Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
The thirty-something guy with the goatee shrugs. “I don’t know the exact cause.” He drones on about heart fitness, medication, cholesterol, and other shit that didn’t apply to my father. “Or a shock. Did something happen today?”
It did. His investments. His life savings.
Fucking Barclay Reed and his “honest” daughter, Bethany Banks.
This is her doing, and if I have to crawl to the ends of the earth, spend every minute and every last dime, they will pay.
CHAPTER ONE
December 26 (Six months later)
Los Angeles
“You’re welcome.”
I know the self-satisfied voice on the other end of my cell phone, but I’m confused about his greeting. “Ash?”
“Yep.”
We met in the oil fields of North Dakota a few years ago. The back-breaking work and the unrelenting winters weren’t for him. After a couple of years, he succumbed to wanderlust and left, but we’ve remained tight. If I have a best friend, it’s Asher Grant.
His tone tells me he can’t wait for me to ask. “Okay, what am I thanking you for?”
“A gift. Granted it’s a day late—how was your Christmas, by the way?—but I’m calling to give you one hell of a present.”
Honestly, Christmas was rough. I did my best to keep it as jovial as possible, but it was our first season without Dad. Bret barely spoke, even to a gorgeous girl who stopped by and offered her condolences in whatever form of comfort he wanted. He’s got one semester of college left…if he finishes. I’ve counseled him—coaxed, cajoled, and threatened, too. Bret seems to be majoring in booze, not so much economics. It would have crushed Dad to see my middle brother throw away his chance to be the first in the family to graduate. The youngest, Bryson, seems hyper-determined to act as if he’s not grieving at all. He helped me decorate and cook. He ran from one party to another. Friends, music, revelry, and good times. I know Bry, now eighteen, wanted it to be like every other Christmas. It’s simply not. And it never will be again.
“It was about as expected. Yours?” I ask.
“Tough without your dad, I’m sure. Sorry, man. My Christmas was fine. Great actually. I’m in Maui.”
“Vacation?”
“Nah. I moved here about three weeks ago. I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“I guess that explains why the card I mailed to Colorado came back to me,” I say wryly.
“Yeah, the weather got too cold. You know I hate that. So when I was flipping through channels one night and I saw a show about house hunting in Hawaii, I thought…hell yeah. So here I am, tending bar.”
“Like it?”
“Love it. I mean, the gig is decent, but this place has lots of pretty beaches and pretty women… What more could I ask for? But that’s not why I called. Seriously, you should thank me now.”
I’m betting Ash will say he’s found some backdoor, barely legal way to fly me to Hawaii so I can celebrate the New Year with him. I can’t do it. I hate to leave Bret and Bry now. I’m not Dad…but at the moment I’m the closest thing they’ve got. I’m also in the middle of selling our father’s business. Negotiations paused for the last few days, but I expect them to resume shortly. My brothers and I are still talking about whether to sell the house here in LA. On the one hand, we’re not sure any of us will live in it since I’m planning to go back to North Dakota this spring, and both of my brothers are away at college now. On the other hand, we all grew up here. It’s the last vestige of our tight-knit family memories, even if it feels empty without our parents.
“Dude,” I say to Ash, “if you’ve got some scheme…”
“No. You’ll appreciate this a lot more. I assume you haven’t made any headway in the Bethany Banks department?”
“None.”
Ash knows how much I want to nail that woman to a wall because, while her father is still on the hook for the crime, she’s getting off free. She had the nerve to send a flower arrangement to my father’s funeral, but she only answered my calls to inquire about his money via email. Oh, she was incredibly sorry about everything, and she was looking into the situation. That was months ago. Until recently, she maintained her facade in the office. More than once since Barclay Reed’s arrest, she’s stated publicly how innocent her boss is and how she’s sure he’ll be vindicated. I kept thinking she’d eventually be charged, too. As his right hand and the face of Reed Financial, how could she not be?
Then, nine days ago, the FBI declared they had arrested all suspects in the case. Bethany is still roaming free. The woman who looked my father in the face in May and told him that his fortune was growing isn’t complicit in this giant scam? I call bullshit.