51. Zee
“Ihope you know I meant you no ill will, Zee.”
Halfway down the corridor toward the kitchen on this interminable day, I pause outside the solarium that’s Lindsay’s territory.
The last thing I want is a showdown.
It took a while for Harriet to let Trever approach her for his first feed so we only went to bed after a rushed shower an hour ago. The call of nature woke me up, and then I got hungry.
This is what happens when I listen to my stomach at 5AM instead of simply grazing on the multitude of snacks in my nightstand drawer.
Popping my head through the doorway, I ask, “I’m sorry, Lindsay, did you say something?”
I know exactly what she said, but awkward.
Especially as I’m wearing one of Colt’s T-shirts.
It’s not like I announced to the house that I’m sleeping in Colt’s room, but my pajamas, or lack thereof, might give it away.
In fact, I can feel her eyes scanning me as I hover in the doorway. She doesn’t comment on his tee though, just repeats, “I never meant to be rude.”
“No, of course not,” I mutter, more embarrassed than before.
To be honest, whether she did or didn’t, I wasn’t affected. She pissed Colt off. Not me.
“I mean it. Any of the boys will tell you that I’ve never been good at letting people in. You don’t after being married to a man like Clyde.” Her lips purse. “But now that I know you’re sticking around, I’ll be sure to make more of an effort.”
“I appreciate that, Lindsay. I’ll?—”
She doesn’t give me the chance to escape. “Ida called Terry while you two were dealing with Harriet.”
Curious, I step deeper into the room. “The sergeant? What did he have to say?”
“Clyde’s fingerprints were found in your brothers’ truck.”
“Really?”
“Which corroborates your grandmother’s statement.” Smug satisfaction leaches into her voice as she continues, “He also said Colt broke Clyde’s nose and his orbital bone.”
“What made Terry share any of this with Ida?”
“They’ve often conferred on cases for Dove Bay. It helped that Clyde wanted to call Colton and he refused to answer.”
“I didn’t know that.”
She hums. “I didn’t either. It appears Colt’s washed his hands of his father.”
“You don’t sound like you approve.”
Her shoulder hitches. “Hardly. Clyde made his bed a long time ago. It seems to me that he’s dealing with the repercussions of that and he deserves to have the book thrown at him.”
“He said he didn’t kill her.”
“Who’s her?” she dismisses.
I know she’s right, but I can’t help but think something was off about that scene today.
Oh, I believe he was going to plant that letter in Colt’s office. But how he looked at me… I assumed the relationship between Mom and him was entirely transactional. Then, he said Mom’s name so my perception of that has shifted.
He genuinely thought he was talking to Mom and everything about his demeanor was different.
“The entire day’s been one revelation after another.”
I can’t argue with that.
Not when Grand-mère was as strident as ever today, totally unlike the one I saw at the Bar 9.
I can’t help but feel like something’s changed and I missed the memo.
Because I’m at a loss, I ask, “What else did the sergeant say?”
She lifts the glass of wine in her hand to her mouth and takes a deep sip. “Doug received a letter from Lydia after she passed away. It detailed the location of a journal and advised him to send it to the police if anything happened to her?—”
“The journal that Colt was questioned over!”
She nods.
“I wonder who sent the letter.”
“According to Terry, Jessica Cardinal.”
“Two women bound by their mutual hatred of the Korhonens.”
“One Korhonen, in particular,” Lindsay corrects. “Not that I can blame her. Anyway, Doug said that Lydia had been acting strangely ever since they put their house on the market. He put it down to the stress of moving, but this diary… he’d never heard about it before. He thinks she must have found it when Lydia was packing up Marcy’s room.” Lindsay stares at the arrangement of flowers she’s installed in the empty hearth since the weather grew warmer.
“I wonder if the police came across any mentions of her having a relationship with Clyde in it… They must have or surely they’d have brought Colt in for more questions.”
Her brows lift. “You knew about Marcy and Clyde?”
“I witnessed it.”
“You’ve developed a habit of being a witness, haven’t you?”
Blankly, I stare at her. “I never thought about it that way before. Tee always did say I was sneaky. I thought it was more about having the knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Or the right, considering.”
“Right?” I ask warily as I perch on the edge of the armchair opposite her.
It’s the first time I’ve ever been welcomed in here, so despite her ‘greeting,’ I’m unsure of my place.
“You see things that no one else does. It’s to your misfortune that you never had a voice before.” As I grimace at how accurate that is, she clicks her fingers. “Not anymore. You’re Colton Korhonen’s wife. People will listen.”
So, Colt looped her in about what I saw during the fire.
“Will they? They haven’t so far.”
“That’s because you’ve been living like a hermit. It’s half the reason I didn’t think you and Colt were getting along.
“Somehow, under this roof we all share, you managed to move into his bedroom with none of us knowing.”
“Not even Ida?”
“No.” She studies me. “Are you going to talk to the police about the arson in the stables?”
Uncertainly, I shift on the seat. “I wasn’t going to. I mean, if he’s behind Lydia Armstrong’s death then?—”
She tuts. “He murdered our private herd of horses, Zee. The loss of which my sons still mourn to this day. Why shouldn’t he be punished for that crime? Even if the only true punishment will come from him defrauding the insurance company.
“You’re Mrs. Colton Korhonen,” she repeats. “There are some perks to the name. If you have the strength to use them.”
“Did you?”
Lindsay wiggles her hand from side to side. “I knew how to throw my weight around in town. It was under this roof that I never found my feet.”
“I’d have thought this place held nothing but bad memories for you.”
