Better (The Change Series Book 2)

  BETTER

  Book 2 in The Change Series

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  Better- September 2016 by Melanie Jayne for Big Dog Publishing

  Publisher’s Note

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Any mistakes are the author’s own. I sped up the process for healing- this was intentional and fictional.

  For Jennifer Natali

  The day I met you, there were rays of sunshine surrounding you. Over time, the sun faded…

  Now is the time to get it back.

  The road will have bumps but that makes the journey sweeter.

  BETTER

  Sometimes if you want to see a change for the better,

  you have to take things into your own hands.

  Clint Eastwood

  Chapter One

  “Damn it, Nora, slow down.” I had a death grip on the car’s “oh shit handle” above the door as my crazy aunt made a tight right turn into the National Bank’s parking garage, barely missing the back end of a pickup truck. Thank God the tallest building in Indianapolis’s parking garage only had five floors.

  “I don’t want to be late. Willie had to pull strings to get us this appointment,” Nora said, turning her head to look at me.

  “Watch it!”

  She barely missed clipping a sedan that was trying to pull out. My aunt, who was near sixty, had an even older boyfriend, Willard Stearns, whose name she’d turned into a cutesy pet name by adding an “ie” to the end.

  I let out a loud sigh.

  “Shit, we could have gotten his spot.” Nora accelerated. “I’ll just zip around and get it.”

  “Just take one of the empty spots along the far wall,” I said, gritting my teeth. “It’s not that long of a walk.” Plus, I needed to get out of her car before I hurled.

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Marley. I, for one, care about what’s happening to you.”

  Thankfully, she pulled into a spot, and the ride from hell ended. I briefly closed my eyes and counted to five. “I know you do, Aunt Nora, and I appreciate it. It’s just…this is a big deal, and it’s going to cost a lot of money.” I couldn’t help the pleading tone in my voice. Hiring a private investigator was a big deal, and the people that worked at Forde Limited didn’t mess around. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to do something, but I hated that I was dependent on my Aunt, again.

  Nora adjusted the rearview mirror so she could check her make-up. Appearances were very important to her. She made annual trips to a spa in Chicago and came back with fuller lips and tighter skin. Norma plumped her chin length auburn bob. The hair color was outlandish for her age, but when you took in her yellow peasant blouse and bright blue, tiered maxi skirt, plus the turquoise necklaces that she had wrapped around her neck, well somehow it all worked. She had a big personality, and her fashion choices worked for her. “The cops aren’t doing anything to help. Willie says that Lucas Forde can put an end to this. He’ll find out which one of them hurt you and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  That was the problem. We all knew the recent attack on my friend Zoe and I was somehow tied to my husband’s murder. For the thousandth time, I wished I could wake up from this nightmare.

  Just six months ago, I’d watched a man shoot my husband by our front door. In that moment, I became a widow, a witness, and a born-again realist.

  Nora sighed. “Marlena, let’s go. We don’t have all day.”

  I gave myself a mental shake, and my aunt, a stilted smile then opened the car door. I obediently followed Nora. I was still so caught up in the memories of that awful night I didn’t notice that we’d taken the elevator down to the building’s lobby. There, we exited and walked to another bank of interior elevators.

  “I’ll do the talking,” Nora said, straightening her shoulders. “I know how these types of men are. You sit, and if I need you to add anything, I’ll ask you.”

  “I don’t know about that. I mean I don’t want to look stupid,” I mumbled as we exited the elevator on fifth floor. Or weak, I wanted to add. I needed to pay attention or Nora would paint a picture of me not only being a victim but an idiot. There were only two offices listed on the marquee: one a law firm and the other our destination, Forde Limited. I followed Nora into a nicely appointed office. The walls were cream with dark cherry wood furnishings, and the carpet was thick. The entire package screamed expensive. I fought the urge to tuck my pleather shoulder bag behind my back. The receptionist behind the enormous, polished desk was a striking blonde who was tapping on a tablet. So busy, she didn’t look up as we entered. My brain tried to estimate how much the furniture alone cost; it had to be more than I made in a year.

  We stood at the desk for a few moments. Nora dropped her clutch purse in the shape of a cat’s face onto the desk. I hoped that the button that made up the feline’s nose didn’t leave a mark on the glossy finish.

  Finally, the gate-keeper looked up and seemed surprised to find us there.

  Nora announced our arrival, and we were told to take a seat. I chose a very nicely cushioned wing chair that faced a lovely photograph of the Circle City’s skyline. I tried to prepare myself for this meeting. I could recite the events of what I now thought of as “my story” without my voice breaking or any terror-induced chills traveling up and down my spine. I was desensitized to my husband’s murder. This new attack… Well, I wasn’t so practiced at talking about it, so I hoped I could get through it without having to pause to get my emotions back into check.

  Honestly, I hadn’t had time to think about my feelings too deeply. Scrambling to find a place to live and to survive on a part-time cashier’s pay kept me plenty busy.

  The receptionist stood. “Ladies, if you’ll follow me, Mr. Forde will see you now.”

