Page 116 of Bad Seed

“Yes.”

He sighed. “I guess I’d better hang up my award for saving that kid’s life in the wreck.”

She wadded up her napkin and threw it at him. “You are such a fake. You aren’t the least bit worried about what they think of you…thank God. So, I guess that covers the updates for today.”

“Almost,” he said. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” He was trying not to run as he headed down the hall to his bedroom, got the ring from his coat pocket, and returned to his seat.

“Harley, darlin’, as brief as the time has been since I first saw you, you have become the most important person in my life. I already think of you as mine. My love. My woman. My heart. We’ve talked about marriage. We’ve picked out land for a house. We’re living together already, and I’ve never said all the right words, in the right order, all at once.”

Harley’s heart was pounding. She was so locked into the dark eyes staring into her soul that she couldn’t breathe. She felt it coming. Thought she knew what he was going to say, and even when she finally heard them, realized she’d been waiting for them all of her life.

“Harley Jo…my Sunshine…” He opened the box and removed a white-gold, two-carat, round-cut diamondring. “I pledge everything I am and will be to you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes,” she said, and her hand was trembling as he slipped the ring on her finger. “Oh, Brendan, it’s beautiful!”

“Just like you,” he said, then cupped the back of her neck and leaned forward until he felt her mouth beneath his lips and kissed her.

***

Larry Beaumont was handcuffed and shackled and on his way to a visitation room for a conference with his lawyer. He knew he was going to prison. There was no way to deny what he’d done. The surprise was that he’d never seen it coming. Maybe because he’d been so wrapped up in Justine’s misbehavior that he’d missed all the clues. In hindsight, he should have been wary about the auditor, but her unassuming manner and pretty face had fooled him.

When they reached the room, the guard walked him inside, seated him at the table with his lawyer, then left the room.

“So, Mr. Manheim, I assume you have updates, or you wouldn’t be here,” Larry said.

“I do, but I’m afraid they’re personal, rather than legal.”

Larry’s stomach knotted. “Well, hell. Then just get it said.”

“The official word on your ex-wife’s death is that she was murdered. Your daughter, Justine, gave herself away after she had a meltdown about your wife’s lapsed life insurance policy. She is, at the present time, in a holding facility for the criminally insane. I can’t say what the courts are going to do with her, but she’s been labeled as untreatable. In other words, there are no meds that will help or fix her.”

Larry felt sick. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

Manheim frowned. “Human decency? The assumption that you might want to know? Pick one.”

“Fine. So now I know. But see where I am? I can’t even help myself, and there’s no one left to bury Karen.”

Manheim sighed. “I do know that Karen Beaumont’s will is being carried out according to her wishes by her lawyer. He will see to her burial and to the sale of her house. The money will be banked. The will stated your daughter as the beneficiary, but if she was deceased or incapacitated, you would be next in line. So whatever money is recouped from her estate will be yours once you’ve served your time.”

“What am I looking at?” Larry asked.

“I’m guessing a minimum of ten years, but again, since you’ve abdicated a jury trial, the sentencing will be up to the judge.”

Larry sighed and looked down at the cuffs on his wrists. “Anything else you need to share?”

Manheim frowned. “No.”

“Then that’s all the good news I can take for one day. I think we’re done here,” Larry said.

The lawyer left. The guard took Larry back to his cell. The clank of metal to metal as the door locked behind him said it all.

***

Justine Beaumont was now residing in Vernon, Texas, at the North Texas State Hospital for the criminally insane, and for those with mental issues too severe to stand trial. She had a room with a bed and a chair and a window. And a television high on the wall with controlled content, and a tiny adjoining bathroom with a toilet, a sink, and a shower. Every aspect of her life was being monitored and controlled, including the daily meds for psychosis.

Her reality was what she needed it to be on any given day, and anything else contrary to those needs caused her to react with violence or hysteria.

Today, she’d been taken to the psychiatry wing for a “visit” with the doctor, and she’d gone to great lengths to brush her hair and clean her teeth. They’d taken away her makeup and pretty clothes, but she kept asking for them anyway. And today, she was reliving her time in the Jubilee jail, waiting for her parents to come bail her out.

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