Family Ties (Flesh & Blood Trilogy Book 2)

by Morgan, Christina

  “Thanks for coming,” I said. “Are you hungry?”

  “No, I don’t think I could eat a bite.”

  “A drink then?”

  “Sweet tea?”

  “My favorite too.”

  I motioned for the waitress and when I finally got her attention, she walked over, apologizing for taking so long.

  “It’s fine. Can we have two sweet teas?”

  “Nothing to eat today?” She looked offended. Probably because she knew it meant little to no tip.

  “Not today. Just the teas.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She turned on the heel of her black clogs and headed toward the kitchen, her long black ponytail swinging from side to side.

  I turned my attention back to Harper. She looked even more demure in real life than in the pictures I had seen on Facebook. I resisted the urge to offer her some lipstick. Her hair was pulled up into a loose, messy bun on the top of her head and her black, probably fake, Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses were resting on top of her head.

  “So what did you find out?” Harper asked with wet eyes.

  “Unfortunately, your instincts were dead on. He is definitely having an affair. I’m so sorry, Harper. I wish we were wrong.”

  “I figured. Who is it?”

  I sighed. This was going to be the worst part. If she knew what Shelly looked like, it was going to be a kick in the gut. “Shelly Turner. His secretary. Just like you thought.”

  Harper let out a deep sigh and fell back against the booth. “Yep. I knew it.” I watched as she tried to maintain her composure. She was biting her thin bottom lip and tears were threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

  “Listen, Harper…” I knew telling her about my personal experience was probably a bad idea, but I felt compelled to let her know she wasn’t alone. Plus, I hadn’t had a friend in years (besides Dani), so there was that. “I know exactly how you feel. My husband died earlier this year. And I found out shortly after his death that he’d been having an affair.”

  “You? I can’t believe any man would cheat on you! I mean, look at you!” It was the nicest compliment I had received in a long time and my heart melted.

  “I appreciate that. But yes, it was very painful. So I know exactly how you feel right now, believe it or not.”

  She looked out the window, clearly contemplating something serious. “He just called me about half an hour ago. Told me he got called in to work. Said he wasn’t sure when he’d be home.” She turned her gaze on me. “So where is he really?”

  “At the Howard Johnson. With Shelly.”

  “Here in town?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, my God. So my husband is literally right down the road fucking some bimbo?” she shouted, louder than I’m sure she meant to.

  She grabbed the handles of her purse and started to slide out of her seat.

  “Wait, Harper. I wouldn’t do that.”

  She slumped back down into the maroon leather booth. “Why not?”

  “You don’t really want to see him right now, do you?”

  She shrugged half-heartedly. “I dunno. I guess not. I just want to confront him, though.”

  “And you will. But you have to be smart about it. You can’t go charging over there and bang on the door without planning ahead. Do you even know what you’d say to him?”

  “I’ll think of something. Did you take pictures?”

  I pulled my phone out of my purse, opened the first picture and slid it across the table. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for him,” she said as she grabbed my phone and stared down at the photographic evidence of her husband’s infidelity.

  She swiped through the pictures I had taken without saying a word. When she got to the last picture, she slid my phone back across the table. “How much do I owe you?”

  I thought on this for a second or two. Technically, I had told her my rate was fifty dollars an hour. With travel, my research and the time I’d spent surveilling Brad, I should have charged her about three hundred dollars. But looking at Harper and knowing exactly how she felt in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “It’s on me.”

  “Really? I can’t let you do that. Let me pay you something, at least, for your time.” She reached into her oversized knock-off and produced a red leather wallet.

  “No, seriously. I’ve been where you are. Every investigator does pro bono work from time to time. It really didn’t take me long.” I didn’t want to mention the fact that all of my work so far had been pro bono.

  “Well, there must be something I can do.”

  “Just keep me in mind if anyone else you know needs an investigator. There’s no better advertising than a satisfied client.”

  “Thank you, Libby. And I will definitely send people your way. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a cheating husband to confront.”

  “Do you really want to go confront him all by yourself? I could go with you.”

  “Really? You’d do that?”

  “Absolutely. I never got to confront my husband. It would be my sincere pleasure to see the look on his face. Not to mention that bimbo Shelly.”

  “Whore.”

  “Yep.”

  I left a ten-dollar bill on the table to cover our sweet teas, plus a little for the waitress we saw only twice, and followed Harper out of Copper River.

  “I’m parked over here,” I told her. “You can follow me.”

  Harper got into a late-model, white Toyota Camry and followed behind me as I exited the lot. We made it to the hotel in less than five minutes. Harper parked right next to Brad’s Altima and I parked next to her.

  She motioned for me to join her in her car and I did.

  “They’ve been in there for almost two hours,” I informed her. “They should be out any time now.”

  “Or, they could be screwing for hours and we’ll be here all day,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “I don’t have anywhere else to be. I’ll wait with you.”

  “What happened to your husband, if you don’t mind me asking? You said he died?”

