This guy fucking sucks.
He really fucking sucks.
Bambi and I spent the last week trying to get in contact with the lawyer who handled her father’s estate, some dickwad named Joseph Randall, but he’s been giving us the fucking runaround.
He’s either “busy with other cases,” “away from his office,” or just flat-out refuses to take our calls.
Bambi is much more understanding than I am. I think the guy is shady as fuck.
“Would you stop pacing, Graham?” Bambi said. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Who the hell takes a two-hour lunch break at ten in the morning?”
“This guy, apparently. Now would you just chill out, please?”
I leaned against the brass plaque with Randall’s name etched into it, and crossed my arms.
“Thank you,” Bambi said.
“Mmhmm.”
“Seriously, Graham. What is your deal?”
“You don’t find this the least bit weird? This guy’s been dodging us for a week. I told you we shouldn’t have called ahead. His secretary probably warned him we were coming. He’s probably not coming back here for the rest of the day.”
“You don’t know that,” she said. “He’s probably just—”
“Really busy?” I scoffed. “Right.”
Bambi walked over to me and stood in front of me. “Why are you so angry? I’ve never seen you this pissed off before.”
“Because we deserve answers. You deserve answers. And this fucking dipshit is the one who has them but won’t give them to us. I don’t get how you’re not angry.”
Bambi shrugged. “I’m plenty angry, trust me. But we’ve gone seven years without knowing about any of this. What’s another few hours?”
“I get that. I do. It’s not the waiting that I have a problem with. It’s the way this guy has been jerking us around. His business card should say certified dick for brains instead of lawyer.”
After finding his contact information on the trust document, Bambi and I thought we’d gotten incredibly lucky. Joke’s on us. The guy had done everything in his power to avoid talking to us since, and I was starting to wonder if it was on purpose.
Bambi pursed her lips, trying to hold back a laugh.
She ran her hands up and down my arms. “Let’s just give it a little longer. If he’s not here by one o’clock, we’ll leave.”
My phone started ringing. I pulled it out, allowing myself to hope it was Randall. Except it fucking wasn’t.
“God,” I groaned, silencing the call and shoving my phone back in my pocket. “Give it a rest already.”
“The clinic again?”
“Yeah. Third time this week. You’d think they’d get the hint by now.”
“Why don’t you just answer and tell them you’re not interested in what they have to say? Maybe then they’d stop calling.”
I sighed. “I just want to be done with her, you know? I’m not interested in anything she has to say. Besides, if it were that important, they’d leave a message.”
“Have they?”
“Nah. Not anymore, anyway. The last time they did, they didn’t give any specifics. Just that they needed to speak with me regarding Caroline.”
Bambi’s nose scrunched like it always did when she was concentrating, and she bit the inside of her cheek.
“What is it?” I asked.
She shifted on her feet. “It’s nothing.”
“Bambi?” I arched a brow, dipping my head to catch her gaze.
She drew in a deep breath. “Hear me out before you jump down my throat, okay?”
“I don’t know if Randall is being shady like you think he is or if he really is just that busy, but while we’re basically chasing our tails, there’s one person who has the answers we need. And unlike Randall, we know where she is. So why not go to the source? Why not ask her ourselves?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No way.”
“Oh, come on, Graham. At least think about it before you shoot the idea down. She’s our best chance at figuring this out.”
“My answer is no, Bambi.” I pushed off the wall and headed down the sidewalk toward the small lot where we’d parked the truck.
I heard Bambi hurry after me.
“Graham!” she called out. “Graham, stop!”
I halted at the corner of the street and waited for Bambi to catch up.
“I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have brought it up. We’ll just wait for Randall or find someone else who can help.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and released a slow breath before turning to face her.
Her eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill over.
Fuck me. I’m such a fucking dick.
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry, Bambi. I know you were just trying to help. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did or walked away from you like that.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and fixed her eyes on the ground.
“I shouldn’t have suggested it. After everything she’s put you through, I…”
I stepped toward her and took her by the elbows, pulling her closer until the tips of our shoes touched. I slipped my fingers beneath her chin to tilt her head up. She turned her head, pulling away and refusing to meet my eyes.
“Bambi,” I said softly, reaching out again. This time, she let me guide her face toward mine. Tears slipped from her big brown eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” I wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “You can’t do that, Graham,” she said, her voice cracking.
“I know.” I kissed her forehead. “Forgive me?”
She unfolded her arms and wrapped them around me.
“Yeah,” she sniffled.
