Chapter 9 – Betsy
CHAPTER NINE
BETSY
Unable to sleep or focus, I head down into the basement. Switching on the lights and illuminating my home gym, I head straight for my punch bag. “Electra, play my angry workout playlist,” I speak to the system.
“Playing angry workout on your music,” it answers back.
Limp Bizkit’s Break Stuff starts. “Wilson, volume up five,” I instruct as I take my fighting stance, rolling my head on my shoulders as I begin bouncing on the balls of my feet.
I clench my fists into tight balls as the music volume increases so loud I can hear the vibrations.
I throw the first punch, slamming my right fist into the bag, followed by a high kick, then my left fist. I repeat the routine, swapping my right foot with my left, alternating them.
I keep going until my muscles ache and sweat pools down my back.
Stopping, I try to catch my breath, both of my hands grabbing hold of the punch bag as I rest my temple on it.
I lift my head and wipe away the sweat off my brow as I walk over to the little mini fridge I have set up. After grabbing myself a bottle of water, I down nearly the whole bottle.
“Electra, stop,” I order, and my music immediately cuts out.
The sound of birds singing catches my attention.
I look to the small window and see that the sun is beginning to rise.
“Shit,” I murmur. I’ve been awake all night.
Walking back upstairs, I head straight for the shower.
There is no loud music coming from next door, so I may be able to sleep for a couple of hours before I go back to researching.
Under the spray of the cool shower, I blindly grab the bottle of my shower gel and begin washing my body.
I breathe in the scent, frowning. Sniffing the bottle, I squint my eyes open and look at the bottle.
It’s mine, but it smells different. It smells masculine, with an undernote of cedar.
I shake my head. Maybe I’m going insane.
I’m tired; I’ve been working around the clock, and then Archer threw me way off balance.
I just need to crawl into my bed for a couple of hours and relax.
Stepping out of the shower, I grab the towel and wrap it around myself, leaving my dirty clothes on the floor.
I can clean those up later. My wet feet pad across the wooden floor in the hallway into my room.
Immediately, I pull down my blackout blind, surrounding the room in darkness before dropping my towel.
Opening my draw, I pull out one of my over T-shirts.
Pulling it over my head, I breathe in the scent, humming in approval.
It must be that new detergent I picked up the other day.
I crawl into bed and close my eyes. Sleep doesn’t take long to find me, and exhaustion takes over.
I slowly wake, and as I blink my eyes open, I hear people shouting outside.
Not cheering or partying but arguing. I rub at my eyes and pick up my phone to check the time.
It’s nine-thirty in the morning. I sigh.
At least I managed to get around five hours’ sleep in.
I get up and go to the bathroom, ignoring the sound of whoever it is arguing.
Probably those knobheads next door arguing over who used the last condom, knowing them.
I use the toilet and wash my hands, but as I do, the arguing gets louder.
I sigh and walk downstairs to peer through the front room window, surprised to see Archer standing toe-to-toe with Josh, the lap dog.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, storming out my front door.
“Hey!” I yell as I make my way down the steps towards them.
I turn and stand in front of Josh and press my palm on Archer’s chest, forcing him to take a step back.
His furious gaze lands on me. “Back up,” I warn him.
His eyes sweep over me, and something like appreciation flickers over them.
“I was just stopping him from knocking on your door and waking you up,” Archer snaps.
“How did you know I was still asleep?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
“Your blind was still down.” He points to the windows.
“Okay.” I turn around to Josh. “Why were you knocking? Is everything alright?”
He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just brought you some doughnuts for breakfast as a thank you for putting in a good word for me with Eden,” he says shyly.
I smirk. All I did was text Eden that Josh was good and wants to get laid.
Apparently, that was enough for her. “Why would it bother you that he was going to wake me up?” I ask, turning my attention back to Archer.
“If anything, I would imagine that would normally cause you great joy if it meant an inconvenience to me,” I point out.
He looks down at my hand, which is still pressed against his chest. I suck in a breath and quickly whip my hand away, not realising I had just left my hand there like that.
