Page 136 of This Life of Mine

My grip tightens around the phone.

Through the speaker, Elinor sighs dramatically. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, David. I don’t pay the bills. Just call Blake and have him figure it out.”

“I don’t trust Blake right now. He acts strange when I question him about the transactions.”

“David…I’m sure you’re just overthinking it. Blake is always busy. Right now, I need us to focus on Cole. He’s sitting in jail because of Lina!”

“I’ll handle it, Elinor,” David says, annoyed by her tone.

“You must focus on family, David,” Elinor says. “Your son needs you. Cassie needs you. Whatever is going on with those accounts can wait.”

For several seconds, David says nothing.

For weeks, I’d assumed David was part of whatever this operation was. The bank records suggested otherwise. This confirms it. David isn’t covering tracks. He’s following them.

A muscle jumps in my jaw.

“Call the lawyers. Do something! Our poor son is rotting in a filthy jail, and you aren’t doing anything about it.”

“I’ll handle Cole! But I’m not dropping this!” The volume rises with each sentence.

A loud bang echoes through the speaker. Something hitting a desk. Or a wall.

“Do you understand me?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, David. You’re going to give yourself a stroke. Make sure you take your meds before you do.”

“I’ll take my fucking meds later,Elinor. Right now, I’d like you to leave my goddamn office,“ he says with venom.

Moments later, the sharp click of heels echoes through the house.

Neither Reese nor I speak.

David Allister sounds like a man who just discovered something he was never supposed to find.

That sends another wave of unease through me. A guilty person usually gets defensive. Elinor didn’t sound defensive. She seemed annoyed by the topic. Her attention seems to be set on Cole. Either she’s innocent, or she’s so comfortable with the lie that she doesn’t believe she’ll ever be caught. Neither possibility makes me feel better.

Suddenly another loud crash explodes through the audio feed. The sound is sharp enough that I instinctively straighten.

“What was that?”

“A desk drawer.”

More noise follows. Heavy footsteps. Then a door slamming with such impact that it jostled the microphone.

“David just left the office.”

I slide into the driver’s seat and close my door. “Where’s he going?”

The sound of Reese’s keyboard resumes.

“He’s in his car.”

I start my engine. “Destination?”

“Working on it.”

The seconds feel longer now. All my instincts are screaming.