Page 1 of Tempted

Chapter 1

Steph

As I take a step towards my granny lying in her bed, asleep, I can’t help but notice how precious she is to me. But as I reach her, the warm smile suddenly lifts off my face. Her hair, always pristine, and not a hair out of place, is disheveled. Looking around the room, which she shares with another elderly woman, I see that the lamp on her side table has been shattered onto the floor. The afghan that she crocheted herself, normally lies proudly across the bottom of the bed, but tonight it’scrumpled into a ball in the corner of the bed. “Granny?” I call to her, but she doesn’t answer.

Granny’s hearing has been remarkably preserved over the years. The woman can hear a snail crawl. Granted, my visit isn’t planned, this woman would have heard my footsteps, as I approach. “Granny?” I call again, but it’s for naught. My beloved grandmother lies haphazardly on her bed, with her arms outstretched, like she put up a fight until the end. Her white silk pillow has grimy fingerprints on it from her assailant. Her mouth is wide open, as are her eyes, which I have the grace to gently force closed as I grasp my phone from my purse, and make the call I always dreaded, but knew that one day it would come. Whether it was made by me or by my cousin Moira, it was a roll of the dice.

Moira and I are the only two of the family that are here in North Carolina. All the rest are still in Scotland, our homeland. Moira brought granny out here years ago when she and I moved here, so that she could pursue her medical license, and to escape the hell that we both left at home. Her side of the family more so than mine, however, none of them remain innocent. The call to the authorities is quick, and I know that they will be in no rush to come after an eighty-five-year-old woman in a nursing home, regardless of whether I indicated that she was possibly asphyxiated. But the evidence is clear. I quickly pull the pillowcase off the pillow, grab the fresh bag from the garbage and tuck it inside, while searching for a replacement pillowcase in the linen closet outside the door.

If I know who did this, and I think I do, the soiled pillowcase will be a bargaining chip for Moira. I’ll risk a charge of tampering with evidence if it means sparing my cousin from a lifetime of hurt. Moira has been through enough already, possibly at the expense of her new love, Declan, and I’ll not have it. Not one bit of it. She deserves better. And if I know Declan and his family,for which I’ve grown accustomed to as of late, they’ll pull out all the stops to get to the bottom of this. I’d bet my life that this is related to Moira’s da, my uncle, rotting in jail.

By the unfinished cup of tea on the side table, I’d say that her roommate isn’t far away, or they finished her off first. There are no other signs of a struggle, not on her bed, not on the floor, and just as I’m about to check behind the curtain to the small living room area, I hear her voice down the hall. “Stephanie! Oh, Stephanie! Thank God you’re here!” Gretchen calls, accompanied by a man dressed in uniform, with the block words sewn into his left breast pocket that say, ‘SECURITY’. God love her. She went and nabbed a security guard to look after a murder case. Poor, arthritic old woman doesn’t know any better.

“Did you see the man that did this?” I ask, giving her a hug.

“He was Scottish. That I know for sure. Red hair, curls, eyes green and wild with anger.” She says, pulling back, only staying in the embrace for a breath. Clearly the woman is not rattled at all by this, being that Gretchen comes from Germany, and would have likely given the assailant a run for his money. Twenty bucks says that she went after him with her purse first.

“Was he with anyone?”

She shakes her head no. “No, just him. I thought he might be a family member, but when he had her pillow over her face, I thought maybe not.” The way that she says it, it’s like she’s confused, like she’s on the case.

“Did he hurt you?”

Proudly, she places a hand on her waist and puffs her chest out. “I may be an old lady, but I can defend myself. Curtis here was just on his break, otherwise he would have nabbed him before he got to poor Leery.”

Curtis stands there, still chewing on the half-eaten donut he’s holding, and I have half a mind to go get him fired for his nonchalance, if it weren’t for fear of upsetting Gretchen, wholooks rather fond of him, despite his incompetence. This boy is just covering for a vacation, because if Edgar, the regular security guard, was here, this would never have happened. Guests are supposed to be announced prior to their arrival, even if they’re family. Clearly, Curtis wasn’t paying attention. Security here isn’t the best, however, the care that residents receive is impeccable. This was the paramount reason why Moira and I chose the establishment, thinking that nobody would ever come after granny, nor would they know the alias that we have her booked in here under. Obviously, it’s been discovered.

“Good. I’m glad.” I tell her. “I’ve got to call Moira.”

Curtis finishes his donut, still looking bored. I call my cousin, using two words that I thought I would never use. “Granny’s dead.” in my quick conversation. Although I hear the crack in her voice, I ignore it, so that I won’t hear my own as well.

“I’ll be right there.” Moira says, nearly breathlessly, and hangs up.

Malcolm peers at Moira, almost wincing, trying to piece it together. “So, Callum, is your brother.”

“Yes.” Moira nods, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Declan interjects. “We had a heated conversation with him earlier. He was...very upset to say the least.”

“What did he have to say?” Malcolm asks. His gaze comes back to me, and I try to find it in my heart to smile, despite the tragic circumstances. The last couple of weeks, ever since we workedtogether to bring Declan and Moira together in secret, we’ve formed somewhat of a friendship. I think that both of us would like to consider it more than friendship, but neither of us has acknowledged anything beyond a platonic...acquaintance.

“He said enough.” Declan iterates.

Maverick, Declan’s brother, and Malcolm’s cousin, draws in a deep breath and releases it.

Caleb, Declan and Maverick’s brother, and my cousin, enter the room. We’re sitting in the Harris Investments building, where it would be easiest for us to convene. “Whoa. Who died?” He asks with a soft chuckle. He looks around, seeing both mine and Moira’s faces, and grimaces, pulling the sides of his mouth downward, eyes bulging. “Shit. Sorry.”

Malcolm brings him up to speed, leaving out the part where the authorities dragged me and Moira’s granny’s body to the morgue, ignoring the fact that we believe she was murdered. After I briefly review what I found at the scene, feeling like I should write it on a sandwich board, since this is the fifth time and counting, that I’ve had to explain, he sits down. “So, what. He wanted to get in touch with Moira, and he did. Now what do you figure he wants?”

“Blood.” Moira states, her voice firmer than I expect. “He can’t accept the fact that our father is a fraud, and I won’t bail him out of prison.”

“So, he has to use his own money, see.” Declan illustrates. “James McTavish tried to pull a fast one over on Moira, but he lost the battle, since Moira is far too smart.”

“And your investigators are top notch.” Moira adds modestly.

“Nonsense.” Declan waves. “You had it figured out within seconds of seeing him behind the Plexiglass.”

Caleb changes the subject. “And you think it was your brother? But I don’t get it. Leery was his granny, too, right?”

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