The Bride’s Betrayal (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #6)

Chapter One

Kindred Residence

Tupelo Pike

Rory Harris stood very still for a long time after getting out of her brother’s car.

It was a warm day. The sun was shining, and she was home for the first time in almost two years.

Two years.

Two long years. First in the Jackson County jail, and then in the Julia Tutwiler Prison for Women…for a murder she did not commit.

A collage of emotions whirled inside her like a tornado building in intensity, making her heart pound and her skin feel too cold.

All those hours…the days and weeks of cowering in fear of the other inmates.

All that time wondering if she would survive the next minute, much less the next day.

Over a hundred weeks of her life…lost to fear and uncertainty.

But now she was home. She was free. This was a huge deal. An opportunity to right a grave wrong. She should be happy.

Somehow the reality hadn’t sunk in…maybe by tomorrow.

“Well, damn, Rory.”

Rory glanced over the top of the car, where her brother, Austin Wilkins, stood on the driver’s side.

She followed his gaze toward the little white house that had belonged to their aunt.

On the front porch, the old wooden screen door stood open.

Not unusual. The thing never had stayed closed properly unless it was latched.

But it was the front door behind the rickety screen door that held her brother’s attention.

The pale pink wooden slab had words spray-painted in black on it.

You Should Die Too

Austin swore again and stamped off toward the house their aunt had left Rory.

Lulu had been their favorite aunt—their only living relative.

That she had died while Rory was in prison was just another travesty in the horror movie that was her life.

She suddenly felt sick. Sick of trying to prove her innocence.

Sick of being looked at like she was a monster.

Sick of it all.

But there was nothing she could do except keep going and hoping the truth would come out. That might be the biggest travesty of all—the helplessness.

With nothing else to do, she trudged after her brother. She had begged him to forget about her. To pretend she no longer existed. To stay away. Get on with his life.

But he refused. She was all he had, he insisted.

It was true. Only the two of them were left.

They had clung together since they were kids and their parents died in a house fire.

Lulu had raised them. She’d had a heck of a time getting custody in the beginning.

She was forty-nine with a less than sterling reputation around the little town of Scottsboro, and there had been some back-and-forth during the hearings.

Finally, the judge, a reasonable man with a broader view of things, had come to the conclusion that for all her eccentricities, Lulu was a good person who loved Rory and Austin, and that was more important than social status and her standing in a church.

“If I find out who did this,” Austin threatened as Rory reached the porch.

She put a hand on his arm. “Please don’t say or do anything to anyone. The more we fight back, the worse it will get.”

He nodded, his head hung in defeat. “I’ll go out to the shed and see if I can find some of that paint.” Before walking away, he thrust the key at her. “Go on in. Get settled. See if I did things right.”

She smiled, accepted the key. “You always do everything right.”

“So you say,” he muttered as he bounded down the steps.

Rory turned to the door, ignored the ugly painted words.

Lulu would be furious that anyone had dared to deface her precious pink door.

She had been a total pink fanatic. She had painted the door on her house a lovely pink well before anyone else would have been so bold.

Lulu always did things before anyone else had the courage.

Just another characteristic that caused folks to give her the side-eye.

Deep breath. Rory walked inside. Felt an instant relief. Home. She and Austin had lived in this house from the time Rory was five and he was three. And it looked basically the same, even more than twenty years later.

Lulu had been an aging hippie who believed flowers, peace symbols, boho style and vibrant colors could solve most anything.

Having a bit of medicinal marijuana also helped greatly, in Lulu’s opinion.

Though she had hidden her little therapeutic secret well, Rory had known.

Her mother, Lulu’s younger sister, often said that her big sister was a little crazy—but in a good way.

Not that Rory could remember a whole lot about things her mom said, but Lulu had gone to great lengths to ensure they remembered as much as possible about their parents.

She had made it as important a mission as sending them to school—maybe slightly more.

As for church, they had regularly attended the Church of Lulu.