  I drew in a deep breath, let it go, and told Harper everything. I don’t know why. Maybe I was trying to fill the time while we waited to confront her husband. Or maybe I was so desperate for a friend to confide in. The only true friend I had, Dani, was living in Cincinnati with her husband and toddler son and we rarely had time to talk. Harper sat listening quietly until I finished by explaining about Randy and how he’d hired me to investigate his case.

  “Wow,” was all she said at first. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke up again. “Do you think you would have forgiven him? Your husband? If he hadn’t died, that is.”

  I had thought about this many times before she asked me that, so by that time, I knew the answer. “It depends. If he was truly sorry, yeah, probably. Ryan and I had been together for nearly eight years. We’d been through so much together. Even if he wasn’t sorry, I still would have forgiven him, but I would have left him in a heartbeat.”

  Harper seemed to contemplate this momentarily. “You’re a better woman than I am. I’m going to castrate Brad.”

  Only because I knew she was being dramatic did I join her in her laughter.

  Just then, the back door to the hotel opened and out walked Brad with Shelly under his arm. They were smiling as they walked down the sidewalk toward Brad’s waiting car. He opened the door for her as he had at the golf course and she slid into the passenger seat.

  “Bastard,” Harper said under her breath as she opened the car door. Before I could react, Harper was storming around her car toward Brad’s and screaming his name.

  Brad’s head jerked up in shock and he froze like a statue when he saw Harper standing three feet away.

  “Harper?” he asked incredulously.

  “That’s right, asshole. It’s me. Your wife. Remember me?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here? Are you seriously asking me
that question?”

  Brad’s face was red as a beet and his hands were trembling. I looked over at Shelly, who was ducking low in the passenger seat, trying in vain to hide herself.

  When Brad didn’t say anything else, Harper took an angry step forward. “Really, Brad? Your secretary?” She turned her attention to Shelly. “I see you, by the way…whore.”

  “Harper, I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean anything. Can we go somewhere a little less public and talk about this?”

  “I don’t mean anything to you?” Now Shelly was in on the conversation, leaning out of Brad’s car with a wounded look on her face. I debated whether I should get out and help defuse the situation, but thought I’d best leave Harper alone and let her do this her way.

  “Not now, Shelly,” Brad said, waving her off.

  “No, now is exactly the time to talk about this. You’ve been promising to tell her about us for months. Well, now she knows. Now you can get rid of her lousy ass and we can be together.”

  “You bitch!” Harper screamed as she lunged toward where Shelly was sitting with her legs hanging out of the car.

  I jumped out of Harper’s Camry and grabbed her by both arms, pulling her back just as Brad stepped between the two women. “You don’t want to do this. Trust me.”

  I recalled the day I had punched Ryan’s mistress and the assault charges I narrowly escaped. I didn’t want Harper to risk going to jail over some good-for-nothing homewrecker.

  “Who the hell are you?” Brad asked, shocked at my appearance out of the blue.

  “She’s my friend,” Harper answered before I could say anything.

  “Harper,” I said calmly. “I think we should leave. You and Brad can talk about this when you get home. Someone’s bound to call the cops if we stay here much longer.”

  “Listen to your friend,” Brad said. “Let’s go home and talk about this.”

  “So that’s it?” Shelly asked, getting out of Brad’s car. “You told me we’d be together. You said you’d leave her!”

  Brad turned to face Shelly. He had only a second to decide who he was choosing. The weight of his decision played plainly on his face. I prayed for Harper’s sake it would be her. He looked like a truly tormented man, but I didn’t feel one bit sorry for him.

  “Shelly, I love my wife. I’m sorry if I led you on, but I want to save my marriage if at all possible.”

  “Asshole!” Shelly shouted at him before she stormed off. God only knew where she was going or how she was getting there, since Brad had driven her to the hotel.

  Brad turned to face Harper again. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Can we please go home and talk about this?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” Harper said with her arms folded across her chest. “I’m going to hang out with Libby for a while. You have two hours to go home and get all your shit out of the house. I want you gone by the time I get home.”

  “Baby…”

  “Don’t baby me, Brad. You’ve been fucking your secretary behind my back for how long now?” She looked at him, waiting for a response.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, Harper. Maybe six months.”

  “Six months?”

  “Yes, but it didn’t mean anything. It’s you I love. I don’t know, I guess I just got caught up in the excitement of it all.” He threw a glance my way. “Can we not do this in front of your friend? Please. Let’s go home.”

  Harper turned and started walking back toward my car. “I’m done, Brad. Go home, get your shit, and get the hell out of my life.” She jumped into the passenger seat of my Sorento and slammed the door.

  I gave Brad a “fuck you, buddy” look and got back in the driver’s side.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked her.

  “Yes,” she said resolutely. “I’ll get my car and drive around a while. Give him time to get his things from the house before I go back there.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone at a time like this,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll stay with you.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course. Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do. How about some ice cream?”

  This brought a smile to Harper’s face. “I’d love some.”

