Beyond the Consequences: Book 5 of the Consequences Series (Volume 5) (16 page)

Taylor nodded to no one. “What? What’s at her house?”

“We’ll discuss it later.”

Though she knew she wouldn’t get anything more at this time, she at least knew her gut feeling had been confirmed. “All right. You tell me when you’re ready. I’m heading back.”

The line disconnected.

The concern in Phil’s voice unnerved her. She knew how he felt about the Rawlingses, and honestly, in the past few months she’d come to feel the same, especially about Nichol. The little girl was both spoiled and adorable—not what Taylor had imagined. Nichol was gracious and polite. Even though she had the world by a string, she was still excited by the simplest of things. For lack of a better assessment, Nichol didn’t act entitled. Taylor attributed her behavior more to the Vandersols and Mrs. Rawlings than to Mr. Rawlings. When it came to her father, Taylor doubted there was much of anything that Nichol couldn’t get and time would tell how that would play out.

Nichol’s interaction with the security team was also a source of enjoyment. From what Taylor had heard and been told, neither Phil nor Eric were used to the presence of children. Mrs. Rawlings joked about the learning curve of the men in Nichol’s life. Though Phil would never admit it, when Nichol took his hand and looked up at him with her big brown eyes, Taylor saw that he was putty in her little hands.

Taylor had worked temporary security with other wealthy families. The environment with the Rawlings was refreshingly familial and caring. The lack of pretentiousness, especially from Mrs. Rawlings, endeared Taylor to this family. Claire wanted Nichol to feel as if she was surrounded by family, not employees. Not every household could do that. More than once, Phil slipped and referred to them as his family. With Phil having been with them for years, Taylor understood how he could feel that way.

Taylor made her way to the back alley near the law firm, found a safe, inconspicuous parking space, and waited. Upon her arrival, there were three cars parked near the rear entrance. By 5:15 PM, it was down to one. She sent Phil a text message:

“ONLY THE BLACK CRV REMAINS. PATRICIA AND HEATHER LEFT AT 5:00 PM.”

Her phone vibrated less than a minute later.

“AMI AND JEFFERSON LEFT THROUGH THE FRONT. HE LOCKED THE DOOR AS HE LEFT.”

Taylor replied.

“WHO OWNS THE CRV? I THOUGHT IT WAS AMI’S.”

Phil.

“IT IS. SHE WALKED TO THE STORE. GIVE HER A FEW MORE MINUTES.”

It wasn’t long until Ami came through the rear entrance carrying two brown bags of groceries. Taylor started to type her text, when her phone rang.

“Get out to the Townsends’ farmhouse right away.”

“Why?” Taylor asked as she started her car.

“From the bug in Patricia’s car, I heard her talking to Ami on the phone. Ami went to the grocery store to get you a few things and she’s taking them to you right now.”

“Shit! She just got in her car. If I leave now, she’ll follow me the whole way.”

“I’ll delay her,” Phil assured. “Just get out there. I’ve disabled the alarm system. Your key will work fine. Turn on some lights. She won’t be too far behind you.”

Keeping her head low, Taylor eased her car from the parking spot. Her only choice was to drive behind Ami’s CRV. Luckily, Ami was still talking on her phone and didn’t seem to notice. Just as Taylor made it to the cross street at the end of the block, she saw Phil, in her rearview mirror, approaching Ami’s SUV. Taylor didn’t know what he was going to do, but whatever it was, she hoped it gave her more than a minute’s head start.

Ten minutes later, Taylor turned the key and opened the back door of the Townsends’ farmhouse. Linoleum floor, Formica-topped table with padded vinyl chairs, and more Formica on the counters confirmed that she’d entered their kitchen. Momentarily, she wondered if the interior decorating in Olivia was horribly behind the times or had the whole town had gone retro? Hurriedly, Taylor turned on lights. She tried to turn on the TV; however, it seemed that the cable was off; instead of sound, there was only blue screen. On the kitchen counter, nestled between turquoise blue canisters and an electric can opener, was an old clock radio with numbers that flipped instead of a digital readout.
How long had it been since they made those?
Trying for the homey effect, Taylor flipped a switch and country music filled the air. Just as Taylor settled onto a vinyl chair at the kitchen table, she heard the sound of a car coming up the gravel driveway.

