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I can’t help but exhale sharply, pressure gathering in the pit of my stomach as I recall that entire moment. “She said she wanted to bury the hatchet. She said that she didn’t hold a grudge against us for doing her dirty, quote-end-quote. That the past should stay in the past and that she understands what she did was wrong.”
“Let me guess, she’s repented,” Luke half-smiles and takes a long sip of his coffee.
“Pretty much. I am not buying anything until I find out what she’ll be doing in and around Hershey, of course. But in Charlene’s defense, she never reached out to any of us while she was in prison. And according to her parole officer, not a single call was made from the prison switchboard to any of our parents’ known phone numbers. Maybe she will just keep a low profileand leave us alone.”
“That’s wishful thinking,” Fallon says. “The bitch is up to something.”
“We’ll know if she is,” I assure him. “And we’ve got a big-ass security firm we didn’t have before to work on this. Charlene’s going to have the police breathing down her neck for a while, and I’m damn well going to make sure she stays put and uncomfortable until I deem it safe for us to tell Avery about her.”
I’m grasping at the illusion of control and I know it. I’d never admit it to Fallon or Luke, but I think they suspect as much. Even so, I do appreciate them for sticking by my side and agreeing to holding off on telling Avery about her. They may not trust my judgment, but at least they respect my decision. I only hope that decision won’t cause more trouble down the road.
I am so ashamed of this slice of my past, of our past. And given the delicate nature of our relationship with Avery right now, not to mention her physical condition, I don’t want anything to add unnecessary stress to her day-to-day life. She deserves peace, love, and affection. Not ghosts slithering out of prison to haunt us.
I’m not comfortable with any of it, but I don’t feel ready to tell Avery the whole truth yet. And I sure as hell am not ready for the consequences it could bring.
5
Luke
Kellan’s hesitation has me on edge. While I understand his reservations, I’m well aware that it could still have a negative impact on our relationship with Avery. I don’t like the way he’s been handling his parents, either causing Fallon to feel powerless and frustrated. I know that Kellan can push the envelope from a legal standpoint though, if only to keep Elizabeth and Bill Cassidy on their toes and as far away from us as possible.
We’ve been playing it too safe where his parents are concerned, and I reckon it’s time to pay those two a visit. Charlene’s early release was no accident and it sure as hell wasn’t a coincidence. I’m willing to bet they had a part to play in it, and the timing is more than suspicious given the last conversation that Kellan had with them. They’re pissed off and territorial, and I’ve no doubt they’re bound to try and hit us first.
If there is one thing I learned from my time in the Navy, it’s that sometimes it’s better to rattle the enemy before deciding to go to war against them—if only to gauge their immediate reaction, to get a better estimate of their resources, and to have a clear ideaof what they are truly capable of when cornered.
After settling the week’s affairs with our security company, I take a couple of hours off and drive up to Hershey.
Just a few miles north of town, the Cassidy’s have a ranch they like to stay at during the winter season. The snow stays thick out there and the ranch hands herd the cattle along the outer fences during the day, leaving Elizabeth and Bill with the house and the back gardens all to themselves. They built a lovely little gazebo by the pond and fitted it with thermo-insulated glass panels so they could sit out there comfortably while staying at the ranch in the winter months. It offers a splendid view of the entire property—a property once owned by their Aunt Helen and Uncle Maurice. I never forgot the dirty games that were played in order for the Cassidy’s to get their hands on the land, and neither has Helen. Someday, she will get it all back. I’ll make sure of it.
But until then, I put on my nicest smile and drive through the wide open front gates, moving at a low speed to better analyze my surroundings. Just as expected, the ranch hands are busy herding cattle—mere dots on the wavy eastern horizon. The dogs are loose, but they’re friendly. It’s only after dark, when the gates close, that they become veritable and fearsome guardians.
The house appears modest from afar. A sprawling single level construction with a low-ceiling and oak wood paneling that sports generous windows and an even more generous patio. I remember Helen telling me about how she and Maurice built the whole thing from the ground up—the two of them and a couple of builders from Hershey, to be specific. A lot of love and labor went into this place, and it irks me to see it befouled by her sister and brother-in-law, two of the county’s least liked people.
Slowly, I get out of my car and make my way up to the front steps, well aware that the Cassidy’s are watching me from behind one of the dainty lace curtains. I can feel their eyes on me. Hell, I can almost feel their hatred burning right into my skin upon reaching the front door. I don’t even have to knock.
Elizabeth cracks open the door, a sour look on her face. “Luke Hayden!” she exclaims. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Cassidy,” I reply with a broad smile. “Can I come in?”
“What for?”
“I just wanted to have a chat with you and Mr. Cassidy, if that’s alright,” I explain, keeping a friendly tone to my voice despite the nausea unfurling in the back of my throat. It still boggles my mind that two great men like Kellan and Fallon came from this wretched couple. The apples couldn’t have fallen farther from this gnarly old tree. “I think you’ll both want to hear what I have to say.”
“Where are my sons?” Bill cuts in, appearing behind Elizabeth with a heavy glower deeply embedded into his wrinkled, sun-burnt face. “Why are you here?”
“I thought you were the epitome of the term civilized,” I shoot back with a cold grin. “Yet I’m still standing out here in the cold.”
Bill grumbles something about unannounced guests but moves out of the way. Elizabeth lets out a tired sigh as she steps aside, motioning for me to come in. “By all means,” she says.
As soon as I’m in the open living room, I take a few seconds to study the space. It’s nice and tidy, with plaid patterns and expensive wood furniture, plenty of throw pillows and rare artprints scattered across the walls. Most of the décor isn’t theirs, though. I recognize some of the objects that Helen told me about—decorative pieces that Maurice brought back from his trips to the Caribbean. A couple of ebony idols, bronze statuettes, and about a dozen ivory miniatures of Yoruba deities she’s still thinking about and wishing she could get them back.
“Alright, you’re inside,” Bill snaps. “What do you want, Mr. Hayden?”
“I’m sure you know by now that Charlene Maddox is out of prison,” I begin, turning around to face them. For a brief moment I imagine them as a seemingly harmless couple of well-to-do pensioners that they’re trying to portray. The loose jeans and Angora sweaters do a decent job, but the predatory looks in their eyes remind me of wolves ready to attack their prey. Only I’m not the prey; I’m the fucking hunter ready to take them both out if I have to. “Seeing as she was a close friend and business partner of yours, I wanted to make sure that you’re aware of the repercussions, should you try any of your old plays again.”
Elizabeth and Bill exchange nervous glances, but the old man lets loose a crude cackle as he defiantly crosses his arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says. “Is that why you’re here, boy? To threaten us?”
“I don’t do threats, Mr. Cassidy. I’m simply warning you that it’s only a matter of time before the authorities come down upon you with the full strength of the law. When that happens, you’ll want to have as few verifiable criminal associations as possible.”
