The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games #2)(74)

“Heiress?” There was a question in Jameson’s deep green eyes. I wasn’t sure what he was asking, what he wanted from me.

What I wanted from him.

“Knock, knock!” Xander stuck his head out the door to the roof. “I just happened to have my ear pressed to this door. I might have overheard some things, and I have a suggestion!”

Jameson looked like he might actually throttle his brother. I glanced at Oren, who was still pointedly ignoring all three of us. I could practically hear him thinking, Not my job.

“Call her!” Xander tossed something at me. It wasn’t until I’d caught it that I realized it was his phone—and a number had already been plugged in.

“Call who?” Jameson asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Your grandmother,” Xander told me. “Like I said, I inadvertently overheard some things while my ear was casually pressed to this steel door. Kaylie Rooney’s mother is your grandmother, Avery. That’s a piece of the puzzle we’ve never had before, and that”—he nodded to the phone—“is her phone number.”

“You don’t have to call,” Jameson told me, which made about as much sense as the fact that he’d willingly stepped back from the postcards.

“Yes.” I swallowed. “I do.” My heart jumped into my throat just thinking about it, but I hit the Call button. The line rang and rang and rang, with no one picking up and no voicemail. I couldn’t bring myself to hang up, so I just let it ring, and then finally someone answered. All I got out was a hello and my name before the person who’d answered cut me off.

“I know who you are.” At first I thought the gravelly voice belonged to a man, but as the words kept coming, I realized that the speaker was a woman. “If my worthless daughter had taught you the first damn thing about this family, you wouldn’t dare have dialed my number.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting. My mom had always told me that she didn’t have a family. But still, each word her mother—my grandmother—spoke cut into me.

“If that little bitch hadn’t run, I would have put a bullet in her myself. You think I want a dime of your blood money, girl? You think you’re family? You hang up that phone. You forget my name. And if you’re lucky, I’ll make sure this family—this whole town—forgets yours.”

The sound on the other end of the line cut out. I stood there, the phone still pressed to my ear, frozen.

“You okay there, buddy?” Xander asked.

I couldn’t reply. I couldn’t say anything. You think I want a dime of your blood money, girl? You think you’re family?

I wasn’t even sure if I was breathing.

If that little bitch hadn’t run—

Jameson came up beside me. He put his hands on my shoulders. For a second, I thought he might force my eyes to his, but he didn’t. He walked me over to the edge of the roof. The very edge, close enough that Oren called out, but in response, all Jameson did was spread my arms to each side, until his and mine were both held out in a T. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Breathe.”

If that little bitch hadn’t run—

I closed my eyes. I breathed. I felt him breathing. The wind picked up. And I told them everything.





CHAPTER 72


By the time the SUV passed the gates of Hawthorne House that afternoon, I was still shaken. To my surprise, Zara met Jameson, Xander, and me in the foyer. For the first time since I’d met Tobias Hawthorne’s firstborn, she looked less than perfect. Her eyes were puffy. Stray hairs were stuck to her forehead. She was holding a folder. It was only an inch or so thick, but even that was enough to stop me in my tracks.

“That’s what was in the safe-deposit box?” Xander asked.

“Do you want an overview?” Zara replied crisply. “Or would you prefer to read it for yourself?”

“Both,” Jameson said. First, we’d take the big picture, and then we’d comb through the actual materials, looking for subtle hints, clues, anything Zara might have missed.

Where’s Grayson? The question came into my mind unbidden. Some part of me had expected him to be here, waiting. Even though he’d barely spoken to me since the interview. Even though he’d barely been able to look at me.

“Overview?” I asked Zara, forcing myself to focus.

Zara gave a slight dip of her chin—assent. “Toby had been in and out of rehab for a year or two at the time of his disappearance. He was obviously angry, though at the time I didn’t know why. From what my father was able to piece together, Toby met two other boys at rehab. They all went on a road trip together that summer. It very much appears that the boys partied—and slept—their way across the country. One young woman in particular, a waitress at a bar where the boys stopped, was quite informative when my father’s investigator tracked her down. She told the investigator exactly what Toby had been snorting, and exactly what he had said the morning after they had intercourse.”

“What did he say?” Xander asked.

Zara’s tone never wavered. “He told her that he was going to burn it all down.”

I stared at Zara for a moment, then shifted my gaze to Jameson. He’d been there when Sheffield Grayson had claimed that Toby was responsible for the fire. Even after reading the postcards and seeing the kind of guilt Toby carried, some part of me had still thought the fire was an accident, that Toby and his friends were drunk or high, and things got out of control.