Moments later the knock at the door confirmed her visitor. Taylor grinned at how Ami had come to the same door she’d just entered. It seemed real people in rural towns rarely used the front door. They also didn’t have staff to welcome their guests. Taking a deep breath, Taylor peered behind the lacy curtain and through the glass. Feigning surprise, she opened the door. “Ami! What are you doing here?”

With a large smile, the blonde office manager handed Taylor one brown paper sack. “You said you were leaving in the morning. Since your grandparents have been out of town for months, I figured there wasn’t much here. I thought you might like some coffee. I got a small creamer too.”

“Thank you,” Taylor replied. “Um, do you want to come in?”

“Just for a second,” Ami said, walking into the kitchen. “I wanted to ask you something before we all got together tonight.” Her lips momentarily pressed together. “Well, two somethings.”

“Okay,” Taylor replied as she took the creamer from the bag and placed it in the refrigerator. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized no light came on within the large appliance. Undoubtedly it’d been turned off for the season. She moved quickly, hoping that Ami wouldn’t notice. When she turned back around, Ami was busy looking at the collection of plates hanging on the wall. “What did you want to ask?”

“The first one is selfish, but…” She hesitated. “…I’m just going to ask. Since you’re looking into the deed, are your grandparents planning to sell?”

Shit!
“Ami, with the way Grandpa’s been feeling, they really don’t know. They just want to cover their bases.”

“Will you remember me, if they do?”

Taylor tilted her head to the side. “Remember you? What do you mean?”

Ami reached in her purse and handed Taylor a card. “I recently got my realtor’s license and well, you’ll meet Heather. She works with us too. She’s been doing realty for a while. So to ask you in front of her…” Taylor tried to listen as Ami shared more information about herself in a period of ten minutes than most people do who’ve known each other for years. When she got to the part about her little boy, Taylor’s listening skills went into hyperdrive.

“…we live with my parents. Working for Jefferson will never get me my own house. I really want that for Brian and I’m tired of living under my parents’ roof. I didn’t realize how much I wanted a place of my own until Mel moved here.”

“Mel? Why? Does she make you feel bad about living with your parents?”

Ami shrugged. “Not intentionally, but with the situation with her daughter, she talks about how much better off she’d be living with her. And it made me think about having my own place with Brian.” Ami shook her head. “Mel doesn’t like hearing me talk about Brian, unless she’s talking about how she’s going to win back custody and bring Nicole here to live.” Ami’s eyes got big. “Oh, that’s the other thing I wanted to ask you. Do you have kids? If you do, don’t mention them tonight. Mel gets very uncomfortable.”

“Um, I don’t. I’m not married.” Taylor spied a rack of wine bottles. She really hoped they weren’t being saved for a special occasion. Ami had just opened a treasure box of information, and if the wine would help retrieve more, Taylor was willing to sacrifice. “Would you like some wine before we go to dinner?”

Ami hung her purse on the back of one of the chairs and unzipped her jacket. “You probably think I’m crazy talking about all of this. But the way I see it, you’re practically a neighbor. I don’t know your grandparents that well, but they’re nice people. Sometimes it’s easier talking to people you don’t know. This town’s so small. You can’t say anything that the whole town doesn’t find out.”

It took two tries, but Taylor finally found the glasses. They weren’t wine glasses, but they’d do. The next search was for the corkscrew. She found that in the third drawer she tried. Pouring the wine, Taylor pried, “What happened to Mel? Why’s she so sensitive?”

Taking a drink—bigger than a sip—Ami began, “Well, it took me awhile to get the information. Apparently her ex is a piece of work. She won’t tell any of us his name. Some court-ordered silence thing. I get the feeling he was abusive.”

“And
he
has Mel’s daughter? How?”

“Money.”

“He’s rich?”

