Chapter Thirty Her

Chapter Thirty Her

Present Day

Wyatt showed up at the security gate before ten the next morning. So much for the idea that paying his school bills would

buy me some distance from his simmering rage.

I took a photo off the security feed and sent it to Elias with a can we do something about him? text before ushering Wyatt into the house. A fight on the street wouldn’t work because I hated the idea of lingering outside.

Too many eyes. Too many covert opportunities to spy on me and launch a new round of threats.

Once in the house, Wyatt followed me through to the kitchen. He watched me make a latte then a second one for him.

“What do you want?” I didn’t have the patience for, or any interest in, a more tactful opening. That one would have to do.

“I needed to see you.”

The entire family excelled at unnecessary drama. “I’m concerned about your definition of need. ”

He fidgeted on the stool at the kitchen island. “I’ve heard things.”

Rumors. The town’s favorite pastime. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Mom says you agreed to pay for stuff.” He hesitated as if ex pecting me to jump in. When I didn’t, he rambled on. “For me and for Portia.”

“Your school. That’s it.” If he wanted a car or a trip to Europe he could beg his mother.

“What’s your game?”

I sighed because come on . “Wyatt, I’m going to be honest with you. I’m sick of everyone with the last name of Dougherty, so you would be wise to jump

ahead to your point.”

“Dad made it clear you were after his money, which he figured out too late to stop you.”

It wasn’t a surprise that Richmond painted himself as an innocent victim in our marriage, but that didn’t make the lie any

less annoying. “It’s possible your family—not me—has an obsession with money.”

Wyatt blew right by the comment. “I don’t get it. You worked hard to screw him financially. You fucked over my mom. Yet you’re

turning around and agreeing to pay for stuff? I doubt you feel bad about what you did, so handing out money now makes no sense.”

“I can see where you’d think that.”

“Do you believe we’ll feel grateful and rush to support you when you’re arrested? Because we won’t. So what do you expect

to get out of this?”

Quid pro quo . A lesson Wyatt learned directly from Richmond. Every act, no matter how seemingly benevolent, came with a price tag. Life

amounted to a back-and-forth lobbying for a superior position. Nothing, including parental love, was unconditional in this

family.

I understood because I’d grown up that way, too. But I recognized the game. Wyatt still didn’t.

“There’s no agenda here. I’m trying to work my way through what happens now that your dad is dead.” The desperate need to cash out and run grew stronger every single day.

“You’re not who he said you were... unless you killed him. Mom thinks you did.” Wyatt’s head dropped and he ran his fingers

through his hair. “I can’t stand not knowing.”

Wyatt looked every inch of an emotionally embattled son locked in a mire of confusion and despair. Richmond never suffered

from a guilty conscience. Maybe Wyatt wasn’t that lucky.

Killer. Victim. I couldn’t tell where he fell.

“Dad was so pissed off. He convinced me to...” Wyatt shook his head as his hand clamped down on the coffee mug in front

of him.

Oh... “To what?”

Wyatt continued to shake his head. “Never mind.”

Not likely to happen . Not when he was so close to cracking and telling me what he knew. The truth clawed at him. I could see the words trying

to punch their way out.

“What did your father tell you to do to me?” It was a guess. An educated one, but I couldn’t see the full picture without

more of a hint.

Richmond had messed up this kid. Told him too much about some things and lied about others until Wyatt’s common sense got

choked out in his dad’s stranglehold. Freeing Wyatt from Richmond’s suffocating shadow wasn’t my job but watching the kid

bounce from angry to confused to lost in the span of a minute proved difficult.

Wyatt wasn’t Richmond. My life would have been easier if I could have drawn the parallel and written both father and son off as mirror gene pool disasters. But Wyatt lacked the obvious killer instinct and drive. The mix of bloodlust and greed that shaped so many of Richmond’s actions didn’t seem to have passed to the son.

“I didn’t have a choice.” Wyatt whispered the comment without giving away more.

Fucking Richmond. “Wyatt, I can’t help you unless I know what you’re talking about and, believe it or not, I do want to help.”

The knock at the back door made us both jump. Elias walked in, seemingly oblivious to the starkness of the mood and the blunting

impact of his intrusion.

“The gate was open.” Elias stared at Wyatt. “I guess you didn’t close it on the way in.”

Interesting. Wyatt might be more like his old man than I thought. Was this some new ploy? Get into the house, lure me into

a false sense of security, then mess with the security system. The kid’s sad face and haunted eyes may have tricked me, making

me think whatever gibberish fell out of his mouth sounded genuine.

Elias didn’t wait for a response. “I need to talk with your stepmom.”

“Oh.” Wyatt slipped off the stool. “Right.”

The conversation ended on an unsatisfactory note. “We didn’t finish our talk.”

He made it to the back door without making eye contact. “Forget I came.”

Then he was gone. I opened the security app and confirmed he got into his car and headed for the front gate.

“Did you invite him over? Actually, forget that.” Elias put Wyatt’s abandoned mug in the sink. “Detective Sessions needs to see us.”

My world tilted. “I thought you refused a meeting.”

“He made it clear we don’t have a choice this time.”