Chapter 3 #2
Holly pointed. “Coffee is done. Toast and bacon are on the counter. Scrambled eggs are in the skillet. Help yourselves. We can talk while we eat.”
Moments later, Garrett’s mother, Trudy, came into the kitchen in yoga pants and a loose sweater.
Despite the silver in her hair, she could have passed for a woman twenty years younger than her actual seventy-one.
She wrapped her arms around her only granddaughter to hug her, then didn’t want to let go.
“Holly, darling, I’m so glad you arrived safely. Sorry I didn’t wake up in time to help you. I’m not as perky as I used to be.”
“I’m just glad you’re here, Granny. Breakfast is ready. Have a seat.”
But when they were all seated, sitting down to a meal without Helen seemed like a betrayal of their grief. They had food on their plates but were either picking at it or staring off into space, until Trudy intervened.
“My dear loves. Listen to me. Food in mouth. Chew and swallow. Even if it tastes like sawdust and sits in your stomach like a rock, the day ahead of us is going to be long. The crew will tend to the chores. We have other stuff to decide between us.”
“I don’t think I can eat, Granny,” Travis said and laid down his fork. “I should call his parents, but I don’t know what to say when I can’t believe we’ve lost Mom, too.” Tears were streaming down his face, and he was swallowing sobs between words.
Garrett took his son’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Mom’s right, Trav. Eat something, even if it’s just toast. I don’t know the propriety of sending our condolences to the Peters family when we’re in our own state of shock and grief. This is a waking nightmare.”
“We’ll send flowers and let them respond or not,” Trudy said. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”
They all managed to get a decent meal down and then helped Holly clean up afterward. By then, the first delivery of flowers arrived, and Garrett and Travis’s phones began to ring.
“I’ll deal with deliveries,” Holly said. It was tradition for friends to bring food to a family in need, and she knew it would be coming.
“I’ll go make up the beds and start some laundry. I saw the hamper was full when I arrived last night,” Trudy said and left the room.
Garrett shoved a hand through his hair. “I need to talk to Sheriff Reddick. I need to know how long the autopsy is going to take. We are at a standstill as to making any arrangements until they release her body,” he said and walked out of the kitchen.
Travis was still standing at the sink, looking out at the corral and horse stables beyond.
Holly reached for his hand. “Talk to me,” she said.
“I need to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Peters, but I don’t know how to feel. On one hand, I am crushed that Lee is the one who hit Mom head on. But who’s to blame? The police said they were both in the middle of the road. So does that mean Mom killed Lee, or Lee killed Mom?”
Holly took a deep breath. “It was a terrible accident, but there’s no blame to claim. Understand?”
“What if the Peterses don’t feel that way?” Travis said.
Garrett walked up behind his children. “Lee’s parents were at the scene of the wreck just like I was.
They heard the police just like I did. Neither driver swerved, nor hit the brakes.
They hit head on, and unless the autopsy gives us specific answers, we’ll never know why.
We hugged and cried together when they finally removed their bodies.
They already understand and expect you to be as devastated as they are. ”
Travis ducked his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Lee and I were going be roommates at A he grabbed it, smeared it with grape jelly, and wolfed it down. It was time to go pick up Mr. Wes Bradley, Esquire.
* * *
Wes Bradley went to the office early to finish up some paperwork ready to file and was waiting when he got Gunner’s text.
He left the air-conditioned comfort of his office and walked out into the bright light and building heat of a sunny Texas morning, then slid into the front seat of the detective’s car.
“Is this thing as fast as it looks?” Wes asked as he buckled up.
“Yes,” Gunner said and drove out of the parking area and back onto the bypass, heading to Stemmons Street.
“What’s the big secret, and where are we going?” Wes asked.
“I won the seven-hundred-and-eighty-million-dollar Mega Millions jackpot, and we’re going to the Dallas Claims Center to claim it.”
Wes laughed. “No, seriously dude. What’s up?”
Gunner’s focus was on the bypass traffic, and he never broke his gaze as he repeated himself.
“I won the Mega Millions jackpot. The ticket is in my wallet. I’m a cop. I want a lawyer with me for legal backup when the money gets to the bank. I’m not telling anyone else but my boss, so this is privileged information, got it?”
Wes’s shock was real. He took a deep breath and then forgot to exhale as he watched Gunner’s calm demeanor.
“Holy shit, man. This is amazing! What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Still be a cop,” Gunner said. “Just one with a whole lot of money now.”
Wes grinned. “This is amazing! Absolutely amazing! Congratulations, Gunner.”
“Pure luck of the draw. I did nothing to deserve it. I also read up on the lottery rules, and I’m taking a lump sum payment, which should come to about half the jackpot, or less.
Also, it’s likely to take four to six weeks before the payout happens.
I also need to update my will and get a financial advisor. That’s where you come in.”
Wes realized how serious Gunner was about the responsibility of having that kind of money and was somewhat surprised that a single, good-looking man like him wasn’t thinking about a little bit of a wild spending spree and seeing the world.