“The advantages outweigh the memories. They might linger in the shadows whenever I turn a corner, but I can see Callan and I’ve missed so much with him that I’d have taken any opportunity to make that right.
“Then, there’s Colt. Initially, I wanted to make sure he was okay in this marriage that bastard forced upon him, but then it shifted when I knew there’d be a grandchild… I won’t miss being a grandmother.
“Now Cody’s home too, so I get to be with more of my boys and I’ve already wasted so much time with them.
“Plus, there was a delicious satisfaction in living under this roof when Clyde wasn’t welcome. It’ll be even better if he’s in jail.” She settles back in her armchair with relish. “I’ll accept the title of petty bitch. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t, actually. I was thinking if anyone deserved to be petty, it’s you.”
“We’ll need to host another BBQ with your family. This time, one he can’t ruin.” A curious light dances in her eyes when I snort. “So, will you report him to the police?”
This is why she wanted to talk to me.
Not to seal Clyde’s fate. But to seal mine—Mrs. Colton Korhonen.
No one will believe me, though.
No one.
Apart from, of course, Tee.
Who always believed me.
And her parents and brother who never cut me off.
And Colt—who accepted the truth despite years of thinking I was guilty.
Callan never thought it was me, even if his theory was founded on lies.
Cody accepted my word the first day we met.
Then there’s Lindsay. And probably Ida. The triplets too…
And Cole?
It might only be thirteen people, but it’s more than I’ve had before.
“I-I suppose there’d be no harm in making a statement.”
“The only harm would be to the man himself,” she agrees softly.
Getting to my feet, I ask, “Do the police believe he killed Marcy?”
“There’s no evidence. No body, no crime. Either way, Lydia knew there was something in that journal that was worthy enough of blackmail. Maybe the cops will pick up on that. Or, as you said, maybe they already have and that’s why they’ve left my boy alone.”
“Did Colt tell you she was sending him, us, poison pen letters?”
“No.” Her eyes narrow. “He didn’t. How strange.”
Awkwardly, I mutter, “It’s late, Lindsay. I need to get some more sleep. See you in the morning.”
Though she nods, I can tell my small addition to the conversation has left her perplexed.
I don’t blame her. None of this makes sense.
I forge a path to the kitchen as per my original plan and pour myself a glass of milk then stick a spoon in the jar of peanut butter and suck on the scoop as I make my return to Colton’s bedroom.
Our bedroom.
It will be once I can redecorate. The furniture’s old-fashioned enough that I quite like the pieces thanks to a childhood of growing up around this kind of stuff, but the walls are a dark navy that makes the space feel too hemmed-in for my tastes.
When I open the door, Colt’s sitting up in bed, reading a book.
“What are you doing awake?”
He peers at me over the book. “You were gone a while.”
“And it disturbed you?”
“I’ve grown used to you being there.” There’s a wry twist to his lips. “Trust me, it surprised me too.”
I snort as I climb into bed, somehow satisfied that his mom knows where I sleep—as if that makes it, us, official. It wasn’t that we were hiding it, but it’s not something you advertise either.
“What are you eating?”
“Peanut butter.” I wiggle the glass at him. “Milk.”
“None for me?”
“You can have some milk.”
“So kind.”
“Trust me, I know.” As he snatches the glass and takes a sip, I murmur, “I spoke with your mom.”
“What’s she doing awake?”
I ponder the scene I came across. “She looked like she was plotting.”
“Clyde was the master of his own demise. She doesn’t have to do anything.”
“She wants me to reinforce it.”
“How?” I don’t have the chance to answer. He clucks his tongue. “She wants you to tell the police about the arson?” When I nod, he studies me. “Are you going to?”
Placing the now-empty spoon on the nightstand, I murmur, “Yes.”
His hand settles on my thigh. “We can go tomorrow.”
“You don’t need to come with me. Tee will.”
It’s his turn to cluck his tongue. “Hey, that’s my job.”
“Don’t tell her. She’s already fighting with Callan for the position of my BFF,” I tease.
His smirk is so delicious that I’d eat him up if I weren’t exhausted. The day has been long and the mayhem varied. Honestly, I’d still be face down on the pillow if I hadn’t needed the bathroom.
Curling onto my side so I can look at him, I drowsily share the little I learned from his mom. That’s when I slip in, “She said you refused to take Clyde’s call.”
“That he thought I’d help him arrange for his lawyer to come to Pigeon Creek is crazy in itself.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “The asshole was putting the suspicion onto me.”
My tired brain’s slower to function than I’d like, but… “Why do you think Lydia sent you poison pen letters?”
“And you.”
“She only sent that after we got her fired.”
“I think Lydia was spraying in the wind, sourcing cash wherever she could. They were on the brink of losing everything so she had to double her odds. Even Juliette was targeted.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I don’t know for certain what Lydia had on her, but Juliette paid it.”
I gape at him. “No way.”
“Yes way.”
A hand curves around my waist and draws me against his chest. Despite the shocking news, I snuggle into him, mumbling, “Your mom knows we sleep together.”
“Do more than that.”
“You know what I mean.”
“What you’re saying is that she knows this is your bedroom now.”
Happily, I sigh. “Can I paint it?”
“Sure.”
“What about my old bedroom?”
“Convert it into an office.”
“You sure?”
“Never been more sure about anything in my whole life,” he vows, smoothing a hand along my back until I drift off.
Suddenly, tomorrow’s problems aren’t much of a burden.
Because I have a new bedroom—and it’s one I’ll be sharing with my husband.
Permanently.