“Sorry,” I mumble awkwardly. I clear my throat and turn my attention back to Josh, holding out my hand.
“Doughnuts?” I ask, wiggling my fingers expectantly.
Josh grins and places the box of doughnuts in my hand.
I grin and nod. “Thank you. Next time, a mocha with an extra shot wouldn’t go amiss, either,” I say with a wink before turning and walking back to the house.
I stumble over one of my garden gnomes, nearly face planting the ground and getting a mouthful of grass and dirt.
“I’m okay!” I yell. “No glasses.” I let out a frantic laugh as I speed up to get inside my house to hide my embarrassment.
I slam the door shut behind me, groaning as I lean against the front door.
Slumping to the floor in a heap, I rip open the box and shove a doughnut in my mouth, eating my feelings.
After nearly making myself sick by eating four doughnuts, I shower and change into another loose band tank and short jersey shorts. As I open up my laptop, I note I’m on the eighth original member of the Savage Sisters when I notice something.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. Deeply buried in the archives is a record with original adoption papers that a member had a child. There has to be a connection somewhere. I pick up my phone and hit call on Bernie’s number.
“Hello, sweetie!” she sings, answering the phone.
“Bernie, what can you tell me about a Helen Myers?” I ask.
“Ah,” she says, pausing. “We kicked her out of the club.”
“You kicked her out of the club? And you didn’t think to say anything to me while I was hunting down information?” I point out, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration.
“She didn’t see eye to eye with Mor’s mom. We later found out that she had been sleeping with Dan behind her back,” Bernie informs me. “There were other rumours that she had slept with other members’ partners, too. Bad egg, that one.
I exhale a long and infuriating sigh. “Jesus, Bernie, if you had told me this days ago, I would have started with her. Instead, I’ve wasted four, no! Now five fucking days searching into everyone else’s backgrounds. She had a kid.”
Bernie gasps. “When?”
“I can’t tell the date on the form, but it looks like it’s been smudged out.
I suppose there is a chance it could be that Dan’s kid?
Although, that would make her fairly young,” I mutter, trying to do the math in my head.
“When did she sleep with him?” I press, although I think I can already figure out that Dan has to be the father of whoever the kid is.
“Oh, um, I remember it was early in their relationship, but she slept with so many.” She tuts.
“So, there is a chance that one of the other women’s partners could be her biological father?
A kid put up for adoption seeks their parent only to find her dead, and then maybe Helen left them information about the club?
” I say, tapping away on my laptop as I hack into the adoption agency files, searching their records.
“It’s a possibility and the only lead I’ve found until now,” I point out.
“You want me to let Mor and Eden know?” she asks.
“Only tell them I may have a lead. Leave out the details. If I can find more information, then I will come into the club and explain it all myself,” I state as my eyes flow over the files while I continue to search.
“Okay. Is everything else going alright? That boy leaving you alone?” she asks in her auntie-like warning voice.
“Pfft, yeah. He was kind of nice earlier this morning,” I tell her.
“How so?” she asks, and I explain what happened. “I knew it. The boy likes you,” she says with amusement in her voice.
“He does not, and I am an adult. Also, he is an adult, so stop referring to him as a boy,” I berate her.
“I’m in my sixties, so you are all children in my eyes. Until you’ve pissed your pants and got a grey hair, then you are children,” she rants.
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to go now,” I sigh.
“Okay, love you. Bye,” Bernie says cheerily.
I chuck my phone beside me while I keep looking.
There are thousands of names, but eventually I find Helen’s name and the date of birth.
Father’s name is absent, but of course, because if it was Dan, he would already be dead, so he wouldn’t be able to put his name.
Opening up the file, I can see the name and the name of the adoptive parents.
“Verity Moore,” I read the name of the baby, the baby that would now be twenty.
Young, but it is still possible for them to be behind the threats.
I take as much of the information as I can before looking up her adoptive parents.
All seems normal, apart from both her parents now being dead.
Jesus, this poor kid can’t catch a break.