had been a struggle for him, in more ways than one. Not only had Amber returned to Chicago, but the DNA test results were still not in. Dane hadn’t seen or heard from his mother, at least that’s what he continued to report to Linc. Devlin was still in town because Dane was here. The man who had been Trent’s closest friend for years and who had been around their family more and more in the last year, was still as standoffish and non-communicative as he’d always been, so anytime Brandon checked in with him to inquire about Dane’s movements, it had been like pulling teeth. He wondered what the hell was up with Devlin Bonner, but decided not to ask. It would only add to the long list of issues he was currently dealing with.
“I need another damn vacation,” he said in the quiet of his room.
His father was still staying with him in one of Brandon’s guest rooms. Renovations had already begun on the house and Albert, who was now cleared to drive and to go back to work on a reduced schedule, was checking on its progress daily. Their co-existence in Brandon’s apartment had been going surprisingly well, especially since Brandon had re-instated his contract with the meal service.
“They manage to make this wheat pasta taste almost good,” Albert said a few nights ago when he and Brandon were having their dinner in front of the television where they watched a basketball game together.
“It’s not that bad and wheat pasta is better for your health,” Brandon told him.
“Yeah, I know,” Albert replied. “Amber was really good at making the healthy stuff taste good.”
“She didn’t cook all healthy meals,” Brandon replied as he forked another hunk of pasta into his mouth.
When Amber cooked shrimp scampi for them it had tasted much better than this. He continued to chew regardless of that thought.
“No. She didn’t. That lemonade was sinfully sweet and her cinnamon waffles, man, I could go for some of those right about now.”
“She’s gone, dad,” Brandon said with finality before standing and taking his unfinished plate into the kitchen.
When he returned, Albert had set his plate on the end table beside him and was drinking the one glass of wine he was allowed for the day.
“Your mother is gone too,” he said after the silence had extended for a while.
Brandon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know that, dad.”
“But you don’t know it all,” Albert said quietly.
When Brandon looked at his father it was to see him holding his glass in both hands. Albert stared down at the liquid in the glass silently.
“Tell me,” was all Brandon said.
“I know there were two police and autopsy reports,” Albert said. “Even before I heard you and Brock on the speaker phone the other night talking about it. I knew.”
Brandon recalled that conversation and how upset Bailey had been about it because as far as they were concerned, those documents confirmed that their mother’s death was no accident.
“That damn letter was delivered early that morning,” Albert continued. “Just as we were getting ready to go to the hospital for Darla’s last treatment. She opened it immediately and I just didn’t think there was any reason I should stop her. We hadn’t heard from Roslyn in a few years by that time so I didn’t even imagine that she was once again in our lives.
“But when Darla turned to me with the letter in one hand, the envelope in the other, I knew. She turned the envelope upside down and the pictures fell out. I made a move to scoop them up so that Darla wouldn’t have to see them, but she stopped me. Pushed me right out of the way and picked those pictures up off the floor.”
Albert shook his head then and breathed a heavy sigh.
“I didn’t know what to say. Sure I’d told her everything I remembered about that day, but those pictures, they told a story of their own. I was naked and on that bed and so was Roslyn. It seemed so clear and then again still so damn confusing. When I tried to explain, even though I didn’t know how, Darla stuffed everything back into the envelope and said we had to go. So we went to the hospital. We came home and she went upstairs to lay down. I went into the kitchen to boil some water for tea. Darla liked a steaming hot cup of chamomile tea after her treatments. She said it calmed her stomach and allowed her to sleep.”
Brandon noticed his father’s hands shaking on the glass as he spoke.
“I never even heard her leave the house,” Albert said. “The house phone rang just as I was about to take Darla’s tea upstairs. I turned back and answered the line in the foyer. It was her, Roslyn.”
Brandon gripped his knees with his hands as he continued to listen.
“’I’m sorry it had to be this way.’ That was all she said.” Albert spoke in a hushed tone as he repeated, “’I’m sorry it had to be this way.’”
“I hung up on her. There was nothing to say to that conniving woman, nothing at all. I had a wife to take care of so I continued up the stairs, expecting to see Darla huddled under that blue and gray throw she loved so much. But she wasn’t there. I searched that whole house, Brandon, I did. But I think I knew with every step I took because there was this emptiness in my chest and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. That’s why I was so winded when the phone rang again. I thought of Roslyn and I yelled into the receiver, but it wasn’t her. It was the police.”
