“So what? None of that can be used to prove you murdered your husband.”
“No, but it’s more than enough to contest the will.”
“Is that why you killed him?”
“Of course it is! What else was I supposed to do?”
“Offer him more money than Carter did,” he said simply.
“Really? So he could take the money and give the evidence to Carter anyway? Or so he could blackmail me for the rest of my life? I don’t think so.”
“At the very least, you should’ve disposed of the bodies somewhere other than your own property.”
“I only killed him. I had nothing to do with the other one.” Though I couldn’t say I was very upset about her death. She knew too much and was starting to become problematic. I’d considered getting rid of her and probably would have gone through with it eventually, but someone else beat me to it.
“So, why are you really here?”
“I need a place to lay low until this blows over.”
“I might have somewhere for you to stay, but you’re going to work while you’re there.”
“Doing what?”
“Packing and shipping orders,” he said with a sly smile.
And just like that, I was right back where I started.
1
ASPEN
Shit. Fuck. Damn. Piss. Hell.
Son of a motherfucker.
I was beyond screwed. So far beyond screwed words couldn't begin to describe the depths of my screwedness.
I was also frustrated. And pissed. Which resulted in angry tears. And I fucking hated angry tears.
Mostly because once they started, I couldn't get them stopped until my face was an unhealthy shade of red and covered with a mixture of snot and tears.
I sighed and wiped my face again.
There was one person I could call. He made sure to tell me that the last time I saw him in person and every time I’d spoken to him on the phone since then.
“Call me if you ever need anything.”
I knew he meant it.
Even though I wondered why he kept up with me, I never asked him. And if I was being honest with myself, I was afraid to ask.
Regardless, I was glad that he had. Because I was about to take him up on his offer. He was my last hope, and I had no idea what I would do if he couldn’t help me.
It had been a few months since the last time I’d talked to him. And that was no one's fault but my own. I couldn't explain it, but it felt weird that one of my mother's many ex-boyfriends was the closest thing I had to a father figure in my life.
The few years he and my mother were together were the most stable of my entire existence. I didn’t have the words to describe what that felt like, but it wasn’t pleasant. To know that someone who was once a complete stranger cared more about you than your own family was a feeling no child should experience. And if I ever had my own children, I would cherish them, and make sure they knew how much I loved them. In other words, I would do everything the polar opposite of the way my mother had raised me.
At first, he called frequently, and I usually answered. Over time, I didn't pick up as often for various reasons, but we did talk every few months. It was hard actively avoiding him, but it was even harder to engage. Because it hurt. A lot. How could this man who hardly knew me and wasn’t related to me care about me more than my own mother did? And what would happen when he found a family of his own? Because he would. He was a good man just waiting for the right woman to come along. And I didn’t think I’d survive being thrown to the wayside again.
