From Ashes(38)
Author: Molly McAdams

Not understanding, or not caring that I was politely asking them to leave, they didn’t move a muscle. “We can finish this here or at the precinct, Miss Jameson; sit down,” Sanders said quietly as he looked over some notes and crossed something out.

“What did you mean when you said, ‘if you knew about my life’?” Green asked.

My mouth shut as I looked back at Green’s light eyes; they still held that same intensity, but his face had completely transformed. He knew. I was so stupid; why had I kept talking?

“Cassi, go sit with my parents at the breakfast bar.”

I turned to see Tyler standing there staring at the detectives.

“I wasn’t—”

“Unless you’re about to arrest her, she’s done talking to you,” he said, cutting Green off, and my jaw dropped.

“Tyler!” I hissed.

“Cass, go. In. The. Kitchen.”

The detectives stood and Sanders shook my hand. Green grabbed my hand but didn’t shake it; he just held on and stepped close, saying, “That’s my card. You need anything, ever, you call me.” He looked at my eye for a long moment, then turned his attention to Tyler and glared at him. I could actually feel the anger coming off him in waves and it took me a moment to realize I had a freaking black eye.

Thinking about the shiner, how I must have looked like death after not sleeping at all last night and the emotional drain from the week with Isabella, I stifled a string of expletives that would have made a sailor proud and curled my hand into his, around the card in his palm. I wanted to explain that it wasn’t what it looked like, but then I realized that was probably what everyone said. I know it’s what I said to every person who wasn’t Tyler growing up.

That weird sense that I somehow knew this man came back when Green looked at me again. I nodded slightly and a soft grin crossed his face before he released my hand. I hurried past Tyler, who was now openly glaring at Green, and walked into the hall a few feet before tiptoeing back toward the den in time to hear Sanders ask Tyler if there was something he thought the detectives needed to know.

“I get it, you think she should be devastated that her childhood home and her parents are gone. It’s suspicious that she’s not, but she’s Cassi, so she’s not going to tell you what happened, and I know her not saying anything will only make her look even more suspicious and possibly get her in trouble later. Also, understand that I’m the only person Cassi has ever willingly told. I’ve told one other person and that person wasn’t either of my parents. So this isn’t something that she’s okay with being spread around; my parents don’t even know and as you can see she grew up a house away and we’re best friends.”

“Are you going to get to it, or are you going to make it sound even worse for her?” I recognized Sanders’s voice and was wondering why they went back to having him talk.

“Cassidy was beat by her mom and Jeff every day from when she was seven until I took her with me to Texas a month before she turned eighteen. And before you go judging me, because, swear to you, the guy I told hasn’t let it go for the two years since I told him, I wanted to tell someone, I wanted to get her away from them. But she said she’d run away before they put her in foster care, and I couldn’t take care of her if that happened.”

I pressed my fist to my mouth to quiet my heavy breathing. Damn it, Tyler! This isn’t something you just share. It happened to me, and I’d only told him; he’d told three people now!

“So like she said, and yes, I was listening to your conversation, she’s not sad to see them go, but swear to God that girl couldn’t kill a spider. She wasn’t lying about not being violent; she hates violence. I already know you saw her face, and before you go looking at me again like you think I did it, I’ll tell you what happened. We were at a party and a fight broke out between a bunch of guys; Cassi wasn’t even in the room when it started but must have heard it and was so upset by seeing it she tried to stop it and ended up getting hit instead.”

My breath came out ragged as he finished; why hadn’t he mentioned that it had been because of Gage? Tyler wanted us apart so much, you’d think he’d have just been dying to make it seem worse than it was and say I was in an abusive relationship.

“And as for her mom and Jeff? She hasn’t talked to them, and doesn’t talk about them. That girl in there has had a shit life, and that shit life was just thrown back at her after two years of trying to forget about it. I get you’re detectives and this is what you do, but taking care of her is what I do. So if you want to interrogate someone, interrogate me. Not her. Please, not her.” He had started off with an authoritative voice I’d expected the detectives to put an end to immediately, but when he finished, Tyler’s voice was so tortured, it nearly broke my heart.

“Are you done, son?” Sanders asked after another moment.

“Yeah.”

“Then sit down and tell me, do you or your parents know of anyone who would want to harm Mr. Jeff Kross and his wife?”

“No, like Cassi, I haven’t seen or spoken to them . . .”

His voice trailed away to nothing as I went to the living room to lie down on the couch. I should have joined his parents, but at this point, I was so drained I didn’t think I could even attempt to hold another conversation. I knew they were itching to find out what happened to my eye, but it would have to wait.