Rory smiled, the warmth her aunt had always prompted spreading through her now. There had been no one else in the world like her. The life-crushing events of two years ago had hurt Lulu almost as much as they had Rory.

The house smelled and looked clean. Austin had really gone above and beyond to ensure all was neat and tidy.

There wasn’t even a layer of dust on the furniture, no matter that no one had lived here in nearly a year.

Rory picked up the framed photo of her and Austin and their parents.

It was taken only weeks before their parents’ deaths and the one photo left of the four of them together.

She moved around the room and studied the many photos her aunt had carefully curated.

Lots of framed photos on the walls. Lots of her aunt’s artwork as well.

Lulu, actually Tallulah—Tallulah Kindred—had been an amazing artist. Not watercolors or oil paints.

Graphite was her chosen medium, sometimes in shades of gray and black.

Others were drawn using colored pencils.

Somewhere in the house were stacks of drawing pads filled with her work.

Rory vividly remembered sitting with her on First Mondays on the downtown square and in the park on Art Sunday each fall while she drew portraits of anyone interested. Her ability had fascinated Rory.

Rory moved into the kitchen. She could really use a glass of water.

She felt as if she’d walked miles and miles through the desert.

Prison was like the desert in many ways.

There was nothing familiar to someone who had never been there before…

nothing to help you find your way or to survive.

There was all manner of danger from things you didn’t see coming or understand.

It was crowded and at the same time desolate.

Structured and at the same time chaotic.

And sad, with no hope in sight. The cries and moaning at night had been the worst.

Rory shook off the memories. She was home now…for what it was worth.

Focus, Rory. Be thankful for whatever time you have.

Austin had ensured the kitchen was ready as well.

She checked the fridge and a few of the cabinets, then smiled.

Milk, butter and cheese—even yogurt, and her brother hated yogurt, but he knew Rory liked it.

Canned and dry goods. Her most beloved cereal.

She and Lulu had always eaten Lucky Charms but rarely at breakfast—it was their late-night snack.

He’d even stocked up on her favorite soft drinks and chips.

She walked to the back door and stared out the window.

The lawn was freshly mown. Lulu’s flowers were blooming everywhere.

Rory would be picking a bouquet for the table.

The timeworn swing set still stood under that big old tree.

Its frame rusty, the seats tattered. Rory’s chest hurt with the memories of playing in this yard.

Chasing her brother. Laughing. Even after losing their parents, the two of them had somehow found a way to be happy.

To cling to Lulu as their buoy. No matter how tough times were financially more often than not, she and Austin were lucky they had someone who loved them so much.

Before moving away from the door, she noticed the new dead bolt. She wondered if there had been a break-in. She would have to remember to ask Austin about the addition.

Then she wandered to the other end of the little house and the tiny bedrooms. Lulu’s was the largest and every bit as vibrant as she was.

Rory’s was at the end of the hall. Since Austin was so little when they moved here, he’d had the one nearest Lulu.

Rory stalled at his door. His things, furniture and all, were gone now.

Instead, there was a desk with a laptop and a bookcase loaded with books.

“I thought you needed an office more than you needed a third bedroom.”

She glanced over her shoulder at her brother. She hadn’t heard him come in. “Thank you, but I wish you hadn’t gone to so much trouble.”

“It was no trouble, really.” He smiled. “The paint on the door is taken care of.” He pulled his cell from his pocket and checked the time. “Jamie Colby should be calling you in about ten minutes.”

Rory frowned. “Is the house phone still on?” Lulu had hated cell phones and any other device that connected a person to any sort of big network.

Along with her wild child persona had come just a touch of paranoia.

She had kept her old-fashioned landline forever.

She had outright refused to have cable TV installed.

Only the antenna and a single old-fashioned radio were allowed to deliver any sort of waves into her home, she’d insisted. No internet either.

“It is,” Austin told her, “but there’s a new cell phone for you in your room, and the internet is up and running.”

This was amazing. “Oh my God, you really did far too much.”

“The police never returned your laptop, and your phone was stolen,” he argued. “It was the least I could do.”