Al leaned over and set the glass on the end table. He took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Your grandfather was a big man around here. He also had a temper and didn’t mind letting it loose whenever possible. His political connections made him a force to be reckoned with, even beside the Donovan name. Most in this area didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with Barton Kenner.”
“Then why write two reports? Why not say there was someone else involved? Wouldn’t Gramps have wanted to know that his daughter had been killed?” Brandon asked, trying like hell to hold on to his anger.
Albert nodded. “Yes. He would have wanted to know and then he would have wanted the person who’d done it to be hung in the public square if he could manage it. Barton was a hard and vengeful man.”
“So you hid it. You and your brothers worked with the
cops and the medical examiner’s office. You used your bit of power to get them to bury the fact that someone had run my mother’s car off the road, right along with all your other secrets,” Brandon spat.
“We didn’t know for sure that it was Roslyn. Bernard didn’t think she had the guts to do something like that. Neither did Henry. We just thought maybe someone was driving drunk and hit her.”
“It was the middle of the day,” Brandon countered.
“We didn’t know,” Albert repeated.
“You didn’t know but you didn’t want anyone to dig around and find out. You let her die for your transgressions! You let my mother die and you did nothing about it!”
He was yelling and rightfully so. It disgusted him. It tore at his heart and it infuriated Brandon to no end because now, there was nothing any of them could do to bring Darla back.
That night had been a turning point for Brandon. It had put a clear glaze over the family’s circumstances and reminded him of a pain that he’d never wanted to feel again. A pain that only came from loving someone so very much.
It was a good thing that Amber was gone, he’d told himself right after his father’s confession. It was a good thing he hadn’t allowed himself to fall completely in love with her. Wasn’t it?
This morning the answer was a resounding no.
He missed Amber and her damn dog. He missed her smile and the comfort she’d exuded by simply being there. With his elbows now resting on his knees, his head hanging low, Brandon asked himself, “So what are you going to do about it?”
The answer was as clear as the beams of early morning sunlight that filtered through the partially closed blinds in his room.
Standing, Brandon went to his nightstand to grab his phone. He searched for Amber’s name in the contacts and was only slightly alarmed to notice that all he had by way of personal information for her, was her cell phone number. No email address, no mailing address, no home phone. He frowned.
Okay, he could call her and tell her that he needed to see her, that he was willing to come and visit her this time. But that would give her the opportunity to say no. She could tell him to stay home, especially since it had been four days now since she’d been gone and he hadn’t called or text her in that time. He hadn’t done so because the thought of hearing her voice or communicating with her in any way was painful. It was a reminder that she was no longer here, that maybe she didn’t want a future with him, the way he’d been thinking of one with her.
It was cowardly, Brandon knew, and his mother would have hated that.
Darla did not like anyone taking the easy way out or backing down from a fight. Would she be disappointed in him if she were here? Brandon had no doubt she would, hell, he was disappointed in himself. He should have understood Amber’s reason for wanting to leave. He hadn’t promised her anything and he hadn’t respected her personal goals and obligations. In short, he’d been an idiot.
Well, that was done and now he was determined to find her and to make arrangements to get to Chicago as soon as possible. Sure, he could have simply called and asked for her address, saying he wanted to come see her, but Brandon didn’t want to leave the door open for her to say no.
He grabbed his tablet and immediately did a reverse phone number look up. Her name showed up as the owner of the phone, but no address. Next, he searched the public records in Chicago, the Northbrook area because he remembered her mentioning that when she was here one day as she’d talked to his father. Two homeowner names appeared as a result of him typing in Amber’s name.
At first, Brandon thought he was seeing things. It was still pretty early in the morning. So he rubbed his eyes and tried to refocus. He looked at the screen again and the names were the same. Brandon thought about what he was seeing for a second, running quickly through every scenario and possibility that he could, always ending up at the same point.
“Dammit!” he said through clenched teeth. “Dammit!”
The names on the screen were: Elder and Zelda Ausby, owners of 429310 Oakridge Manor Drive and 120 Ussa Glen Lane owned by Amber Elaine Ausby.
Chapter 16
Chicago
Amber had to be dreaming.
That uneasy feeling was back, settling in the center of her chest like a lead weight. She almost broke her neck turning back and forth, looking everywhere, straining her eyesight as it was too damn dark to see anything. But there was something to see, or someone, she should say. She knew it without a doubt.
Was it the person in the white car?
Someone else?
Billy maybe?
All she knew for certain was that she didn’t like feeling on guard and afraid. It was time to run or to confront, which one she wasn’t certain but she was ready for either. Only, there was no way that Amber could ever imagine what she was about to experience, no way at all.