  ***

  We parked in the Bruster’s Ice Cream parking lot, killing time. I had ordered my favorite, Oreo Cheesecake, and Harper had gone with Cotton Candy Explosion.

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going to go to my empty home, drink a bottle of wine, and cry myself to sleep,” she said with a shrug.

  “No, I don’t just mean tonight. I mean, beyond that. Do you have kids?”

  “No. No kids. And no job, either. So I have no idea what I’m going to do. I used to work in IT at the bank before Brad and I got married, but he never wanted a wife that worked, so I quit after our wedding.”

  IT. She had mentioned she was good with computers during our first conversation. The idea came to me almost immediately.

  “You could work for me,” I offered cautiously.

  “Work for you? But I don’t know anything about being a private investigator.”

  “No, not as an investigator. I could really use someone with good computer skills. Someone to take my calls, set appointments, do some research, etcetera. I really need someone to help me with my father’s case. What do you say?”

  Harper thought about this briefly then turned to face me. She reached out her hand. “You’ve got a deal, partner.”

  Chapter 5

  Within two weeks, I’d found a little house to rent in Nicholasville and moved in. It was a quaint little Cape Cod on West Chestnut Street with white vinyl siding, maroon shutters, and a matching door. There were three bedrooms, which was two more than I needed, but the price was right and the upstairs loft was perfect for an office. I bought some cheap office furniture from people I met on the local Facebook Yard Sale page and spent all of one Saturday painting everything white so it would all match. Dani even came down and helped me paint the inside walls to a nice neutral beige instead of the hideous maroon and hunter green the owner had chosen. I hung my degree and investigator’s certificates in white wooden frames on the walls and put up a corkboard for posting messages and notes. The house now had a nice, cozy, neutral feel about it.

  Harper came over nearly every day to help with a couple of cases I picked up, thanks to her referral and my Craigslist ad—one bail jumper and two more cheating spouses. We quickly became friends as well as business associates and I relied on her heavily for support. She even helped me set up an LLC using LegalZoom.com with the company name she came up with—Thoroughbred Investigations. Kentucky is considered the “horse capital of the world,” so the name was perfect.

  It was a Tuesday morning when I received a collect call from Big Sandy Federal Penitentiary. I accepted.

  “Hello, Randy.”

  “Hey, Libs. Have you made any progress on my case?”

  I figured I might as well be honest with him. “No, sorry. I’ve been busy setting up my company, but I plan on starting this week.”

  “I understand. Gotta get those bread-and-butter cases going. Anything interesting?”

  One of my cheating spouse cases had, in fact, been very interesting, but I wasn’t really ready to chit-chit with Randy like a normal father and daughter would just yet, so I avoided the question. “Is there anything else I should know before I start digging around?”

  He was silent for a brief moment, then said, “No, nothing I can think of.”

  “Great. So I have nothing to go on, besides your word that you’re innocent. That and five dollars won’t get me a Starbucks coffee. But I’ll do the best I can. The problem, Randy, is that you have no alibi for the times when any of the women went missing. That’s part of what sunk you the first time around…that and your confession.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I was a trucker, Libs. I was on the road constantly.”

  “If I’m going to work on your
case, Randy, I have to know one thing.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why did you confess? If you didn’t do any of it, if you’re really innocent, why on earth would you confess to being a serial killer?”

  Again, he didn’t answer right away. “You wouldn’t understand, even if I tried to explain it to you.”

  “Try me,” I said seriously.

  Then an automated voice came on the line, advising us there were only thirty seconds left before the call would disconnect.

  “Some other time,” he said. “Just do me a favor and get the file from my attorney. Everything you need to know should be in that file. Do you know how to find him?”

  “If he’s still alive, yes, I’ll find him.”

  “Great, Libs. Again, I can’t thank you enough for…”

  And the line went dead.

  “Your father?” Harper asked me when I laid the phone back down on the kitchen counter.

  “The one and only.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “Nothing helpful, unfortunately. Do me a favor, will ya? See if you can track down an old attorney named B. Cecil Hayes. He’d be old as dirt now, if he’s even still alive, so I doubt he’s still practicing. I just need a phone number or an address.”

  “I’m on it,” Harper said as she left the kitchen and headed upstairs to the office.

  Since the big showdown at the Howard Johnson, Harper had stuck to her word and made Brad leave the house and filed for divorce. Brad, despite his protestations of love and devotion that day in the parking lot, had immediately run back into the arms of his slutty secretary, Shelly. In Harper’s mind, this proved she had made the right decision.

  I had helped Harper find a good divorce attorney, Ava Winters, of the law firm Winters, Turner & Burton, who had a reputation for being a pit bull in the courtroom. She was going to need it, though. Since Brad had been the sole breadwinner of the household and Harper had stayed home at his behest, a relatively decent amount of spousal support was likely. However, since they didn’t have kids, and Brad had mortgaged the house solely in his name, he would likely get to keep it, once the dust settled. I told Harper she could stay with me, since I had more room than I needed. She had taken me up on the offer, even though she hated the thought of her husband bringing his dirty mistress into their marital home.