Page 27

James

A nn Milligan scurried into the care home, looking more exhaustedthan the day before, and completely oblivious to her surroundings.

If she’d been less worried about her mom, and more worried for herown life, she would have noticed me lurking in the shadows for the last two days, watching her every move.

The best part was, her mom wasn’tevenill. A few calls to the rightpeople and her dear old mom was being slipped sleeping pills three times a day, making it look like she was on her last legs.

At leastthatwas what Milligan was told, which is why she left hersanctuary of Peartree House to spend some final time with her mom, oblivious to the factthat after she was dead and buried, her mom would bejustfine.

Was it callous to use her mom in such a cruel way? Abso-fucking-lutely.

But I needed a way to draw her out of Peartree House, otherwise Inever would have been able to interrogate her. Before the night was over, I was determined to have all my answers as to who the fuck Helen Somersby was, and why my mom had written her name on the piece of paper but didn’t want my dad to know.

And if Milligan didn’t give me the answers easily,thenI had noissues with doling out my own form of torture to get my answers. It would have been the least she deserved for what she’d done to Willow over the years.

Once the front door to the care home closed, I settled back in theseat of my car. For the past two days, Milligan had been inside with her mom for hours, and I doubted today would be any different with the exception of one fact.

She wouldn’t be coming back tomorrow.

After an hour of watching people coming and going from the carehome while my thoughts were firmly back home with my mouse, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and found Jackson’s name flashing on the screen.

“Anything?”I said as a way of greeting.

“I think so.”

I sat up straighter, my attention piqued. Since Isabella handed methe piece of paper with the name Helen Somersby scrawled on it, my mind had been consumed with finding out who the hell she was.

When I showed the paper to Jackson, he’d jumped straight onto thecomputer to see if he could find anything out, but of course, withjusta name, it was like trying to search for a tiny needle in averylarge haystack. We both agreed on one thing though. Whoever Helen was, we werecertain she was linked to Willow. Why else would my mom have had such a reaction to seeing Willow the first time they met? And why now? Why give me the name now unless it was somehow tied to my wife?

The questions were endless.

“Go on,”I said, impatience getting the better of me.

“Have a read of this.”

A second later, my phone dinged. I pulled it away from my ear andselected the email Jackson had sent. Opening the attachment, my eyes scanned over the news article dated eight years ago.

MOTHER AND DAUGHTER DEAD IN SUSPECTED MURDER-SUICIDE, ONE MONTH AFTER FAMILY TRAGEDY.

A mother and her ten-year-old daughter were found dead in their car after being reported missing earlier this week. Helen Somersby, 34, is suspected of intentionally driving her car off an embankment, and into Sumter National Forest in South Carolina, killing both herself and her daughter, Charlotte.

The tragedy comes almost one month after Helen’s husband was fatally wounded in a car crash.

“That’s it? Where’s the rest of the article?”I snapped, reading overthe article again as adrenaline began to rush through me.

This wasn’t a coincidence. Jackson hadjustconfirmed what wethought - Helen was Willow’s mom.

“That’s it. It was a small paragraph in the local paper. I’ve searchedbirth records for both Helen and Charlotte Somersby, and marriage certificates to find out who Helen was married to, but I can’t find anything,”Jackson said, a hint of frustration in his voice.“This has got Legion written all over it, James. If I had to take a guess, I’d say the article was written to cover Helen and Charlotte’s disappearance after they were given new identities, and anythingthatcouldidentify their real names was removed from the face of the earth.”

I stroked a hand down the stubble coating my chin, nodding inagreementeventhough he couldn’t see. Aside from Jackson, there were other Legion members who were skilled hackers, it wouldn’t have been impossible to erase any trace of Helen and Charlotte Somersby ever existing.

But all the article had done was add a whole new influx of questionsto my ever-growing list, one standing out more than most. Why the fuck was the name Milligan written under Helen’s name?

I had theories, but there was one woman who could fill in the blanks,and I was determined to get what I needed from her.

The cocking of my gun echoed around the kitchen, the first noise I’dmade since breaking into Milligan’s mom’s house where Milligan had been staying the last few nights. She was sitting at the kitchen table, a bowl of soup in front of her, and she’d changed into her nightdress.

Night had fallen. The nearest neighbors were all locked away in thesafety of their homes. We wouldn’t be disturbed.

She froze when I pressed the barrel of my gun against the back ofher head, her hand holding a spoonful of soup hovering halfway to her mouth.

“Hello again, Ann,”I said menacingly, a malicious smile curling at thecorners of my mouth.

I’d never looked forward to killing someone as much as I did rightthen.

She lowered her hand, dropping the spoon back into her bowl.“Mr.Carter. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon. Bored ofthatlittle witch already?”

I chortled.“Far from it. Willow has kept meveryentertained.”

