Page 7

CHAPTER 7

C helsea brought Olive a pouch of grape juice—she said that was all she had on hand other than water. Olive insisted she didn’t mind before taking a sip from the tiny straw she’d poked into the top.

Henry sat on the floor playing with some toy cars, running them along a road printed on the rug beneath him. Olive smiled, enamored with the boy’s chubby cheeks and big eyes. She imagined Jason on the floor playing with his nephew, and her heart panged with some kind of strange emotion.

Was that longing?

Olive pulled her gaze away, dreading where this conversation might go. Certainly Chelsea had things she wanted to say to Olive—things not pertaining to this investigation. Considering how things had gone between Jason and Olive, it would be weird if she didn’t.

Chelsea got right to the point. “You broke my brother’s heart.”

Olive drew in a deep breath before calmly saying, “I didn’t want to move.”

“You could have stayed in touch.” An edge of protectiveness remained in Chelsea’s voice.

“I wanted to. It was complicated. I was only sixteen, and my hands were tied.”

Her lips flickered down in a frown. “I do realize you were young. But what about when you turned eighteen? Did you have a choice then?”

Olive swallowed hard, trying to carefully phrase her next statement. “My family was murdered when I was seventeen years old. Life was a lot different after that.”

Chelsea pressed her eyes closed and lowered her head with regret. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. Jason didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. And believe me, I never wanted to hurt Jason. I loved him.”

Chelsea opened her eyes again and studied Olive’s face for several minutes. “Jason told me the two of you reconnected recently.”

“We did. I was in Chicago for another job?—”

“You’re a PI now?”

Olive nodded again. “That’s right. It was nice to see Jason again.”

She shifted, her expression softening. “I’m sorry if I sounded harsh. I just needed to get that off my chest before we started. I’m protective of those in my circle.”

“It’s understandable.”

Chelsea offered a half shrug. “For what it’s worth, I really thought you and Jason were perfect together.”

“Your brother is a wonderful man. He deserves someone . . . well, someone much better than me, who has more to offer.”

Those were some of the most honest words Olive had ever spoken. Her life was full of potholes, and the path behind her was dark and twisted. Jason deserved someone who would make his life better, not more complicated.

Chelsea opened her mouth as if to argue with Olive’s statement about Jason deserving someone better. Then she pressed her lips together instead.

She couldn’t deny those words, could she? Because they were true.

Olive took another sip of her grape juice and set the pouch on the end table beside her. “Thank you for letting me come. I know you must be nervous.”

“Jason assured me you’d do a good job with this, that I could trust you.”

“You can. I won’t tell anyone whatever you say.”

Chelsea stared at Olive another moment before nodding. “Okay then. Let’s talk.”

“Thank you.” Olive licked her lips before diving in. “Let’s start at the beginning. How do you know Rebecca?”

Chelsea’s frown deepened, and she rubbed at an imaginary spot on her jeans. “It brings me no pleasure to say any of this.”

“I understand.”

“But I can’t sit back and stay silent if Rebecca is swindling good people with big hearts out of their hard-earned money. We’d be supporting her as she works hard to make her fake life believable. How absurd is that?”

For once, Olive wished she really was making a documentary . . . because that line would sell the entire feature to viewers wide and far.

“I met Rebecca and Matt at church.” Chelsea ran her hands over her jeans again as if nervous. “We’re in the same Sunday school class. It’s for young married couples with kids.”

“Is it a large church?”

“About five hundred people.”

Olive’s gaze drifted to Henry as he continued to play with his car. Another pang she couldn’t identify hit her.

She turned back to Chelsea. “What’s Rebecca like?”

“Enigmatic is the best word to describe her,” Chelsea said. “Everyone loves Rebecca. Even when she was diagnosed with cancer, she still brought food to people after they had a baby or when they were sick or lost a loved one. She led the children’s choir at Christmas. She was— is —quite the force to be reckoned with.”

“I can see that.” Olive crossed her legs as they continued. “Do you remember when she was diagnosed with cancer?”

“I do. We were all devastated.” Chelsea shook her head, the conversation clearly weighing on her. “Rebecca was so transparent about everything that it was touching. She walked us through all her struggles, and she had this amazing faith. I mean, she really was an inspiration. I would have fallen to pieces if I’d gotten that news, but she was so strong.”

“When did you start getting suspicious she may not be telling the truth?”

Chelsea blew out a breath. “I guess my doubts started as admiration. I mean, Rebecca was always so positive despite what happened. She also always looked good. My sister-in-law—my husband’s brother’s wife—had cancer, and during chemo she lost some teeth, she got scabs on her face, her hair fell out, and she had no energy.”

“Did you wonder if Rebecca’s body was simply responding differently to treatment?” Olive waited to see how the question would be taken.

“Maybe. That’s what I told myself at least. But then Rebecca supposedly had a bone marrow transplant. Two days later, her family went to Disney World.” A wrinkle formed on her brow, and she shook her head in disgust.

“Okay . . .” Olive waited for her to continue.

“She rode the rides! You can’t do that so soon after having a procedure like she had.” Chelsea’s voice rose with emotion.

Her observation had been astute. “I can see why that would make you suspicious.”

“Once the idea was in my head, everything started falling into place, including the fact that she never lost her eyebrows. That’s when I knew for sure that something was up. Her story just didn’t make sense.”