  Nora and I gathered our purses and lined up behind the woman as she sauntered toward a doorway at the far end of the reception area… She tapped on a keypad then pulled on the door handle. It wouldn’t open. She tried it again with the same outcome.

  I was starting to wonder if I should suggest that she call for somebody when the door swung open. A tall man stood in the space. Or I should say the man filled the entryway. He was over six feet with shoulder-length dark hair. He had olive skin and full lips—I don’t know why I noticed that, but I did. He wore a black polo shirt and jeans. The jeans looked like they were old and soft. He was frowning at his receptionist.

  “Oh, Mr. Forde,” the receptionist said with a nervous giggle. “I guess I haven’t quite caught on how to work the door.”

  His eyebrows lowered, and his eyes flashed at her. I felt like everything in the room froze for a moment. We all watched the man. “I guess that was thirty minutes of my day wasted on training.” He dismissed her by turning his attention onto us.

  She ducked her head and quickly returned to her desk, and I almost felt sorry for the woman. If he gave me that look, I would probably pee myself.

  Mr. Forde’s indigo gaze slid over Aunt Nora, and then me, as if he was memorizing every physical trait we possessed. “Ms. Basey and Mrs. Shephard, if you would follow me?”

  His voice was deep, and although he phrased it as a question, his words were c
learly an order. Something that in other circumstances might have been irritating, because I typically shied away from arrogance. Somehow his glare, his tone…they made me believe he was not only competent but he might be a superhero. He wasn’t being a dick; he knew that he was that good.

  Still, for a split second, I considered turning and making a run for it. Standing in this man’s presence made me feel alive. I wanted to laugh hysterically at how stupid I was being. I needed to be numb. That way I couldn’t be hurt any more. Within thirty seconds of seeing Mr. Forde, I felt things and that scared me.

  We followed him down a long corridor. He paused at a door and motioned us inside. As I passed him, our gazes met, and he smiled. Could he tell he’d unnerved me? Was he amused that he could have that effect? And dear God, he had a great smile, white teeth and full lips. Well, to be honest, he had a nice everything as far as I could see.

  My heart hammered in my chest. This was going to be bad. I was admiring him when I should be thinking about how he could help me. If he would help me? I felt my face warm, and I’m sure it was beet red. I didn’t have a lot of experience with men like this—hot and so confident. I mean, at The Blue, a sports bar where I used to waitress, I brought guys food and drinks and sometimes laughed at their jokes, but I’d never met someone so masculine and in control. I dropped my gaze to the floor. I had the sinking feeling that the dangers surrounding me had just grown exponentially as I walked into Lucas Forde’s office. I silently prayed, Dear God, please don’t let me do anything stupid.

  Chapter Two

  The photos in the file didn’t do Marlena Shephard justice. In person, her eyes were greener and her hair was longer and darker than the light brown I had expected. She was five and half feet tall and built on the generous side, with lots of tits and ass. She’d done her best to conceal her curves under baggy pants and a generous-sized knit shirt as though she wanted to hide the fact she had a womanly body.

  For a second, I thought she was going to turn and run. I flashed a smile. I wasn’t going to eat her, yet.

  But she straightened her spine and walked into my office, but not before I saw the flash of panic in her eyes. For a split second she had weighed her options. The good news was that she didn’t cut and run.

  Once the ladies had taken their seats in front of my desk, I made my usual, cursory offer. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”

  I would pour the drinks myself since Gina most likely wouldn’t be able to operate the door, again. She was our third receptionist in two months, and I knew I’d soon be looking for a fourth. Luckily, neither lady was thirsty. Now onto business.

  “Mrs. Shepherd, I understand you’ve run into some trouble.” I hadn’t missed the slight swelling along her cheeks and nose. She’d tried to cover the bruising under her eyes, but if one knew what he was looking for, it was there. I pushed down the burst of anger that ran through my gut. I continued studying the woman who had taken a blow to her pretty face.

  “Marlena and her friend were attacked on the street, and the police haven’t caught the bastard,” Ms. Basey told me. “She has enough problems; she doesn’t need another. I can barely sleep for worrying about her.”

  I barely contained a grunt of irritation. The aunt thought she was going to run the show, skewing the information to her point of view, which started with how she had been affected. I’d only agreed to talk to them to repay an old marker. Apparently, Willard Stearns was involved with Ms. Basey, and I always repaid my debts. I turned my gaze from the aunt to Mrs. Shepherd. “I’m aware of your husband’s murder, and you have my condolences.” I waited for Mrs. Shepherd to look at me. She’d been studying her shoes since she’d sat down.

  After a moment, she met my look and nodded. Then those bottle green eyes returned to her shoes.

  I wanted those eyes looking at me, dammit. She was an intriguing mix of demur and inner strength, I wanted to push to see how she would react. “Do you believe the attack was linked to the other case?” I watched Mrs. Shepherd as I waited for her response.

  “Of course it is,” Ms. Basey said, waving a dismissive hand.

  Again, I ignored the aunt. “At any point during the attack, did the man say anything about your husband, Mrs. Shepherd?”

