Last Breath (The Good Daughter 0.5)(37)

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re a good person, Miss Quinn. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.” Flora grinned, showing her teeth. “You’re honest and fair. Friendly and helpful. Considerate and—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Charlie walked toward her car before she got charged with assaulting a minor.

She’d be damned if she let a teenage meth queen humiliate her with the Girl Scout oath.





7

Charlie sat at the kitchen table with a leftover cinnamon bun and a ginger ale. She did not know which one her stomach needed more. Frankly, it did not matter. She was too exhausted to lift her arms to pick up either of them. She could only sit in her chair staring blankly at the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

Ben had bought them when they moved in together. One was shaped like Pepé Le Pew, the other Penelope Pussycat.

“Get it?” Ben had asked. “Pepé is the pepper.”

She let her eyes find the clock on the wall. He was late getting home from work. This was one of his on-call nights. The assistant district attorneys took turns catching after-hours cases. He usually called Charlie to let her know if he was running late. Maybe that was the reason her cell phone had rung outside the diner.

Charlie forced herself to stand up. It was cheaper if she checked her phone messages through the home phone. She found the cordless by the fridge where she’d left it this afternoon. Dorito-dust fingerprints were still on the numbers. She heard her cell phone ring in her purse and in her ear. She pressed in the code for her mailbox.

“Hey, babe,” Ben said on the message. “Did you see that call from Visa? Our card number got jacked this morning. Somebody dropped a buttload of cash at Spenser’s. Can you believe that place is still open?”



Charlie hung up the phone.

The YWCA bathroom. Her purse spilled onto the floor.

Flora must have copied the number on the Visa before she put the card back in the wrong place.

“Jesus.” Charlie sank back into the chair.

What the hell had happened to her today?

At the age of thirteen, Charlie had stopped trusting people. You didn’t watch your mother die in front of you without turning into a cynic. Florabama Faulkner had somehow managed to sneak past Charlie’s bullshit detector. The girl was obviously good at deceiving people. Maude had been fooled. Or at least she had let a lot go unchecked. Then again, Ken Coin had seen through the act.

Which hurt on a lot of levels.

Was Charlie really that gullible? Or was Flora really that good?

Ben’s car pulled into the garage. His radio was up so loud that she could hear Bruce Springsteen clearly singing about Philadelphia. Or as clearly as Bruce Springsteen was capable of.

She closed her eyes. She listened to his car door open and close. The kitchen door open and close. She didn’t open her eyes until his keys clicked onto the hook beside hers.

“Hey, babe.” Ben kissed the top of her head. He sat down at the table across from her. “I heard you were at the station today.”

“Did you hear why?”

“The boss has been uncharacte?ristically silent, but I Scooby-Doo’d it out that it pertains to those apartments.”

She nodded, knowing she could not fill in the details. Flora was a budding psychopath, but Charlie couldn’t break attorney—client privilege. Even if the girl deserved it.

Ben said, “Coin wasn’t happy when he got back from the station, so I am assuming you did a good job.” He picked up the cinnamon bun and took a bite. He watched Charlie as he chewed. “I thought you weren’t going to those apartments by yourself because they’re dangerous?”



“I’m sorry I lied.”

“I knew you were lying, but I had to get my objection on the record so I could say I told you so.”

“You earned it.”

“I told you so.” He offered her the rest of the cinnamon bun.

She shook her head.

He asked, “Can you tell me what’s wrong? No details, just the big picture?”

“I—” Charlie stopped. Her brain felt too tired to do the acrobatics required to tell him something without telling him everything. “Do you think Belinda and Ryan are happy?”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Because of the kids? I mean, the baby and the one on the way?”

Ben wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t think so. They kind of had the kids because they thought it would fix their marriage, right?”

“Is that what Ryan said?”

Ben made a funny face. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

She said, “Can you blame him for being unhappy? Belinda’s kind of a bitch sometimes. I love her, but—”

“That’s not fair.” Ben put down the cinnamon bun. “She’s not that different from the way she’s always been. Ryan knew what he was getting into. If it wasn’t working, then he should’ve told her and given her a chance to fix it. And the same way with him. You work on problems. You don’t tear into each other and try to win.”

“It’s too late now. They’re stuck with each other.” She added, “At least, Belinda is. She said everything changes when you have kids. That you’re trapped. That your husband treats you differently, looks at you differently.”