“Don’t thank me yet. Car coming.”
Silas pointed with his hammer down the long, winding gravel driveway. A cloud of dust was rising. Audrey squinted. It wasn’t a sheriff’s car. It was a bright yellow Porsche Cayenne. It looked ridiculously out of place against the backdrop of dying pines and mud.
“Chad,” Audrey said, her voice dropping an octave.
“You want me to handle him?” Silas asked, hefting the hammer.
“No,” Audrey said, smoothing down her wrinkled black dress. “I need to do this. But stay close.”
The Porsche navigated the potholes aggressively, bottoming out with a sickening scrape that made Audrey smile inwardly. It skidded to a halt in front of the house. Chad hopped out. He was wearing designer sunglasses and a white linen suit that was already getting splashed with mud. He looked at the house with unmasked disgust.
“Audrey,” he called out, flashing a fake, blindingly white smile. “My God, look at you. You look like a squatter.”
“What do you want, Chad?” Audrey asked, crossing her arms. She stood on the top step of the porch, looking down at him.
“Straight to business. I like that.”
Chad walked around the front of his car.
“Look, Mom and I were talking last night. We felt bad. Seriously, it’s not right that Dad left you in this dump.”
“He left me what he wanted to leave me.”
“Sure. Sure. But come on, Audrey. You can’t live here. It’s condemned. The county is going to fine you into bankruptcy just for owning it. So we want to help.”
He pulled a folded paper out of his jacket pocket.
“Mom authorized me to make you an offer. We’ll take the property off your hands. We’re planning to bulldoze it, turn it into a tax write-off nature preserve or something. We’ll give you fifty thousand cash.”
Audrey stared at him.
“Fifty thousand?”
“It’s generous, considering the land is worthless swamp,” Chad said, checking his watch. “Sign the quitclaim deed. Take the check, and you can go back to your little apartment in the city. You can finally afford a new car.”
Audrey slowly walked down the stairs. She stopped three feet from him. She could smell his expensive cologne mixed with the scent of his fear. He was twitchy.
“Why are you really here, Chad?” she asked softly.
“I told you, we’re helping family.”
“Patricia doesn’t help family. She eats them.”
Audrey tilted her head.
“Is it because of the zoning? Or is it because she found out that the worthless land sits on top of the largest natural aquifer in the county and she’s already promised the water rights to Nestlé?”
Chad froze. His smile faltered.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Audrey didn’t know that for sure. She was bluffing based on a half-finished file she’d read last night. But Chad’s reaction confirmed it.
“I think you do,” Audrey said. “And I think you’re in a rush because you have a payment due to a man named Vargas in Las Vegas. Something about a poker debt.”
Chad’s face went pale. He took a step back.
“How? How do you know that name?”
“Dad knew everything, Chad. He watched you. He watched you siphon two hundred grand from the dealership parts department to pay off your bookie last year.”
Chad’s eyes darted to Silas, who was leaning against the porch railing, casually tossing the hammer in his hand.
“You’re lying,” Chad hissed, though his voice wavered. “You’re bluffing. You have nothing.”
“I have the house,” Audrey said. “And I’m not selling. Not for fifty thousand. Not for fifty million. Now get off my property before I call the police and tell them about the kilo of cocaine you keep in the spare-tire well of that Porsche.”
Chad’s jaw dropped. He looked at his car, then back at Audrey. That was another bluff, but a calculated one.
“You’re crazy,” he sputtered. “You’re actually insane.”
“Go,” Audrey screamed, her voice cracking like a whip.
Chad scrambled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. He jumped into the Porsche, reversed so hard he spun tires in the mud, and sped off down the driveway, fishtailing wildly. Audrey watched him go, her heart pounding in her ears. She felt lightheaded.
Silas chuckled from the porch.
“Did he really have coke in the tire?”
“I have no idea,” Audrey exhaled, her knees shaking. “But a guy like Chad, it was a safe bet.”
Silas nodded appreciatively.
“You got grit, girl. But you just poked the bear. Patricia won’t send the boy next time. She’ll come herself. Or she’ll send lawyers.”
“Let them come,” Audrey said, turning back to the rotting house. “I have money now, Silas. I need to hire a contractor. Not to fix the house. Not yet.”
“Then what for?”
“I need to secure the perimeter,” Audrey said, her mind racing with plans. “I want fences. I want cameras. And I need you to help me find a lawyer who hates Arthur Sterling.”
“I know just the guy,” Silas grinned. “Old man nearly disbarred for punching a judge, but he knows the law better than the devil himself. Lives in a trailer ten miles east.”
“Perfect,” Audrey said. “Get him.”
She walked back inside. The war had officially begun. But Audrey wasn’t just fighting for money anymore. She was fighting for her father’s legacy. She went back to the rug and opened the hatch. She needed to find the file on Patricia. Chad was just the pawn. Patricia was the queen, and taking her down would require something nuclear. She sat at the computer and searched for the folder labeled Project Black Widow. She opened the first document. It was a scan of a marriage certificate. Not Patricia and Thomas, but Patricia and a man named Julian Vain, dated six years ago. Audrey frowned. Patricia had married Thomas five years ago. She scrolled down. There was no divorce decree for Patricia and Julian.
“Oh my God,” Audrey whispered. “She’s a bigamist.”
