Page 105 of Ashes of Saints

I’ve never looked at it that way, but now, the more I know, the homeschooling didn’t seem like a lifestyle choice. It was as if Mom was doing it for a reason.

But I don’t recall ever feeling scared of the men who visited. Or the women. I was excluded.

Why?

“Yeah, you were so shy when you arrived at college,” Chloe says. “What a sick bitch. Sorry.”

I snort sardonically. “Don’t be. She was.”

Glancing around at the penthouse, I shake my head. “I can’t keep this place. I’m going to sell it once probate is over.”

“You should probably call the cops.” Chloe blows on her coffee and takes another sip.

I thought about that. First, I want to speak to Mr. Lynch and get his advice. To make sure I’m protected. This is serious. She was...a criminal.

The buzzer sounds and I stiffen.

“Expecting someone?” Chloe asks, dropping her mug on the table and standing.

“No.”

“Want me to stay? I have to take my mom to her doctor’s appointment, but I can see if Jenny can do it.” She offers, referring to her sister.

“No, you go. Thanks for listening,” I say, wondering if it might be Parker. I’m both nervous and hoping it might be.

Chloe hugs me, grabs her bag and jacket, then waves as the elevator door closes.

Buzz.

I push the speaker button, now that I’ve worked out how the system works. “Hello?”

“Aurora, this is Diane, your mother’s friend. We met at the funeral. We need to talk.”

An icy chill runs through me. “I’m no—”

“You need to hear what I have to say,” Diane says.

I think I know what she’s about to tell me. Because I’m curious if she or any of her friends knew, or were involved, I let her up.

The elevators ping open and Diane steps out. She’s dressed elegantly in a cream skirt and matching jacket, with a rose blouse underneath. In her hand, she carries an umbrella and drops it into the holder on the floor.

“Nice to see you again, Aurora.”

“Come in. Would you like a tea or coffee?” I offer.

“A water would be fine.” She follows me into the kitchen where I pour us both a glass of water, then lead her over to the large glass dining room table.

“Please.” I indicate she should sit.

Diane looks nervous and I am too, but I need to know as much as I can, so I want her to get straight to the point. How much worse can it get?

I hope those aren’t famous last words.

“I think I know why you’re here,” I say, sipping my water.

Her eyes widen. “You do?”

I shrug. “We will find out, I guess.”

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