Hayden (A Next Generation Carter Brother #4) - Lisa Helen Gray Page 0,49
answer, and the only reason I stay, is because this girl might be fragile, but she’s screaming for a distraction.
“I’m Hayden Carter. I’m looking for Rita Jones,” I tell her, cringing when my thoughts are confirmed.
Her face pales, her bottom lip trembling. “She—she passed away last week.”
Fucking hell.
Sucking in a lungful of air, I move a step forward, taking her by surprise when I hold her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t know. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. Did you know my nan?”
“I—I, um.” I pause to gather my nerves. I can’t lie to this woman. She’s already going through enough. She deserves my honesty. “I didn’t personally, no. I’m friends with someone who is looking into the murder of the reporter that came to ask Rita some questions about the break-in.”
I badly want to ask how her nan died, but the timing seems morbid. It can’t be a coincidence that two people connected to the break-ins have died.
“I read about that in the paper. Do you think the two are connected?”
“They aren’t sure. I’m just backtracking her footsteps before the murder,” I partially lie.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know this is a lot to ask, but could me and my cousin,” I begin, pointing to my car, “come in? I’d like to ask some questions about the night of the break-in.”
Her eyebrows scrunch together. “I don’t understand. My nan already gave the police a statement.”
“I know. I’m just wondering what she saw that night that made Christina come here to ask questions.”
She looks back into the house, before nodding. “There’s not a lot I can really tell you. But yes, you can both come in.”
I stop myself from jumping with glee when I remember she’s lost someone.
“I’ll just go get my cousin.”
“All right. Let yourself in, I just want to go sweep some glass up. I’m Beth, by the way.”
I give her a nod before walking back down the path, waving Charlotte over.
She gets out, grabbing the hamper from the backseat. I wait for her to shut the door before locking the car.
“Everything okay?” she asks, reading my face.
“Rita passed away last week. Her granddaughter is there.”
Tears brim the edge of her eyelids. “That poor girl. She must be really hurting. It still hurts when I think of Nan and Granddad. And I bet they didn’t want to risk telling her dad in case he took a turn for the worse.”
I pull her in for a side hug, careful not to knock into the tea hamper. Losing Nan and Granddad had been hard on all of us. They were the heart of the family and we all truly felt their loss.
“They went together and weren’t in pain,” I remind her, knowing it was the only saving grace of their death. They weren’t alone. It doesn’t change how much we miss them, or how hard it was to move through our grief, but it does help. “And let’s not mention the dad in case it brings up more bad memories.”
“Let’s see if there’s anything we can do to help. She’s probably going through one of the hardest parts of losing someone.”
I look up at the two-storey bricked house, sighing. Charlotte’s right. When we cleaned out Nan and Granddad’s, it was tougher than the funeral in some ways. It truly felt like a goodbye. None of us wanted to give or throw away anything that belonged to the two most important people in our lives. It felt like we were erasing them. It wasn’t odds and ends, it was their life. Where we grew up. The only saving grace during that whole ordeal was we knew we wouldn’t have to watch someone else live there.
“Come on,” I tell her, leading her up to the door and letting us in.
“I’ve put the kettle on,” Beth announces, stepping into the hallway.
I look around the small hallway with stairs leading up. The beige walls have lighter marks where pictures used to hang. The green patterned carpet is lighter where furniture used to be. I look at Beth once again, seeing nothing but sadness.
I feel guilty for being here, for intruding on such an emotional and dreadful time.
“We got your nan this, but, um, we didn’t know…” Charlotte trails off.
“Is that earl tea?”
Charlotte beams. “There’s lavender in there too.”
“My favourite,” she tells us, before she loses her smile. “My nan’s too.”
“I’m Charlotte,” she greets. “Did you want me to put this in the kitchen? It’s kind of heavy.”