Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
It was when she started talking about the years after Melody left, and how her father started going downhill mentally, and how she was the one that stepped up and saved this place—
I smile to myself as I turn a knob and peer into another bedroom on the far end of the eastern wing. This one feels right—its feminine but younger. It’s a big room, very pretty and well maintained, with small modern touches. Throw pillows, comfortable blankets, a couple candles left burning. Heels are lined up near the door. I step inside, peering around the corner, but the place is empty. A computer sits blank on a desk across from a massive four-poster bed. An iPad charges on the bedside table. Another door leads into a bathroom with a messy vanity, and beyond that is a massive walk-in closet with more women’s clothing.
I start with the closet. People are predictable. I learned that over the years too—even if I think a hiding spot is too obvious, half the time that’s exactly where I find whatever I’m searching for. I flip through sweaters, glance under dresses, poke around on shelves. I find old shoeboxes of photographs—young girls smiling, tanned and happy, and I recognize Daisy, and Melody, and some of the guy cousins, and another girl cousin that must be Rosie—but nothing useful. Old memories, dead and gone.
I drift back into the main room and start rifling through the desk.
Why would Daisy save this place? Of all the people in her family, why her? Why not those uncles, or an aunt, or anyone else? There have to be outside investors involved with a business like this, or at least people that know something about the day-to-day operations, somebody that could look at the books and ask the right questions. Why didn’t they step in if Colton was so bad? Daisy had to have been young back then, maybe twenty at most. Why would a kid that age be the one to start making huge financial decisions, and why would anyone go along with it?
Just doesn’t add up.
But that’s not the only thing bugging me. That’s bad enough, but what she said about Old Man Leader doesn’t sit right, either. I’ve spoken to him a few times and he always came across as totally lucid. Struggling with his health, often in pain and suffering, but mentally all there, totally aware of what’s going on with a solid grasp on fine details and long-term planning. I’ve met old folks suffering from memory problems, dementia, Alzheimer’s, all that stuff, and Melody’s father never struck me as impaired like that, not even a little bit.
Which shoots a pretty massive hole right in Daisy’s story.
I find nothing in the drawers. The computer is locked and I can’t guess the password. There are no files, no notebooks, no diaries. The place looks barren, almost like it was picked through and cleaned out recently. There’s nothing under the mattress, or behind the bed, no loose floorboards, no hiding spots behind paintings, nothing like that. My search turns up frustratingly little, which is something in itself since it only makes me think Daisy’s got something to hide even more than I already did, but my questions remain.
Why Daisy? And how much of that story was true?
There’s a noise in the hall. I freeze, listening close. I didn’t hear any cars return, but maybe I was wrong about everyone leaving for the night. I sneak to the door, trying to strain, but there’s nothing. No voices, no footsteps. Heart racing, I step back out into the hall and close the door behind me.
“You won’t find much in there.”
I flinch and look over. The nurse stands there, smiling at me like she caught me sneaking cookies from the kitchen. I straighten and face her, arms crossed over my chest. I consider lying, telling some story about looking for a lost phone or a missing wallet, but something in her tone makes me pause. “What do you think I was looking for?” I ask.
“Don’t know,” she admits and leans back against the wall. “But you wouldn’t be in Miss Daisy’s room unless you were trying to find something. Problem is Miss Daisy’s very careful, and I doubt she’d keep anything important in there.” Her eyebrows raise. “Unless you have a more intimate relationship with her than I thought?”
“Daisy’s a stranger to me. I’m here with Melody.”
“Figured.” She shrugs, still smiling, and I can’t get a read on what’s going on. She’s not angry, which is what I expected. She’s almost—relieved.
“Let me ask you something.” I move closer to her and smell mint and flowers. “You’ve been Colton Leader’s nurse for a year now, right?”
“Little bit longer, but yes, that’s right.”
“Has he been diagnosed with dementia? Or Alzheimer’s?”
She looks surprised. “No, not that I’m aware. And I’m not a doctor, but I’ve been around patients with those diseases. Colton doesn’t show any of those symptoms.”