Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead(Finlay Donovan #2)(103)

A mother’s love. The irrepressible instinct to protect her child.

Holy shit! Was my own mother FedUp?

My mind reeled back to that first message on the forum. A real piece of work … 100 Good reasons the world would be better off without him … FedUp hated Steven, but she had never come out and stated she’d wanted him dead, or that she was willing to pay for it. Nor had she voiced any overtly sinister requests in any of the emails we’d exchanged. Vero and I had thought FedUp was speaking in code, being intentionally vague to avoid detection, but what if it was all just an innocent mistake? What if FedUp hadn’t schemed to hire a contract killer and stiff the bill? What if she was just an angry mom, bitching about her awful ex-son-in-law, oblivious to the chain of events she was setting in motion?

I lifted my wineglass, downing the entire thing in one long swallow. Nick glanced up from his plate, his brows drawing together as I stared hard at my mother. “This website sounds like a real cesspool,” I said. “A lot of awful, horrible people doing awful, horrible things. Steven could have been killed. Nick’s lucky he survived.” Vero pinched my elbow under the table.

My mother tossed her napkin on her plate. “Finlay, if you’ve finished, I could use some help in the kitchen.”

“Gladly.”

She pushed up from her chair and carried her dishes with her. I followed her through the swing doors.

“So,” Vero said through a nervous laugh, “who’s got money on the game tomorrow?”

The sounds of their conversation faded as the doors swung closed behind me. My mother’s plate thunked down on the counter beside the sink. I stacked mine on top, folding my arms, watching my mother as she opened the refrigerator and searched for the whipped cream. “What on earth were you thinking?” I asked in a low voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mother, I know you’re FedUp.”

Her hands shook as she closed the fridge door. She cast an anxious look toward the dining room. “How could you know that?”

“You’re the only one who hates Steven that much.”

“Does your sister know? Or Nick?” she whispered.

“Only Vero.”

She crossed herself as she sagged against the counter. Her voice shook. “That picture they sent … the emails asking for money. I had no idea that website was run by the mob. Or that someone would think I wanted Steven to die. I mean, I’m not saying I never thought about it. Or secretly wished that a bus would come out of nowhere and—”

“Mom.”

She pressed her mouth shut. “I had no idea I would be putting you or the children in danger. It was a misunderstanding. A mistake. I never should have posted on that forum.”

“What were you doing on that website to begin with?”

My mother wrung her hands. “Do you remember how I told you I hired that service to help me fix our computer after your father downloaded all those nasty viruses?” I nodded, recalling the awkward conversation we’d had in my kitchen. “I was so embarrassed and upset about what your father had done, but the technician they sent to the house was so lovely and understanding. She assured me it happens to a lot of people our age. I made her lunch, and she told me all about some of her other clients who had gotten themselves into trouble like that—you know, visiting questionable websites … that some of them couldn’t help it—and their wives had to go to lengthy measures to keep anyone else from finding out. Time got away from us, and before I knew it, she was telling me about this special privacy software. She even helped me install it. And then she showed me this women’s group where she said lots of wives go to complain about their husbands. She showed me how to set up my own email account, separate from your father’s, and she even helped me register a profile on the forum and pick a name. I spent hours reading messages on the group after she left, and she was right; it was so cathartic, Finlay! There were so many other women like me, whose husbands had done foolish things. And some whose partners were just downright terrible, like Steven. I know you don’t like it when I speak unkindly about him, but I’ve been so frustrated and angry, watching the way he treats you, knowing there’s nothing I can do to make it better. He’s so proud of himself and that stupid farm, always rubbing his money and success in your face, and I thought people should know who he really is. That he’s not a nice man. That he hurt someone I love. And I just wanted a place to get those feelings off my chest.” She looked up at me, apologies brimming in her eyes.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at her, trying to make sense of how we got here. I reached for her and pulled her to me, holding her as she cried.

“I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger,” she sobbed against me. “When that picture came, I was sick over it. I was so afraid. When I called and you said Steven was fine, I’ve never felt so relieved. I thought maybe the whole thing had been a joke. A scam. Someone out for my money.”

“Have either of them contacted you since?” Two weeks’ worth of tension slipped from my shoulders when she shook her head. I drew back to look her, wiping tears from her cheeks. “It’s okay, Ma. I don’t think anyone will try to hurt Steven again. I know you’re angry with him. I am, too. He may have been a horrible husband, but he’s trying to be a good father. Delia and Zach love him very much, and they would have been destroyed if anything happened to him.”