Chapter 17
Makhi
Igrab Lydia before she can get to her car.
She’s yelling and twisting to get free when Vonn appears, frowning as his eyes flick from me to her.
“Is there a reason you’re manhandling the maid?”
I drag her into the house. “Byrdie caught her hiding jewelry in her room. Looks like we know who was responsible for that bit of mischief,” I add bitterly, pissed not just at the maid, but at myself as well.
Lydia hid the necklace in Byrdie’s bag, but I didn’t have to believe that Byrdie would steal when I’d never gotten the impression she was anything but a woman with a dark past she was looking to escape.
I should have asked myself what Byrdie had to gain by stealing from people who had helped her and would have continued to help her.
I didn’t use my brain, and Byrdie nearly died because of it.
That’s not happening again.
Vonn takes over before I can stop him. He’s bigger than I am, so Lydia doesn’t even try to argue or fight back.
With one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, he pulls her into Nash’s office. Nash is on his feet behind the desk, no doubt on his way to investigate all the yelling.
Vonn pushes Lydia onto one of the two leather chairs on the other side of Nash’s desk. “Talk,” he demands.
Lydia’s expression is mulish.
Vonn drops into a crouch and gets into her face. “You hurt someone I care deeply about. That means my patience is nonexistent. If I have to do painful things to get you to talk, I will do those painful things.”
If Lydia weren’t the reason that Byrdie nearly died out in the desert, I wouldn’t believe Vonn capable of torturing information out of her.
He’s not the type to put his hands on a woman.
But his feelings for Byrdie run deep enough that there are lines he would cross that he wouldn’t cross with anyone else.
The gardener put his hands on Byrdie, and Vonn never hesitated to snap his neck and bury his body in Nash’s backyard.
Fear flickers in Lydia’s gaze. She sits back in her chair. “But I’m a woman,” she says, licking her lips.
“I don’t discriminate,” Vonn says while staring unblinking into her eyes.
I almost feel sorry for her.
Hell, if that were me, I’d be spilling my guts, so it’s no surprise when she clears her throat and says, “Someone paid me, okay. She was cleaning all the rooms and taking her time, which meant I couldn’t search them. I needed to get rid of her.”
Considering Nash didn’t know what kicked off this craziness, he takes it in his stride and sits back down at his desk to ask, “My uncle?”
Lydia nods as the office door swings open and Byrdie slips inside.
Vonn frowns.
Byrdie lifts her chin and, looking stubborn, closes the door. “This involves me, and I need to know what’s going on.”
Nash points at a seat. “This might take a while.”
Doubtful.
With the way Vonn is glowering at Lydia, she’s going to spill everything she knows in record time.
But before Byrdie can sit, Vonn rises from his crouch in front of Lydia and moves the second chair away from the desk so it’s closest to the wall. He doesn’t trust Lydia anywhere near Byrdie, and neither do I.
“Here, darlin’,” Vonn says.
Byrdie crosses the room and takes a seat.
Lydia watches her until Vonn prompts Lydia, “You were telling us who paid you to hide Nash’s mom’s necklace in Byrdie’s room.”
“Byrdie?” Lydia frowns.
She didn’t know that the name Byrdie used before wasn't her real name. We’ve all been careful not to call her Byrdie while Lydia was around, but it was only a matter of time before it came out.
“Talk,” Vonn demands.
Lydia gives him a nervous look and twists her fingers together in her lap. “I needed money for my wedding, and he said he would give me twenty grand if I did a couple of things for him.”
“How could you after everything we’ve done for you?” Nance demands.
I don’t know when she slipped into the room, but from the frustrated look Nash shoots her and the fact that he doesn’t order her to leave, he must know it would be a waste of time.
“I needed the money,” Lydia says defensively. “And it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.”
We all stare at her.
Lydia glances at Byrdie’s shaved hair and then looks at the floor.
“You were saying,” I prompt.
Lydia continues, “Nash’s uncle wanted me to look for something, and I couldn’t do that if there were maids coming and going all the time.”
“You were the reason they never stayed,” Nance exclaims.
Nash has never had luck keeping maids. Some were locals, and others he hired from external agencies. They all had one thing in common: none had stuck around beyond a week.