She let out a bored sigh.“I’m sure. May I ask why you’re holding agun to my head? You and I both know Legion rules state-”

“Statethatone Legion member won’t kill another Legion member?I’m aware. But as you well know, I’m rather profound in making deaths look like suicide. Or an accident.”

She fell silent. I wished I’d been standing in front of her when shelearned she was going to die, I would have loved to see her face fall.

“Wellthen,”she said after a moment’s pause, acceptance in her tone.“If this is going to be my last night on this planet, would you at least grant me the privilege of letting me finish my soup? Leek and potato happens to be my favorite.”

I pulled the gun away from her head and moved to sit in the chair atthe other end of the table, giving her a nod as I lowered myself down. I supposed I could grant her one final wish.“Be my guest.”

I glowered at her as she slowly fed herself several spoonfuls of soup.With every mouthful, she closed her eyes as if she relished each taste of her final meal.

When she finished, she delicately dabbed her mouth with a napkin.“How is she?”she asked, eventually breaking the silence.

I narrowed my eyes on her. “Do you really care?”

“No,” she replied instantly. “I never particularly cared for that girl.”

“Why? What did she ever do to you?”I managed to keep my toneneutral, despite the flare of angerthatshot through me.

“It wasn’t what she did to me. It was what she reminded me of,”shereplied, her tone void of any emotion.

My brows furrowed at her answer, but I didn’t ask the obviousquestion which was on the tip of my tongue. Her acceptance of her fate was sparking my curiosity, I thought I’d have a battle on my hands to get my answers, but now I was second-guessing myself.

“There’s a thirty-year-old scotch in the cupboard behind me. My momwas saving it for if I ever got married, but itseemsthatday won’t be coming. Mind if I pour myself a glass?”

I placed my hand over the gun I’d laid on the table in warning.“Aslong as you don’t try anything stupid.”

She gave me a sad smile.“I have no intention of being tortured byyou for answers, James. If I’m going to die, I’d rather it be as pain-free as possible.”

She rose to her feet and cleared her bowl away, washing it in the sinkand drying it. Once she’d put it back in the cupboard, she grabbed the bottle of scotch and two short glasses before pouring a generous amount of the amber liquid into each glass and sliding one over to me.

“Funny. You didn’tseemto have a problem with torturing Willow, didyou, Ann?”I said, refusing to take a drop of scotch until she did on the off chance it was poisoned. I doubted it was, but you could never be too careful.

“No, I didn’t,”she replied candidly.“I didn’t have a problem withdisciplining the girl, and nor do I regret it.”

My jaw clenched at the callousness in her tone, and the need toplant a bullet into her brain rightthatsecond grew stronger the longer I stared at her.

“Why,”I growled, unable to hold back my contempt for her and donewith playing nice.

She didn’t answer, instead taking a large gulp of her drink andswallowing it down before refilling it.

“You know, I haven’t been back to this house since I was in my earlytwenties. I had a good childhood growing up here, I forgot how much I missed this place,”she said, gazing fondly around the room.

“I couldreallydo without the trip down memory lane.”

Her eyes hardened.“But you’ll listen to me if you want what youcame here for. Unless Willow has remembered everything about her past, which I highly doubt, otherwise you wouldn’t be here,thenI’m one of the few people who know what you want to know,”she snapped, her tone sharp.

I leaned forward and placed my arms on the table.“And what is itthatI want to know?”I asked, finally taking a sip of the scotch and enjoying the smoothness of it.

She smirked.“All in good time, James.”

I leaned back in my chair. I was in no rush, so long as I got myanswers.“Fine, answer me this. Why is itthatyou are so willing to tell me somethingthatyou and Welch were so desperate to make Willow forget?”

“Aside from not wanting to be tortured by you?”She paused, waitingfor my response. I nodded.“Because I’m tired, James. I’m tired of harboring secrets and getting nothing in return. I’m tired of being the invisible woman who no one wants. If my time has come to an end,thenI want to go out in a blaze of glory, and be remembered as the woman who ruined the men who ruined her.”

My brows furrowed in curiosity. She held my gaze, and for a briefsecond, she wasn’t the woman who’d inflicted years of pain on my wife. She was a woman who was in pain herself. But in an instant, her features soured, and she was once again the hard-nosed bitch Willow knew her to be.

“Who’s Helen Somersby?”I asked when she didn’t speak again for atense minute.

A small smile crept across her lips.“Now, that’s a name I haven’theard in years. Did Willow remember her mom’s name or did you find out some other way?”I didn’t reply, not prepared to give away what information I knew, until she spoke again.“Come on, James. If you want me to tell you what I know, the least you can do is tell me how you came to be sitting here with me tonight.”

I tilted my head to the side, considering my options before pulling outthe piece of paper I’d kept with me since Isabella handed it to me, and slid it across the table.“My mom helped.”

She picked up the paper, her gaze darting across the words beforeshe met my eyes, an unreadable expression on her face.“You know what they say. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“Meaning?”