Ami nodded. “She hasn’t come out and said it. I only learned Nicole’s name one time when Mel was drunk. She kept talking about how pretty her daughter is and how much she misses her.” Ami leaned forward. “Now that she opened up to me, she talks privately about it from time to time. I’m pretty sure that the prick ex is remarried. Mel’s said, more than once, something about getting Nicole away from the bitch playing mommy.”

If Taylor’s training hadn’t kicked into gear, her jaw would have been on the floor. As it was, she was sure her pulse rate was off the charts. “What is she going to do? Is Mr. Diamond going to represent her to win back her daughter?”

Ami emptied her glass and poured another. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? Like if you need to fight a court order and you work for a lawyer…” She shook her head. “I keep expecting Jefferson to tell me to counter something or do something. I want him to. I want to know this dickhead’s name, but so far, nothing.”

Taylor sipped her wine, using the term loosely. Whatever it was in her glass was too sweet to be considered wine. Not to mention, the insulting aftertaste. Swallowing the liquid, she asked, “So do you all try to keep the conversation away from kids?”

“Yes. Not always. I mean, Jefferson handles a lot of divorces and custody battles. At work we mention them. It’s when we’re out and she’s drinking. Usually she just turns off and leaves. It’s only been a few times when it’s just been the two of us that she’s confided in me. I promised not to say anything.” Ami shrugged. “I’m not very good at keeping a secret.”

Undoubtedly, a great quality for someone who works for the town’s attorney
. No wonder small towns get the reputation of gossip mills. “Do you need to go home to Brian before dinner?”

Ami looked at her phone. “Shit, I do. I’d better go. My mom knows I go out on Fridays, but I usually go home and see him first.” She continued talking as she put her jacket back on. “My folks bowl on a league on Fridays. Since I go out with the girls, they take Brian with them to the bowling alley. I better hurry before they’re gone.”

“Okay, thank you for the coffee.”

Ami smiled. “Thanks for the wine. I know I sound like a bitch telling secrets, but the thing is, I like Mel.” She suddenly looked sad. “Not that she feels the same. I mean, we’re friends. I’d like it to be more than that, but I think she’s still hung up on that dick of an ex.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. This was much more information than she’d dreamt of retrieving.

“So the thing is,” Ami continued, “I don’t want her to get all pissy and leave the bar. I was hoping you’d help me out.”

“Sure thing.” Taylor pressed her lips together and pretended to twist a key. “Not a word from me. I won’t mention kids or dick exes.”

Ami laughed. “I don’t mind the dick ex conversation. I’m dying to know his name.” She reached for her glass and finished off what little remained in there. “This was great wine!”

Taylor nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“I’ll see you in a little bit. Don’t forget. Nothing about the realty either, and…” Ami smiled. “…remember me.”

“Oh, I will. Thanks, Ami.”

Taylor waited until Ami’s car backed down the drive to call Phil. As she meticulously put the Townsends’ farmhouse back in the order she’d found it, wiped down anything with fingerprints, and headed back to town for dinner, she shared her newfound knowledge.

IT HAD BEEN
a long time since Phillip Roach had sat fully on the wrong side of the law. Perhaps all he’d done to help Claire escape the clutches of Catherine London as well as stay off the FBI’s radar wasn’t legal, but it wasn’t this. This was the Phillip Roach of years ago: the one who knew his objective and accomplished it at any cost. This was the man he thought he’d always be but had somehow put to rest. The stark difference between years ago and today was with the issue of the order. In special ops and even in private hire, he received an order and he carried it out.

Today, there was no order.

If there had been, in Phil’s current state of employment, it would have come from Claire or Rawlings. Phil refused to allow either of them to be involved. They didn’t know his plans or what Taylor had learned from Ami Beech, and they never would.

Somehow, despite the elevated stress the packages and letters instilled, the Rawlingses had come to terms with them. Phil’s family had a sense of peace with their security. He had too, until there was too much—too much evidence that moved his calm, experienced mind into a cyclone of terrorizing thoughts. One seemingly innocuous clue was the color of Patricia’s hair. Red. People who wanted to stay hidden changed their hair to a neutral color, one that blended into the masses. Patricia’s color screamed for attention, or more accurately of arrogance.