She tossed and turned in her bed, sweat beading her forehead as the sheets tangled around her legs. With a series of vicious kicks she rid herself of the blankets but still felt trapped and hot and then…cool fingers rubbed along her forehead.
“Calm down,” the female voice said. “You’re having a bad dream. I used to have those all the time.”
Amber’s eyes shot open fear engulfing her instantly as she saw the shadowy figure standing over her.
“Who the hell—” she began to say until the lamp on the nightstand beside her bed was switched on.
“Hello Amber,” the woman said as she smiled down at her.
Amber swallowed and then let out a sigh of relief. “Aunt Roslyn? Is that you?”
Roslyn took a step back and smiled. Amber hadn’t seen her father’s sister in years, not since she was a little girl, but she remembered the sassy look the woman always had in her eyes.
“You’ve got a good memory,” Roslyn said.
Sitting up in the bed now, Amber rubbed her eyes and then asked the most obvious question, “How did you get into my house?”
Roslyn made a tsking sound as she walked away, moving slowly around Amber’s bedroom. She wore black slacks and a pink blouse, her long hair feathering back from her face.
“You shouldn’t leave your back windows unlocked, my dear niece,” her aunt told her.
Amber was almost certain her windows as well as all her doors were locked when she’d gone to bed last night.
To celebrate the news of their first investor Amber, Rita, Delta and Fiona had gone out last night, hitting their favorite karaoke bar where they’d had drinks, hot wings and lots of laughs. The Saturday night crowd had been live and they’d ended up performing for almost a hundred people at that bar. It had been lots of fun and very late when Amber had finally made it home, but before she’d gotten out of Delta’s car, her sister had implicitly said, “Lock up tight once you get in.”
Amber replied to her overprotective sister’s instructions with, “I will. Text me when you get home.”
So there was no doubt in Amber’s mind that she’d walked around the house making sure everything was secure because Delta’s motherly tone would have echoed in her head all night if she hadn’t.
“You shouldn’t be here,” was Amber’s next statement. “Dad said you weren’t coming back.”
Roslyn chuckled then as she dragged a hand over a dolphin statue sitting on Amber’s dresser.
“My dear old brother,” she said. “He’s always been in a rush to get rid of me. Wished like hell I had never been born I guess.”
“That’s not true,” Amber said, recalling the stories her father had told them all about her aunt and her condition. “He just wanted you to get help.”
“Is that what he told you?” Roslyn asked. “Of course it is. They always have a reason for throwing their women away like trash.”
Amber watched her aunt wondering when she should reach over and grab her phone to call her father to let him know she was back in town. Her father wouldn’t be happy to hear that news as the last time they’d seen Roslyn she’d held a knife to Elder Ausby’s
neck.
“That’s what Brandon did to you wasn’t it?”
The question had Amber’s heart skipping a beat. “What did you just say?”
Roslyn tilted her head and quirked her lips. “You heard me. Brandon Donovan pushed you right out the door after he was finished with you. I would say that’s your fault because you shouldn’t be walking around here believing that men like their women on the fluffy side. That has never been true,” Roslyn said with an arch of her brows as she looked down at Amber in her nightgown.
Amber did slip off the bed then, grabbing her cell phone off the nightstand as she did. “You should go now, Aunt Roslyn. I can tell daddy that you’re on your way over to see him.”
Roslyn laughed. “I’m not even going to visit my big brother and his judgmental ass. Like I told him the last time I was here, I’m through taking orders from men that don’t give a damn about me. You should be too.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Amber said, but she was afraid she did know.
Her aunt had been following her. She had been the reason Amber was feeling so uneasy. But why? They’d never been close. Roslyn couldn’t get close to anyone because nobody ever knew what to expect from her. Would she be laughing and playing a board game one moment and then screaming at the top of her lungs, trying to choke someone to death the next? Would she smile and flirt with the man at the corner store until he gave her a free soda one day and then vandalize that very same store the next? That was her aunt, two sides of a very sick coin. Her father said she’d been that way all her life, but that her condition had been well controlled while she was in therapy regularly. That was really all they could do for someone like her, to try and keep a steady stream of positive thoughts and open dialogue so that she would remain as levelheaded as possible. It hadn’t worked, especially not when at age seventeen after the death of her parents, Roslyn had stopped all treatment and refused to ever go back.
“Look, I don’t have a lot of time to mess around with you. I do have other things to do. I just wanted to stop by to tell you not to waste your time with those Donovan men. Brandon is just like the rest of them. He won’t love you. He can’t. It’s not in their DNA.”