  Mrs. Shepherd raised her head, blinked once slowly, then met my gaze. But I read resignation in her eyes. “He said, ‘Bitch, you gonna pay.’ Then he grabbed Zoe’s arm and threw her to the ground.” Her breath hitched, her chest lifting the loose fabric of her Emtee’s Travel Plaza shirt. “I mean, she’s pregnant. Who pushes a pregnant woman to the ground?” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple as if it had started to ache.

  “And then he punched you in the face?” I had read the report, but I wanted to hear her description.

  “I took a step toward Zoe to see if she was all right. It all happened so fast. He was on me. He had his arm around my waist. I kicked his leg, not his knee, but it must have hurt a little, because I got free for a second. Then he jerked me around by my shoulder and punched me. I fell back against the passenger door of Zoe’s car. I hit it so hard that it set off the alarm, and he ran off.”

  I studied her throughout her description of the assault. Not once did she touch her face, nor did she sound that upset. She spoke in a monotone, like she was tired of telling the story.

  I didn’t like it. I never liked it when a woman was attacked, but something about her recitation got to me. It was like she’d accepted that she should be hurt.

  “Since the murder, have there been other threats or events? Any strange happenings around your home that made you feel uncomfortable?” I knew the answer, but again, I wanted to hear from her.

  “No, not really. I’ve moved, and I now live in a different part of the city,” she said, again without emotion. However, she didn’t let her gaze drop.

  Ms. Basey leaned forward to add her part. “I put her in one of my houses. Not only am I a realtor, but I also flip houses. She’s living in one I’m renovating.”

  Her insistence on being noticed was almost amusing. Ms. Basey had been dying to speak. Mrs. Shepherd frowned at the interruption and her aunt. She continued, “I drive to work taking different routes; I park in front of the house or behind it, but I always check before I walk out the back door. My mail isn’t delivered there. Sometimes, I take the bus. I vary my routines.” She paused as she crossed her legs. “Sure, I worry that somebody can get to me, but…” She finished with a shrug.

  “But what, Mrs. Shepherd?” I was curious what was going on in her head. I’d seen this kind of disconnect with abuse victims, but today, my gut was unhappy to see this particular woman in such a state.

  Nora gripped the arms of her chair. “It would be stupid for one of the Cancerberos to kill her. She’s already given her interview and deposition on video.”

  Thankfully, she didn’t realize that the reason that the prosecutors had recorded her was that she might be too dead to testify at the trial.

  Finally, I asked her the one question I’d been most curious about after reading through her file. “I know that you were offered police protection. Why aren’t you taking advantage of that?”

  This time when Marlena answered, anger flashed in her eyes. “I need to work Mr. Forde. If I’m locked up in some extended stay hotel or some tiny apartment, I can’t work. If I can’t work, then I don’t have any money.” Finally, her composure cracked. “I have to go on, so I need to work. I can’t sit around in delay mode until all of this is taken care of. I have to be doing something.”

  She pursed her lips, maybe trying to control some deep emotion. There were no tears; her hands weren’t shaking. Without knowing her better, I couldn’t get a read on what was going on in her head, but clearly she was a fighter. I liked that about her. “Your husband didn’t provide for you?” Again, I knew the answer.

  Her upper lip curled. “A junkie doesn’t really think about anyone or anything except their next fix, or so I’ve learned.” S
he started to rub her nose, and then jerked at the touch. “We were upside down in our mortgage. Luckily, the bank was willing to take possession if I agreed to move out quickly. Brian had cleaned out our savings and left only a few dollars in the checking account. I sold almost everything to cover expenses, but I still need regular income.” She thrust out her chin when she was finished as if she dared me to judge her.

  “That’s why I gave her a place to live,” Ms. Basey added. “You know, to help out.”

  “I pay you rent, and I oversee the workmen,” Mrs. Shepherd said through gritted teeth.

  I gave the older woman a sharp glance. “You are her father’s sister?” The relationship was unclear from the basic information Jennifer had pulled together. Marlena Shepherd hadn’t had much family support growing up. I was curious as to why Ms. Basey was stepping up now.

  “No,” the woman shook her head. “Her mother was my sister, but we didn’t get along, and after she died, poor Marley had no one. So I took it upon myself to reconnect and help her.”

  I waited to see how that went over with her niece.

  After a moment’s pause in which Mrs. Shepard uncrossed and recrossed her legs, she elaborated, “Growing up, my mother estranged herself from her family. She claimed to have no idea who my father was, so there was no one to turn to there. After her death, Nora was the only one who wanted anything to do with me.” She didn’t meet my gaze. “She has helped out a lot.”

  I didn’t like this. Marlena Shepherd was too exposed and too beaten down. I had assigned the case to another investigator, but now, I wanted to work it. She was a good, hard-working woman who was a victim of circumstance. The fact that she was gorgeous didn’t have a thing to do with my eagerness. Really.

  “You don’t think the attack could have been directed toward your friend, Mrs. Alessi?” I had to ask the question, just to be thorough. The police clearly didn’t think so.