If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [153]
Steve and Grace.
Heart thudding, she eavesdropped.
“Please, Steve, don’t do this. Your health is more important to me than anything.”
“I need to. On Monday I’m going to Jackson and getting a mortgage. I need you to sign with me.”
“You’ll be in debt for the rest of your life. You’ll put yourself in an early grave. I can’t go through that again. Not what I went through with your father. Him dying in my arms because we couldn’t get him to the hospital fast enough.”
“Please, don’t—”
“We can sell. That will solve all our financial problems.”
“I’m not selling!”
“Beth, tell Steve that a mortgage isn’t the solution.”
Beth must have stepped into the kitchen, or had been silent at first. “Actually, I’ve been thinking it might be a good option. Not a large mortgage, but ten percent would be more than enough to replenish the emergency funds. I’ll stay here, at least another year, and work out a budget and growth plan. It’s my forte.”
“But it’s not about the lodge, it’s about Steve!” Grace said. “His health.”
“You need to go to the doctor, Steve,” said Beth. “I’ll help you with the mortgage papers—we’ll go to my old boss, he’ll find us a good program. But then you have to promise to go in for the tests.”
“All right,” Steve agreed.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Grace said.
“It’s a win-win,” Beth said. “Steve gets what he wants, you get what you want. Steve, can you help me clean up the guest rooms?”
“Sure. Thanks, Beth.”
“You’ve grown on me. I want you happy and I want you healthy. Okay?”
Lucy didn’t know if Grace had left, and she couldn’t open the door to check. Though she wasn’t dressed for the weather, she went out the side door and walked around the porch to the front door. The snow was still falling, but didn’t seem as severe as earlier this morning. Drifts had accumulated against the porch and she couldn’t see the stairs. She shivered and tried the front door, but it was locked.
Dammit, this wasn’t a smart idea. She knocked, getting colder by the second. She knocked again and the door swung open.
Grace said, “What are you doing outside dressed like that?”
“I stepped out to get fresh air and must have locked the door, or someone else did. I was only out here for a few minutes.”
She shook off in the foyer, feeling like a wet dog, her long hair already damp against her cheeks. She tucked it behind her ears. “Thanks,” she added when Grace didn’t say anything.
“Beth said your brother was sick.”
“Stomach flu, I guess. I don’t know, but he’s finally sleeping again. I think I’ll go check on him.”
She walked upstairs, feeling Grace’s eyes on her back.
EIGHT
Fifteen minutes later, Lucy was bundled in ski clothes. She knocked on Angie and Kyle’s door. Kyle opened it. He was disheveled. Angie leapt off the bed and headed for the bathroom; Lucy noted she was naked.
Lucy blushed. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to, well—”
“It’s okay. Is Patrick feeling better?”
“Yes, but still queasy. Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
He closed the door behind her. Angie emerged from the bathroom in a robe.
“I need your help,” Lucy said.
“Like when you asked me to talk to Beth about Trevor?” Angie asked.
“Right. I need to go to Patrick’s truck, but I don’t want anyone coming with me. At least, anyone but one of you.”
“I don’t get it,” Kyle said.
“I have to trust someone, and I don’t have anyone else. Alan and Heather are probably fine, but Patrick thinks you’re on the up-and-up.”
“What’s going on?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, not willing to give up the fact that Vanessa was murdered. “But something is weird around here, and I think Patrick figured it out but then he was drugged. He’s not sick—he was intentionally drugged. And he doesn’t remember what he did last night.” That wasn’t a total lie.
“Was Vanessa drugged, too?” Angie asked, wide-eyed.
“I honestly don’t know. But I talked to the sheriff, and he’s working on getting deputies here by the end of today, but there’s no guarantee.