A malicious look flashed across her face.“Everyone loved Helen.Including your father.”My jaw almost hit the table, and my eyes widened.“Don’t tell me you’re surprised, James. Your father might have loved your mother at some point, but he was never a one-woman man.”

Honestly? It was a surprise. I’d never have imagined my father havingan affair. No, he wasn’t the most affectionate man toward my mom when we were growing up, and he was nothing but cold to her after he cut her tongue out, but I never considered he would have cheated on my mom.

And with Willow’s mom of all people?

What the fuck?

“My father was having an affair with Willow’s mom?”

“No. But it wasn’t for lack of trying on your father’s part. Unfortunatelyfor him, Helen was devoted to someone else.”She chuckled, before shaking her head as if she was enjoying a private joke.“I imagine your mom thought she saw a ghost when she met Willow, she was the spitting image of Helen.”

Disbelief rampaged through me. Was this what my father washiding? The memory of his phone call to Welch echoed in my ears. No, he had been too panicked to hide the fact he had feelings for another woman. There was more to this twisted tale for sure.

“I would have died a happy woman if I never had to think of Helenagain,”Milligan said, pulling me out of my chaotic thoughts.

She fell quiet, staring down at the piece of paper as a myriad ofemotions flitted through her eyes. When she looked up again, they were as cold as ice.

“Helen was beautiful. Beautiful, but she knew it,”she started, hertone oozing with jealousy.“She might have been desired by every single man she came into contact with, but her beauty was only skin deep. Underneath, she was a horrible person who liked to make people’s lives a misery. Especially mine.”

She knocked back the remainder of her drink before once againrefilling it and holding the bottle out to me. I shook my head.“How did you know her?”

“She was my sister.”

My brows almost disappeared into my hairline in shock as dotsbegan to join together in my head. Milligan and Helen were sisters. Helen was Willow’s mom.

“Willow is your niece?”I blurted, anger in my blood reaching boilingpoint.

How the fuck could she hurt her niece? If anyone dared hurt Billie, I’dskin them alive, andthenrip their heart out with my bare hands and shove it down their throats until they choked on it.

Milligan nodded once.“Every day for eight years, I had to look atthatgirl, and each time, I was reminded of her mother,”she hissed.“Reminded of what she took from me.”

“Which was?”I growled, my patience rapidly declining.

Anguish seeped into her eyes, the coldness in them softening.“Theman I loved,”she whispered, almost to herself.

I glared back at her without an ounce of sympathy. She brutallyassaulted Willow time and time again, all because of something her mom did.

“I assume you’re talking about Willow’s father?”I said when shedidn’t speak for a minute, doing my best to keep my tone neutral.

Milligan’s eyes hardened.“He has a name,”she snarled, banging herfist on the table.

“Had. He had a name.”

Her face contorted into a scowl as she tore her eyes away from me.

“Had,”she replied quietly.“I still loved him, you know. Right up untilthe day he died. And if it wasn’t enoughthatI had to look at Willow and see Helen in her, I had to see parts of him in her too.”

“What was his name?”I snapped, unable to control my fury.

“Daniel.”

Daniel Somersby. For some reason, in the far recess of my brain, hisname rang a bell. Maybe he was one of the many names I’d come across when I’d been researching fatal car crashes.

Milligan’s eyes glazed over as she stared at a spot on the table, lostin memories.“Helen was the reason I took the job at Peartree House. After she stole Daniel away from me, I had nothing. I couldn’t bear to see them together. But when I got to Peartree House, I fell in love again, and I thought I’d get my happy ever after.“Her eyes shot to mine, her lips twisting into a poisonous sneer.“Untilthatlittle bitch came along, and he wasn’t interested in me anymore.”

I stared back at her, another puzzle piece slotting into place.“Youfell in love with Welch?”I chuckled, earning a scathing glare from her.

“Kevin Welch happens to be an amazing man,”she shrieked, hereyes turning wide and maniacal.“He was in love with me too, until he came back from the annual Legion conference, and everything changed! All he could talk about was her. He didn’t care if she was only a child, he wanted her!”

I leaned forward, one part of her rant standing out more than the rest.“What the fuck was Willow doing at a Legion conference?”

“She was there with her parents!”she cried, getting to her feet, andslightly swaying from the scotch she’d been throwing back like water.“Your father wanted Helen, and Kevin wanted Willow, so they concocted a plan to get rid of Daniel!”

My brain felt sluggish trying to process everything Milligan hadjustblurted. If Willow’s parents were at a Legion conference, they had to be members, which meant…

“Willow is Legion.”

Milligan slumped back into her chair, suddenly zapped of energy.“Willow is Legion,”she confirmed softly.“Daniel was Legion. And he didn’t die in a car crash, he was murdered.”

A lump of steel landed heavily in my gut.“Who killed him?”

She met my eyes across the table, her face stoic.“You did.”