Lydia nods. “It wasn’t hard to scare them off by telling them there was a murderer under this roof. They never wanted to stay long after that. And it meant I was free to keep searching.”
“Searching for what?” Byrdie asks.
Lydia glances at Nash, and she hesitates.
Nash pierces her with a hard stare. “With what?”
“A diary,” she says.
When Nash’s face goes blank, I ask him, “Whose diary?”
Nash shakes his head without looking away from Lydia. “What else did he pay you to do other than get rid of the maids?”
She shoots Vonn a nervous look that almost makes me forget my curiosity about the diary that Nash doesn’t seem to want to talk about.
“A couple of men came into town looking for her,” she reluctantly admits.
From the sudden tension in Vonn’s shoulder and the fear that crosses Lydia’s face, I know where this is going.
“You told them that Byrdie was here,” Nash says quietly.
“I didn’t think they would hurt her,” she blurts out.
“I just heard they were looking for a guy’s wife.
When I met Nash’s uncle, and I told him what I’d heard, he said if I couldn’t scare Jessica—Byrdie—away with stories about the murder, then I should tell the men that the woman they were looking for was here, and I should open the gate when they came looking for her. ”
“You opened the gate to strange men when you didn’t even know who they were and if they were here to hurt her,” Nash bites out.
“But I didn’t think—”
“Why hide the bracelet?” I hold up the piece of jewelry that Byrdie handed me.
Lydia flattens her lips.
Vonn stirs.
Her eyes dart to him, and she shifts to the edge of her chair away from him. “I was trying to get rid of her so I could keep looking.”
“Your little trick didn’t work before. What made you think it would work again?” Nash gives the bracelet a blank look.
I move to hand it to him, but he shakes his head at me.
“I was supposed to go to the sheriff about it,” she says.
“Whose bracelet is it?” Nash asks, sitting back in his seat.
My eyes widen. I assumed the bracelet belonged to his mom, just like the necklace had.
Lydia shrugs. “I don’t know. Your uncle said I should go to the sheriff and say I’d seen it in her room, and the sheriff would get rid of her so I could keep looking.”
“I would have gone to jail,” Byrdie says, face white.
Vonn looks like he’s fighting the urge to strangle Lydia, and he’s losing the battle.
“Talk,” Vonn barks at Lydia.
She jumps. “I couldn’t stop, okay. I said I didn’t want to do it, but I’ve done so many bad things that he could use against me. Maybe even tell my parents and Paul, who might call off the wedding.”
“Get out,” Nash snaps at her.
I jerk my head toward him. “But she’ll go right back to your—”
“I don’t care where she goes. I just want her out of my house in the next five minutes,” he says, not taking his eyes off Lydia. “Give her that bracelet, Makhi. I want it out of my house.”
I toss Lydia the bracelet, glad to get rid of it along with the woman who learned firsthand what happens when you get involved with a blackmailer: they soon turn on you.
Lydia, sensing this offer might soon run out, scrambles up out of her chair and darts to the door.
Nance follows, scowling. “I’ll make sure she leaves and takes that bracelet with her.”
Nash pushes his chair back, and I watch him curiously as he rounds his desk and sinks into a crouch in front of Byrdie.
He takes both her hands and squeezes. “I owe you an apology, Byrdie,” he says.
Her eyes widen. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes. I absolutely do.” He sighs tiredly and gives her a small smile.
“She’s been working here for a long time.
I should have known or at least suspected who put that necklace in your bag, and that my uncle would be involved.
Whoever snuck in wouldn’t have had time—or even known—where to look for it to plant it on you.
And only Lydia could have opened that front gate.
What happened led to your nearly dying, and that was on me. ”
Nash’s smile slips when she pulls her hands from his.
His surprise is palpable when she hugs him. “You don’t owe me an apology, Nash. But thanks for thinking that you do.”
He wraps his arms around her, returning her hug.
I can’t help but remember that she only came on a ride with me because she was bored. Even if she had a good time, that doesn’t mean I’m forgiven.
Nash apologized, but he’s not the one to blame for what happened to Byrdie.
That’s on me.