It read that I, as the plaintiff, had not received my monthly stipend from Terrance Malden in the last two months. Nor had he paid my tuition fees to the University of Miami. It also stated that after several phone calls, Mr. Malden could not be reached. In addition that the presumption was that the trustee of my estate no longer resided at the address on file. The details were accurate, so I signed the document.
He scanned the paper. “Mr. Pilkington will do his best. Also, since we can’t locate Mr. Malden, Mr. Pilkington will petition the court to gain access to tax returns, bank statements, and so forth. It would help tremendously if we could get Mr. Malden to hand over his files on his accounting of the estate. In the meantime, sit tight until we hear from Mr. Pilkington.”
Waiting was never my strong suit. I needed to get to the bottom of this faster. The longer it took to freeze the assets, the more opportunity Terrance had to gamble away all my money. And the more he did, the more my future disintegrated. I couldn’t even pay Mr. Davenport. I suddenly realized we hadn’t discussed his fee.
I stopped sabotaging my nail. “Sir, I don’t have any money to pay you.”
His dark eyes softened before he held his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I haven’t done much, but let’s see where the case takes us. Then we can talk. And I promise if I do charge a fee it won’t be anything you can’t handle. Is that fair?”
I stood. “I appreciate that. And I’m sure Kelton has a good reason for missing this appointment.”
His expression instantly hardened. “A position at my firm is highly sought after, especially for law majors. I was impressed when he contacted me about your case by the knowledge he had of estate law. I also dug into his employment at the last law firm he interned for. They highly recommend him, but not showing up to this appointment doesn’t bode well for Mr. Maxwell.” He reached for his desk phone. “One more thing, Ms. Reardon. If you happen to speak with Terrance Malden, please let me know.”
I nodded as I crossed the room. When I reached the door, I turned back. “Sir, can I bring charges against Terrance if we find he’s been stealing?”
“You can bring a civil suit against him. But as the executor of the estate, he’s criminally liable. If he is stealing, he can also be found in contempt of the probate court. That would carry a fine and possible jail sentence. But that would depend on the severity of the case. Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“Thank you,” I said then whisked out of the posh offices.
Once outside on the busy street, I called Zach. It had been three days since I’d talked to him at the club. Kelton had said Zach left a message with his father. Surely a father would return his son’s phone call.
“Hello,” he said in a curt tone.
“Zach, it’s Elizabeth Reardon. Did you talk to your father?”
“This isn’t a good time.” The phone went dead.
I called again as I squeezed the phone, trying to crush it in two. It rang several times before his voicemail picked up. I hung up then dialed again. Again it went to voicemail. My need to strangle him was greater than my desire to beat his father into submission at the moment.
Instead of screaming at the top of my lungs, I dialed Kelton’s number. His voicemail picked up immediately. I tried one more time. Same result. I set my sights on Rumors. Maybe Kelton was there or Kade would know where Kelton was. As I headed for the “T,” fear supplanted my rage. My mind went to accident and death. I didn’t have the best luck when it came to people I loved. I shouldn’t have told Kelton I loved him. The word itself was a bad omen. I was beginning to see why Kelton was so freaked out by it.
21
Kelton
After hours of driving around Boston, I still couldn’t breathe. I turned on my phone as I pressed on the bell to the backdoor of Rumors. I had fifteen messages, all of which I was sure were from Chloe. I was the biggest fucking dick in the world, and not taking responsibility wasn’t in my nature. My father taught all of us boys to own up to our messes. We always had, but at the moment, I didn’t know how. I needed Kade’s advice. He would probably be stricter than my dad. I wanted that. No, I needed tough love. Or better yet, several punches to the face.
I banged on the buzzer again. My hands were still shaking worse than an eight-point-two earthquake.
Finally, the bar engaged, and Kade opened the door. “What the fuck happened to you? Why is your hand covered in dry blood?”
“You alone?” I wasn’t walking in if he wasn’t. It was late afternoon, and the nightshift would be coming in soon. I’d seen only Kade’s truck in the parking lot.
“Kross is here. We were hanging out in the office.”