IN THE LAST week, I’d had two more visits from Detectives Sanders and Green within two days of the first: the first to confirm the fire was indeed an accident caused by a candle near the bar—that visit included an apology for the pseudo-interrogation—the second to let me know they wouldn’t be bothering me anymore. After examining dental records, the bodies found in the house were of one Jeff Kross and one Karen Jameson Kross. Both times I tried not to study Green, but each time I saw him I’d swear I knew him. We’d had a graveside funeral on Friday and Tyler had gone back to Texas on Sunday, three days ago, since he had finals that week. I still hadn’t spoken to Gage, but I couldn’t force myself to do it yet.

I had too much going through my mind still: my life with Mom and Jeff, the fierce look in Gage’s eye when he turned around to swing again, and most of all the way he looked like he was dying inside every time he looked at me after he’d hit me. Then I’d left him with a note that could have meant any number of things, and I’m sure that had only made it worse. I knew I couldn’t have our first conversation over the phone; it needed to be in person. I just wasn’t ready for that yet. If I was honest with myself, I was terrified that what had happened last Friday night would change how we were permanently. I didn’t want him to treat me any differently, and I was afraid he’d treat me like I was breakable now.

“Miss Jameson? You can go back now.”

Glancing up at the receptionist of my mom’s attorney, I gave her a small smile and walked down the hall to the open door.

A lanky older gentleman stood up and grasped my hand from across his large desk. “Miss Jameson, thank you so much for coming in. I’m sorry that we’re meeting under these circumstances though.”

I simply nodded and offered him the same smile I’d just given his pixie of a receptionist.

“Well, this will be fairly quick, since you’re the only living person mentioned in your mother’s will.”

That surprised me, but I didn’t let it show. I figured she’d leave me out of it and give everything to Jeff, or hell, even her liquor. She was a bitch like that; it wouldn’t have shocked me.

“Though he is not here, we will begin with the only other person mentioned: ‘To Mr. Jeff Kross, I leave my car, home, and everything inside them. To Miss Cassidy Jameson, I leave the money in the following accounts.’ ” Mr. Buckner produced a few pieces of paper stating the bank accounts, not that they meant anything; they were just routing and account numbers. “And she also left this letter for you. Your mother came in about six months ago, Miss Jameson, to change her will and leave that letter. I was surprised, seeing as she hadn’t changed her will even after your father passed, but I don’t think she was expecting you to have to be sitting on the other side of my desk so soon. Your mother and father were good people, Miss Jameson; I’m very sorry for the losses you’ve had over the years.”

I took the lumpy envelope from him. “Me too,” I whispered, unable to force anything louder. I was still in shock that Mom had waited that long to change her will, and then died so suddenly after.

“If you’ll give me just a few minutes, we’ll get everything squared away here so you won’t have to go in to the bank to change everything over, and then we’ll be done. I’ve already called and they’re expecting my call again.”

“Thank you, Mr. Buckner.”

After another twenty minutes and both of us speaking with a manager at the bank, he handed me a few pieces of paper that were faxed over from the bank, giving me the number of the new savings account I’d had everything put into and pages about how best to handle money. I folded them all up and put them in my purse along with the letter, shook Mr. Buckner’s hand, and went to Tyler’s mom’s car, which she was letting me borrow. I drove until I found my favorite coffee shop and pulled into the parking lot. Without shutting off the car, I reached into my purse, opened the folded-up papers, and finally looked at the amount that had been deposited into the savings account. My mouth dropped open and a loud gasp filled the car. What. The. Hell?

I’d been fully expecting my mom to not have me in the will at all. When Mr. Buckner said I was getting her money, I thought it was a joke and she wouldn’t actually have any. No way did I expect her to have this much, or to leave it to me! Mouth still wide open, I grabbed the letter and broke the seal, and my breath caught at what I saw. My father’s ring, the one I’d clung to when he died and my mom had taken from me. I pulled it out of the envelope like it might break and just stared at it as memories of my dad came rushing back and tears instantly blurred my vision. I took deep breaths, slid the ring onto my thumb, and grabbed the letter. Unfolding it carefully, I took one last deep breath and looked down.

My dear Cassidy Ann—

Where do I even begin? There aren’t words to begin to describe how sorry I am for ruining your life. Nor are there words to tell you how much I hate myself for what I’ve done to you, as well as let Jeff do to you. You are so precious, and I don’t know how I ever let myself get so lost that I could forget that. Your father was my world. When he died, I didn’t know how to go on, so I didn’t. I was so weak, and neglected you . . . you were only a child! What’s worse is I can’t even remember you during that time, which means I can’t remember what you had to do to keep yourself alive during those times. I was being selfish and focusing on my hurt, trying to find any way to make it go away. My friends helped keep me intoxicated since they didn’t know I was already in that state at home, so I paid attention to them . . . but you? Where was I when you needed me? I don’t even know where you were. What kind of mother doesn’t know where her little girl is when she needs her the most? All I do remember is looking at you at the funeral and thinking about all the time your father spent with you; he was such an amazing dad, and I just knew I would never be able to look at you again without seeing him. And he was gone. So I did the only logical thing that came to mind at the time: I stopped seeing you.