The Good Daughter (The Good Daughter #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,178

statement. “Holy crap. Over three hundred grand.”

“Dad never had a client who got that kind of payout.”

Ben said, “There’s only one withdrawal last month, check number zero-three-four-zero for two thousand dollars.”

Sam said. “Normally the first check number in an account starts with triple-zero one.” She asked, “On what day was the last check written?”

“It doesn’t say, but it was cashed four weeks ago.”

“The second Friday of every month.”

“What?” Charlie looked down at the checkbook. “Did you find something?”

Sam shook her head. She closed the leather cover.

Ben said, “Not to go all Scooby-Doo and the Gang, but do you want to try the pencil trick? Rub the lead over the blank checks that were underneath the ones he wrote? Rusty was quite the bearer-downer when he had a pen in his hand.”

“That’s brilliant, babe.” Charlie stood to look for a pencil on the desk.

“We’ll need to get official copies,” Sam said. “A pencil rubbing won’t tell us anything.”

“It’ll tell us who he wrote the checks to.”

Sam held the journal to her chest. “I have several accounts with Bank of America. I can call them tomorrow and ask for copies. We’ll need to get Dad’s death certificate. Charlie, are you sure he didn’t have a will? We really should look for it. A lot of older people draw up wills, but they don’t tell their children.”

Charlie froze. She felt sweat break out on the back of her neck. A car was making its way toward the house. The familiar bump when the front wheel hit the pothole. The crunching of rubber against packed red clay.

Sam said, “That’s probably Stanislav, my driver. I told him to meet me here.” She looked at the clock on Rusty’s desk. “He made good time. I should find a box to put all of this in.”

Charlie said, “Ben—”

“I’ll go.” Ben walked down the hallway.

Charlie stood in the hall, tracking his progress to the kitchen. He looked out the window. His hand encircled the doorknob. Her heart did a weird trembly thing inside of her chest. She did not want Ben in the kitchen. She did not want him to open the door.

Ben opened the door.

Mason Huckabee stood on the side porch. He looked up at Ben, surprised. He was wearing a black suit with a blue tie and a camouflage ball cap.

Ben did not speak to the man. He turned around. He walked back down the hall.

Charlie felt sick. She ran to meet Ben. She blocked his way, her hands touching either side of the wall. “I’m sorry.”

Ben tried to go around.

Charlie held firm. “Ben, I didn’t ask him here. I don’t want him here.”

Ben wasn’t going to push her out of his way. He stared at her. He chewed the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll get rid of him. I’ve been trying to get rid of him.”

Sam called from the office, “Ben, can you help me pack this stuff?”

Charlie knew that Ben was too much of a gentleman to tell her no.

She reluctantly let him pass. She ran toward the kitchen, practically galloping down the hallway.

Mason waved to her, because he had a clear line of sight to the back of the house. He had the sense not to smile as she got closer. He said, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to be fucking sorry,” Charlie whispered, her voice hoarse. “I wasn’t bullshitting you about that restraining order. It’ll take me two minutes to blow up your entire fucking life.”

“I know that,” he said. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I just want to talk to you and your sister.”

Charlie ignored the desperation in his tone. “I don’t care what you want. You need to leave.”

Sam said, “Charlie, let him in.”

Charlie turned around. Sam stood in the hallway. She was touching the wall with her fingers again. “In here,” she told Mason, then walked into the living room before Charlie could tell her no.

Mason stepped into the kitchen without being invited. He stood inside the doorway. He took off his ball cap. He worked it between his hands. He looked around the room, clearly unimpressed. Rusty had not changed anything since the day they had moved in. The rickety chairs, the chipped table. The only thing missing was the air conditioner that had been in the window. There had been no way to get the pieces of Gamma out of the fan.

“This way.” Charlie scanned the empty hallway for Ben. The door to Rusty’s office was closed. Ben’s truck hadn’t left. He had not opened the back door. He