The Last Invitation (46)



Jessa really wanted to call Stan and ask how Darren was doing in prison. Hearing that blowhard lawyer stammer would be worth it. “I thought Darren’s daddy would make the bad stuff go away. He hates negative press.”

“There’s something out there stronger than the Bartholomew family.” The detective smiled. “Justice.”

That sounded ridiculous. The good detective’s reasoning was also wrong. Jessa knew the real answer. The one thing that could beat the powerful Bartholomews didn’t have anything to do with a courtroom or a jail. It was Retta Swain and the Sophie Foundation.





Chapter Thirty-Nine

Gabby




Gabby stared at the headline. In less than a week, Jessa had gone from an incompetent, ethical black hole—a pariah—to a hero. A guardian ad litem fighting for children everywhere, regardless of the wounds to her ego and reputation.

Total nonsense. The Jessa she knew would have sacrificed a child for a better class rank in law school. The hero bullshit . . . well, it made Gabby think about Rob and his fiancée Tami and all they’d lost. They tracked down the impossible—a group that didn’t exist.

Rob had predicted Jessa might go from being nearly ruined to overly praised. Gabby wondered what else he’d gotten right. If she’d quickly agreed Baines’s death was a suicide, would that have stopped her from being attacked?

“You’re glaring at the laptop screen.”

Gabby jumped at the sound of Liam’s voice. She hid a wince of pain from her still-healing ribs. He’d barely said a word to her in days, so she welcomed even this small greeting. “Sorry. Just reading about a woman I once knew.”

“That sounds mysterious.” He filled his coffee mug then walked over to the kitchen table where she sat.

She appreciated his effort at normalcy, at mindless conversation, but the strain between them destroyed her. She’d stayed up most of the last two nights, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling of his guest bedroom as she tried to think of a way to bridge the divide she’d accidentally slammed down between them.

“I talked with the school. Convinced them Kennedy was struggling due to her dad . . . Baines’s death. She’s attending classes via video.” He took a long sip of coffee before continuing, “I guess that’s the benefit of a shockingly expensive boarding school.”

He’d handled a responsibility she’d missed. Through all the unburdening and anger, secret sharing, and careful conversations, she’d failed to do simple mother things. “Thank you for taking care of it.”

“Kennedy was under the mistaken impression she could come home, be pissed at you, pout, and watch videos and movies all day.” Liam sounded very much like a father in that moment.

“Like any smart teen would.” Gabby couldn’t fault her daughter for having kid priorities. “In my guilt-ridden state, I might have let her.”

Liam stood there, frozen. He stared into his mug and didn’t say anything. A few seconds passed before he made a sound that came out like “well” and started walking out of the kitchen again.

She needed him to stay. Wanted him to. “Liam . . .”

He shook his head. “Not yet, Gabby. The only words I have are profane and terrible. I fear if I say them, I’ll never be able to call them back.”

Old habits like completing each other’s thoughts and diving into a conversation midthought remained. She hadn’t had to explain the hesitance in her voice because he knew. “I want you to be a part of her life.”

“I already am, and I intend to continue to be.” The firmness of his voice suggested he’d made some decisions even though he hadn’t filled her in yet. “With or without your approval.”

“Right.”

“Shit.” He blew out a long breath. “I’m not trying to be a—”

“You’re not being anything but honest, and I appreciate it. I just want us to get to a point where we can talk about what happened and why I did it.” She hadn’t strayed into babbling, but she was right on the edge. A little push and words and worries would come rushing out. “I mean, in more depth.”

“If you’re looking for forgiveness . . .”

“Well, yeah. I admit it. I want that, but I get that it might not happen.” Before he could say no way in hell or whatever he planned to shoot back to her, she switched topics. “This is for you.”

“The bid you found.” He flipped through the pages.

“Does it help explain the financial issues you’re worried about?” When he glanced up, she saw a question in his expression. “What? You can tell me. Unless you think I was in on whatever Baines was doing.”

“From the initial investigation, it looks like he took money from the company, using fake invoices, and moved it through a series of shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands.”

“To hide assets from me in the divorce?”

“No, this all happened after the divorce settlement, so I don’t think this is about you . . . or even about hiding assets from me.” He shook his head. “I’m still connecting the dots with the help of an expensive team of lawyers and forensic accountants, but it looks like Baines’s assets were secure. He wasn’t in financial trouble.”

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