Chapter Forty-Five Her

Chapter Forty-Five Her

Present Day

The news about Ben Cullen took two more days to break in public then it was everywhere. Photos of his face. Interviews with

Peter. Sympathy and sorrow for him and for his wife, who hadn’t left her bed since losing her son.

The stunned surprise that a national hero might turn out to be a doctor dud filled every comment section. The public had a

habit of becoming hostile to people who accomplished too much, as if to say no one deserve unfettered acceptance. There was

also a tendency to hate-jump—pile on and mix facts with fiction—when someone people believed in violated their trust. Either

way, Richmond deserved the venomous shredding hopefully headed his way.

From what I could tell, Ben’s death had been all over the news back when it happened. He grew up in nearby Scarsdale, so the

devastating story had a hometown boy angle. The focus quickly had shifted to become the nonstop Richmond Show because he could not resist being a self-centered

piece of shit.

I sat at the kitchen counter switching between news stories that suggested Richmond may have caved to pressure and overstated

his credentials. That was the term one article used. Over stated his credentials. Even while being unmasked as a liar the guy got the benefit of a soft headline.

Mom stared out the window. “There are a few news trucks still out there but most left.”

“I’d say life soon can get back to normal, but I have no idea what that means anymore.”

Mom turned to me. “It’s not normal because your work isn’t done yet.”

Here. We. Go.

The scent of what have you done for me lately filled the air as I readied for another round of mother-daughter battle. A lecture about all she’d sacrificed for me lingered

on the horizon, waiting to launch.

“This whole exercise was about exposing Richmond and ruining his reputation. Telling everyone what he did back then. Avenging

the dead. Revealing that Richmond killed Zach. Then killed Cooper and their parents in cold blood.” Mom waved her hand in

the air in dramatic fashion as she walked through her grievance. “I don’t care about the surgery stuff. It’s nice to see Richmond’s

professional life implode, of course, but that could cause additional problems. People could come after his money.”

Money. Always money. “At least one child died thanks to Richmond’s antics.”

“That doesn’t change the fact you’re only halfway done with your job.”

It should. Any number of factors should have stopped Mom’s slow march vendetta. Forget about any pretense of her love for me because that was a huge question mark. Common sense and decency never penetrated her hard outer shell. She was guilty of omissions and outright lies. Her story shifted when she needed the facts to fit her narrative. She dragged me into this mess, used me as bait, and expected me to go along without question or complaint.

“Richmond’s life is being dissected and analyzed. Soon that will include everything that happened on the day of the high school

shooting. Once a liar, always a liar, and all that. People will question everything about him now.” At least I hoped that

was true.

“Question?” She sounded appalled. “That’s not good enough. We need to strike while trust in him is at an all-time low.”

I wrapped my fingers around my coffee mug and squeezed. “Richmond has kids.”

“I don’t care about them.”

Not exactly a news flash. “Clearly.”

“Distraught wife searches house and finds evidence of lying husband’s murderous past.” Her face lit up and excitement thrummed off her as she reeled off the fictional headline. “This August person and the dead

kid set you up perfectly to show Richmond as a killer. Now you need to finish it off.”

Nothing had changed with her. “Dead kid?”

Mom came over and sat on the kitchen stool next to mine. “We boxed Richmond in to minimize his ability to lie or, worse, to

hire people to shut you up. The setup—that marriage—provided the means to work behind the scenes. He thought he could outsmart

you with that fake wedding stunt but only ended up signing an agreement he never intended to sign. You didn’t let him win,

my smart girl.”

Ah, yes. We’d entered the false flattery portion of this tired game. “He’s actually dead, Mom. I think we took everything.”

“I get that you couldn’t rush in and spill his sick secrets right after he died because of the potential for blowback. And it looks like you didn’t actually kill him, so being blamed would have been unfortunate.”

Every response in my head ended with throwing her out of the house, so I just sat there.

She reached over and took my hand. “Now you need to deliver the deathblow. The kid’s death gives you cover. Any wife would

lose it and tear up the house after figuring out that every line of her husband’s résumé was phony and every claim of him

being a hero was a blatant lie.”

She should at least act like she understood a kid died. “The deceased child’s name is Ben.”

“I don’t care.” She let go of my hand and slipped hers into her skirt pocket. She took out a thumb drive.

I didn’t have to ask. The proof. The undercover recording of Richmond and Cooper talking about how to get rid of the weapons

after killing their parents. Mom refused to tell me how she got the evidence, saying it was safer for me not to know. Whatever

that meant. But I’d listened to it. It was real and explosive and had wrecked my life for decades.

Mom slid the drive over to me.

I didn’t touch it.

“Finish this, Addison. Finish ruining Richmond Dougherty’s reputation once and for all.”