The Last Invitation (15)
The case that nearly broke Faith. Jessa remembered. There was no way to forget, but she didn’t want to talk about it, or Faith, or anything but Darren’s outrageous behavior . . . the same behavior everyone seemed to be downplaying. “Your focus should be on putting Darren in a cell until we’re sure his family is safe.”
The detective walked away without responding.
Faith passed Detective Schone in the driveway without exchanging a word.
“Are you okay?” Faith asked Jessa.
Shaky and furious, nerve endings half on fire from adrenaline and worry about what would happen when this case really got started. With a beginning marked with police intervention and crashing cars, Jessa assumed nothing good. “Apparently, your charity is a front for some sort of underground network that smuggles abused women to safety.”
“I can barely afford a desk.” Then Faith winced. “But I’m sorry. The Young case, right? It gets brought up a lot. The press back then was pretty intense.”
Four years ago. Jessa knew the details. A guy killed his wife and child, hid the bodies, and then manufactured a story about Faith helping them run away. “Not your fault. It’s fake outrage. Darren’s attorney is trying to get the police to focus on something other than his client’s hideous and dangerous behavior.”
Jessa thought about Tim’s dire warnings about the Bartholomews burning the world down to win and wondered if she’d just gotten a taste of what that meant.
Faith looked around. “This is going to get nasty for you.”
Too late. “It already is.”
Chapter Sixteen
Gabby
Returning Kennedy to school had been the longest drive of Gabby’s life. A flurry of yelling, crying, and blaming until Kennedy finally declared she was done talking. Gabby had never been so relieved to drive in silence.
Since getting back home, nothing had gone smoothly. Not breathing, getting out of bed, or arguing with the insurance company. No longer being married to Baines and living in a world without him in it both sucked.
She’d been on the phone with more professionals—school counselors, lawyers, and people in Baines’s office—in the week since the funeral than she had during her entire divorce. She sat at her kitchen island now with the laptop in front of her, but not turned on yet, and that reporter’s card right there.
Curiosity gnawed at her until the card all but whistled for attention. He’d said something about unexplained deaths, and that’s how she viewed Baines’s death, and . . . yeah, she did not need one more problem.
“Are you asleep?”
She jumped at the sound of Liam’s voice. He always knocked before he came inside, so she assumed he had this time, too, and she’d missed it. “Just daydreaming.”
“I brought coffee.” Liam set down the travel cup and sat next to her. He glanced at the laptop, but mostly in the way anyone would and not in the being-overly-nosy way.
But none of that explained why he was here.
“It’s Tuesday,” she said, meaning he should be in the office.
“Wednesday, but you were close.” He smiled as he took a sip from his cup.
She refused to be derailed by his usual easy charm. “How bad is it?”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“The news you’re about to drop. You’re here, with your tie loosened and your hair kind of standing up on the side.”
His hand went to the wrong side of his head. “Is it?”
She fought the urge to smooth the stray strands down for him. “And you forgot a belt this morning.”
He glanced down. “Oh, shit.”
He was a business guy, born to juggling deadlines and handling messes. Life had thrown barrier after barrier in front of him, and he’d stayed calm. The only time she’d seen him break down was at his sister’s funeral. Even then, he’d cried silent tears, which were gone by the time the service ended.
His strength fueled her. She’d spent most of her life leaning on him. He was that guy. The dependable one. Handsome, protective, understanding. Having more money didn’t change who he was or how he saw the world. Except to make him more empathetic. In other words, the exact opposite of Baines.
She vowed not to be Liam’s responsibility now. Not when his employees and the business already sucked up so much of his time.
Not when they had such a confusing history.
She tried not to mother him, but . . . “Have you slept?”
“Did Baines leave any business documents here?” he asked at the same time.
“Wait . . .” She stopped in the middle of reaching for the coffee cup. “What?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “There’s just some . . . Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
She thought that might have been the lamest no big deal shrug she’d ever seen. “What is it?”
He fidgeted on the stool. Shifted until he looked ready to squirm out of his skin. “Would you believe me if I said nothing?”
“Not even a little.”
It took him a few minutes to spit out the words. “There’s a money issue.”
“Oh, that.” She picked up her cup and took a long sip, trying to fortify herself with caffeine. “I have this house. Baines referred to it as the ‘tiny bungalow in Glen Echo,’ but it was a good investment. The location right outside DC makes it worth more than it should be. I can sell and move farther out, discover the Maryland countryside, if I need to.”