I never told Bambi what had happened when I’d gone to see Caroline at the clinic. A part of me hadn’t wanted to admit that Caroline had gotten under my skin or how much she’d seemed to enjoy it. At the time, Bambi hadn’t fully known how cruel Caroline had been to me. I hadn’t wanted her to.
But I wasn’t the same man I’d been the last time I visited her. And this time, I’d have Bambi by my side. Things might turn out differently. Maybe not necessarily better, but… yeah. Differently.
This wasn’t about me anyway. This was about Bambi. This was for Bambi.
I slid my hands to Bambi’s waist and took a step back. “I’ll call the clinic back,” I said. “We’ll go talk to her.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to.”
“No, you were right, Bambi. We’re clearly not getting anywhere with Randall. Our next best option is to talk to Caroline.”
“Are you sure?”
No. “I’m sure.”
I took Bambi’s hand in mine. “But if she says one wrong thing, if she even fucking looks at you wrong, we’re leaving.”
“Deal,” she said.
Back at the truck, I opened Bambi’s door and waited for her to climb in and buckle before closing it.
I got in behind the wheel and pulled my phone from my pocket.
“You don’t want to wait till we get home?”
“I’d rather just get it over with.”
I pulled up the clinics number and clipped my phone into the dash mount before backing out of the parking spot.
I drew in a sharp breath, steeling myself for the call I was about to make.
Then I hit the call button.
The line rang twice before someone picked up. “Thanks for calling Second Chances Rehab. Macy speaking. How may I assist you today?”
“This is Graham Woods. My mother, Caroline, is a patient there.”
“Last name is Woods, you said?”
“That’s correct. I got a call from you guys a little while ago.”
“Right. Yes. Um, could you hold, please?”
Bambi looked at me from the passenger seat, her brows pinching together.
“Sure,” I said, shaking my head and shrugging at Bambi.
The line clicked, and soft hold music filtered through the speaker.
“What’s that about?” Bambi asked, keeping her voice low.
“No idea.”
A minute or so later, the hold music stopped, and Macy’s voice came through.
“Mr. Woods? You still there?”
“Yeah. I was just wondering if it would be possible to arrange a visit with my mother this afternoon. I’m about ten minutes away.”
“Yes. About that, sir. Our records show that your mother is no longer with us.”
“I’m sorry, what? What are you saying?”
Macy sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh goodness me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, Mr. Woods. What I mean is that your mother is no longer a patient here. She was discharged.”
“What do you mean she was discharged?”
“Um, she was… discharged?”
“Macy, with all due respect, may I speak with a supervisor, please?”
Macy was silent for a moment, then said, “Of course. I’ll connect you right away.”
I pulled onto the shoulder and switched on the hazards.
A moment later, a man picked up. “Good afternoon, Mr. Woods. I’m Dr. Sutton, the facility director. I understand you’re inquiring about your mother.”
“Yeah, and your receptionist told me she was discharged. Why?”
“Your mother checked herself out, Mr. Woods.”
“And you didn’t try to stop her?”
“We’re a rehabilitation clinic, sir, not a prison. Your mother was here voluntarily. We strongly advised her to continue treatment, but we couldn’t force her to stay. She chose to leave against medical advice.”
I rubbed at my temples, an ache beginning to form behind my eyes.
“How long ago was this?”
“About two weeks ago. It looks like multiple attempts were made to contact you about your mother’s departure, but all attempts were unsuccessful.”
“Christ,” I said under my breath. If I’d just answered my goddamn phone.
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
“Of course. Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Woods?”
“Did she happen to mention where she might be going?”
“No, sir. She didn’t provide us with that information.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.
“Alright. Thanks.”
I disconnected the call before he could reply.
“What do we do now?” Bambi asked.
I lowered my head to the steering wheel.
Either we kept pressing Mr. Dipshit Randall or we tried to track down Caroline. Neither one of those options was appealing in the least.
“I have no fucking idea,” I said, a sinking feeling forming in my stomach.
Caroline had been MIA for two weeks. Where the fuck could she have gone? She sure as shit couldn’t get into the apartment. Not anymore, at least. I had the locks changed the day after the junk guys had been there. She didn’t have any family locally to stay with, either, which meant she was probably crashing with one of her dealers.
More importantly, though, why hadn’t she shown her face?
The feeling in my gut only worsened.
Bambi’s hand smoothed down my back. “Let’s just go home, okay? Fuck Randall. Fuck Caroline. We’ll find another way.”
I turned to look at her. “Yeah.”
I sat up, turned off the hazards, and pulled back onto the road.
Chapter Nineteen →