Page 50 of One Last Lie

“But shouldn’t he receive justice? Shouldn’t his killer—”

“He’s dead, Mary. Okay? For God’s sake, he’s fucking dead! I don’t give a shit about him! Hate me for that if you want, but I’m trying to take care of my children, and the last thing they need right now is for Johnathan’s ghost to haunt us for the rest of our lives. You know who killed him? I have no idea. Could be Elena. Could be Simon Trent. Could be whoever Simon Trent works for with his little hillbilly heroin operation. Could be anyone on the board of Ashford Capital. Could be some sick freak who mailed powder in a letter because he wanted to kill a billionaire anonymously.

“But I’m trying to keep my children safe!”

“By allowing a murderer…”

“No one is going to kill them! They’re kids! They haven’t done anything! They don’t have enemies. For God’s sake, Mary! You’re a governess, not a detective! Stop meddling! And you know what? Fuck tomorrow. I want you out of here right now. I’ll take the damned kids to school. Go to the police if you want. Drag our name through the mud again. Let the kids hate me. After all, it’s what’s best for them, right?”

The door opens before I can respond. Cecilia blanches and pushes past me. When she sees the person who entered, she gasps and flinches backward. “Richard! What are you doing here?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Richard” is in his mid-forties, and ruggedly handsome with salt and pepper hair, chiseled features and a fit build. He has gray eyes that I must admit set my own heart a-flutter. Judging by the color—or rather absence thereof—on Cecilia’s face, I suspect he has the same effect on her. I have a feeling this is the mystery man she’s been dating. I don’t feel proud of myself for this thought, but I can’t say I blame her.

He smiles up at her. “I thought I’d save you the drive.” His eyes move to me. “Who’s this?”

“This?” Cecilia looks at me and stammers. “This, uh… this… Richard, you should have called!”

“I’m Mary Wilcox,” I say. “I’m the children’s new governess.”

“Former—” Cecilia begins.

Then the door to the dining room opens, and she clams up. The kids are carrying lunch boxes and separate bags with fruit and boiled eggs. A breakfast for the road. I realize it’s late, and the children need to head to school.

“I’m Detective Richard Holloway,” Richard says, giving me a dashing smile.

He turns to the kids, and his smile fades. When I look at the children, I see naked hate on all three of their faces. Even Samuel glares at him like he wouldn’t mind watching him eaten alive by wolves.

I should escort the children out of the house and get them to school, but with a detective in the house, I have a chance to air all of my suspicions. He may be dating Cecilia, but I’m sure he’ll do his job if it’s discovered that she’s the killer. And if it can be proven that she’s not the killer, all the better.

So, I take advantage of Cecilia’s chagrin and say, “Oh, do join us in the dining room, Detective. I’ll have Paolo make you some fresh coffee.”

“The children…” Cecilia begins weakly.

“That’s very kind of you,” Richard says, not hearing Cecilia. “I would love some coffee.”

“No,” Isabella says firmly.

We all flinch in shock at that. All the adults, anyway. Samuel and Elijah don't seem surprised at all.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Isabella says.

“Isabella!” I cry, more shocked than angry.

“This asshole’s been fucking Mom since before Dad died,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want him anywhere near Dad’s house. They want to play hide the pathetic little porker, they can do it somewhere else.”

I’m genuinely too stunned to reply. This level of vulgarity would be shocking coming from a grown woman. Coming from a young girl who’s barely reached her teen years, it’s just… what the hell is happening?

“You have a foul mouth, little girl,” Richard says.

My eyes move to his, and a chill runs through me. There’s a flatness to his expression that mirrors the calm contempt in his voice. It’s not the humiliation of a man whose poor behavior has been exposed, nor is it the anger of a man whose been insulted by a bratty child. It’s the look of a predator assessing prey and deciding if it wishes to strike now or wait a while yet.

Elijah sees it too because he steps protectively in front of Isabella and says, “Go ahead and drink your coffee, Richard. Mom’s made her choice, and nothing we do is going to change it.”

It’s not exactly soothing speech, but it gives both Richard and Isabella a way out of this conflict even if it does so by throwing his mother under the bus. Unfortunately, it also gives Cecilia a way to get him out of the house. “Richard, this isn’t really a good time—”

“Oh, I insist,” I interrupt.

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