Page 8 of Corrupted Union

Who could the sounds be coming from? Stetson’s parents were divorced. No other woman lived in the house, though the housekeeper, Hannah, worked at the house full-time. The old row-style homes were built without space between them, but I didn’t think it was possible to hear the neighbors. Could it be a television?

I listened for another solid minute. The sobbing continued without interruption, and my gut told me this was real. Someone was in horrible distress, and every fiber of my being ached with the need to help.

I left the bathroom and returned to Stetson, making sure to grab him a beer from the mini fridge on my way.

“Thanks, babe.” He popped the top and continued watching the game.

“Your dad’s housekeeper isn’t a live-in, is she?”

“No, why?”

“Does she work on the weekends?” Hannah would be the most logical answer, though I couldn’t imagine the demur older woman making such sounds.

“Nope.” He finally turned to look at me. “What’s up?”

“I know this sounds strange, but I could have sworn I heard crying from upstairs.”

His brow furrowed. “Crying? Like a baby crying?”

“No, it was a woman.”

“That’s strange.” He shrugged. “There’s no one here except Dad and us. Last I saw, he was in his office, but he’s been up on the third floor a bunch lately working on some project. It could be him or even just the old pipes whining or something. You know how ancient this place is.”

I thought of Stetson’s father and internally shivered. I might have been sparring with my emotions, but that man was a machine. Could he have a woman up there? Maybe he’d had a date that had gone badly. But why would she be upstairs? None of it seemed to fit, but I felt awkward pressing Stetson about it. His father was a sensitive subject. I could understand. If Lawrence Wellington were my father, I’d have issues too.

I kept my worries to myself and nodded. “You’re probably right.” I smiled weakly, hating the helplessness that filled my veins with lead, weighing down my entire body.

You’re overreacting. You don’t even know if someone’s actually up there.

I know what I heard.

You know what youthinkyou heard.

Whose side are you on?

I made a mental promise to the wailing phantom that I wouldn’t forget her and tried to carry on with our evening.

An hour later, we sat at the dining table with Stetson’s father as we finished eating dinner. I’d hoped Stetson and I would have dinner alone, but that wasn’t to be. Instead, the three of us sat at a table for twelve beneath a crystal chandelier and a blanket of silence.

“I’ll be back in Norfolk this week,” Mr. Wellington said, placing his napkin on the table. “I told Hannah not to worry about coming over until Thursday. I wasn’t sure what your plans were.”

He didn’t usually tell the housekeeper to stay away when he was gone, which was often. Had something happened between them, and he was giving her time away as an apology? It was a possibility.

Stetson took one more sip of wine before setting down his glass. “That works for me. I don’t think I’ll have any need of her while you’re gone.”

Lawrence Wellington nodded, his gaze shifting to me. “So, Rowan, are you still planning to graduate in December?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And then you’ll join your father’s campaign staff?”

“That’s the plan.”

“You’d do well handling the press. Not sure what Evan thinks, but a girl as pretty as you would be an asset in front of the cameras. Everyone loves a pretty face, and when you smile, they’ll forget whatever they meant to ask.”

Damn, this was awkward. I wanted to shove his chauvinism up his ass but knew he thought he was relaying a compliment, so I just smiled thinly.

“Dad, come on. Ro is way more than a pretty face,” Stetson chided. “One of these days, she’ll be the queen of New York society.”

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