Page 25 of Luck of the Devil
Confirm my mother had been prescribed Zoloft
Find my grandparents’ contact information
Dig into my father’s financial information
Dig into my father’s other possible business dealings
I considered contacting Detective Monahan about my mother’s supposed prescription, but if the deputy told my father that I'd asked, he might get suspicious. Besides, I couldn’t trust that the detective would tell me the truth.
I could wait until tomorrow to call Dr. Albright’s office, but it might not be necessary. My mother had used a chain drugstore for her prescriptions for years, one where you could sign up for an online account and refill your medications. If I could figure out her login information, then I could see if she’d filled the Zoloft there.
Her username was easy—her email address—but it was the password that threw me. She’d given me her password for her online banking a few weeks ago, when she’d had trouble signing into her account. Since my father had handled all the bills, it was an entirely new process for her. He’d opened an account of his own and left the old one for her, but she’d become responsible for her own bills. I’d been buzzing pretty hard that night, though, and now I was struggling to remember the password.
One more example of how I’d let drinking screw with my life.
Of course, there was a good chance I wouldn’t have remembered even if I’d been ten days sober, but being drunk hadn’t helped.
I’d blamed stress, blamed grief … hell, I’d blamed everything to excuse my drinking and justified it by claiming it was equivalent to taking medication. But there was no more denying the dirty truth: my body was screaming for what I’d denied it.
It would have to keep right on screaming. I was a strong woman, and I could push through this, and then I’d never, ever take a drink again.
I needed to focus on breaking into my mother’s pharmacy account.
I tried the first idea that came to mind, and the screen popped up with an “Invalid Password” message.
Some websites gave you a limited number of attempts before locking you out, so I needed to be careful with my next guesses.
I closed my eyes and willed the memory to surface. It hadn’t been any of our names, which had surprised me. I’d expected her to use a combination involving Andi’s name, but it had been a plant and numbers instead of a random set of letters and characters.
After a few minutes, I was feeling worse and considered lying down for a bit, but I had work to do, and I wasn’t going to let my problem interfere with my investigation. I just needed to focus and figure out this password situation. I made a few more attempts, getting all of them wrong.
The solution was to go to her house and open her laptop. I’d taught her how to save her logins and passwords onto her browser, so I could instantly gain access—but I was impatient. There was no way Malcolm would let me go to my mother’s house on my own, so I’d have to wait for the end of his shift. And if I were honest, at the moment, the thought of going to my mother’s house and trying to sort through her laptop sounded like climbing up a hill with ten cinder blocks strapped to my back.
My phone vibrated on the desk, and I realized I hadn’t checked it since I’d called my dad. Louise had tried to call me three times while I’d been up front, and she'd just sent a text.
Harper, I’m really worried about you. You’re not home and you’re not answering your phone. Where are you?
I called her immediately. “I should have let you know I wasn’t going to be home,” I said as soon as she answered. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve got a lot on your mind,” she said. “I was just worried about you. Where’d you go?”
“I’m with my dad.” The lie fell out before I could think twice, not that I could tell her I was sitting in James Malcolm’s office at the tavern. “I guess I lost track of time. I should have been more considerate.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” she said reassuringly. “I’m just glad you’re not alone. Maybe we can get together tomorrow.”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead as a wave of pain hit and a shiver ran through my body. I was sure I was running a low-grade fever. “Actually, I’m going to be gone for a few days.”
“Oh? Where’re you going?”
I understood her surprise. She knew I didn’t have anyone else other than her and my father. Kara, my roommate in Little Rock, had stopped talking to me after she’d moved out. “I need to go see my grandparents in Jonesboro. After Andi died, my mother and my grandparents had some kind of falling out, and they weren’t in contact. I just found out my father never notified them about her death. They have no idea.”
She gasped. “Oh, my God. That’s horrible.”
“I know, which is why I think I need to go and tell them in person.”
“Yeah,” she said, sounding distracted. “Of course. I didn’t realize you had grandparents.” Then she hastily added, “I mean, of course, everyone has grandparents. I just didn’t realize they were still alive. While I can understand your dad not getting along with them—mother-in-law horror stories are a dime a dozen—I still can’t believe he didn’t tell them.”
“I know. I haven’t seen them since Andi’s funeral, so I could call or have law enforcement in Jonesboro contact them, but that just seems wrong. Besides”—my voice broke—“I feel like I need to see them.”
