Page 186 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set

The waitress returns with our drinks and Rainey reaches for a sugar packet in the holder in the center of the table. “I didn’t know him then, but it was some kind of investment. That’s what he says, anyway.” Then she darts her gaze around the restaurant as two women come in to eat. “I’m not sure I should say anymore.”

“Why not?” I take a sip of the iced tea Amy delivered. Yuck. It’s not fresh brewed.

“Curt won’t like that I’m talking to you about this.” She grabs a spoon from the napkin roll in front of her and stirs her drink. She’s suddenly nervous.

“I’m his daughter. I have a right to know what he’s doing.”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t see it that way. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut.”

Amy returns with our sandwiches, and Laney stops talking altogether.

She doesn’t say another word as she stuffs her face with her steak sandwich and fries, and when she’s reduced them to a few crumbs, she gestures to Amy and orders another sandwich with onion rings to go. Rainey’s not thin, but I have a feeling she hasn’t had this good of a meal in a while. I happily pay the bill for her extra food.

She chatters about mundane stuff on our drive back, and then she gets out of the car when I pull into the driveway. “Thanks again, Sadie. I enjoyed the lunch.”

I’m not ready to give up my search yet. “You mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, that’s fine. Come on in.”

She opens the rickety screen door, unlocks the front door, and I follow her inside.

“Down the hall, first door on the left.” She points, but I doubt I need directions in a place this small.

I walk over the carpet to the bathroom. It looks about how I expected. Nothing more than a bathtub, a shower curtain decorated with palm trees and coconuts, a toilet, and a sink. The hand soap dispenser is empty. Great.

I don’t actually have to go to the bathroom, but I take a look around. In the mirrored cabinet above the sink is a man’s razor and a bottle of aspirin. No drugs. Not that I expected to find any. Rainey’s drug of choice is clearly nicotine, and my father’s is alcohol.

Still, I’m relieved. My father may be an asshole, but at least he’s not a drug addict.

I flush the toilet for show, and then I turn on the faucet, try to extract whatever’s left in the soap dispenser, and then wipe my hands on my jeans. I don’t want to touch the hand towel.

Rainey’s in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette.

That reminds me of the ashtray in the living room that I wanted to empty. I walk into the living room and pick it up. A cigarette butt falls onto the end table. I grab the cigarette butt, place it back in the ashtray—

Crash!

The ashtray slips from my still damp hands and clatters onto the glass-topped coffee table, shattering it. Butts and ashes fall to the table and to the floor.

“You okay in there?” Rainey yells from the kitchen.

“Yeah. Fine. I’m sorry. I dropped your ashtray. It broke the glass top of the coffee table. I’ll clean it up and replace the glass.”

What a mess.

I pick up the ashtray, ready to shove as much ash back into it as possible, when the design printed on it catches my gaze.

It’s a horse. A racehorse, to be exact, and next to it… I look on the other side, next to the horse logo.

Racehorse Hauling.

Perhaps this was Joey’s. Maybe he gave this ashtray to our father.

But already, my instinct is telling me otherwise. If my father truly came into some money—if he was telling Rainey the truth—this could be a clue. And when Racehorse Hauling was shut down? So was the money.

I pull my phone out of my purse quickly, and my heart skips a beat when I see that I have a voicemail from Miles. I didn’t hear the phone ring because I set it on silent during the meeting in the conference room this morning. Crap. I forgot to turn the ringer back on. I hope Miles isn’t worried. I call his number, but he doesn’t answer.

I’ll send him a text.