my heart. “She was everything to me.”
He steps back to retrieve his half-finished glass of scotch from the wet bar.
“Just like you are quickly becoming for my son.”
Chapter Eleven
Before sending me on my way, Holt gives me the contact information for the nurse I need to see at the hospital. He clarifies that I can have my blood drawn for the paternity test anytime on Monday. The nurse will be available all day, and if I change my mind and decide not to go at all, that’s fine too.
Somehow, I don’t feel comfortable asking him the other question I had today, so I choose to save it for another time. He seemed so sad talking about my mom, like the wounds of her leaving were still so fresh after all these years, that waiting to ask him if he’ll help me start up the search again seems like the kindest thing to do.
I thank him again for everything he’s done for me and step into the hallway to text Poe.
ME: Done with your dad. Where are you?
THE ONLY DICK IN THE ROOM: Straight ahead to the first set of stairs. Turn right at the top. Door at the end of the hall.
THE ONLY DICK IN THE ROOM: P.S. I’m not wearing any panties.
ME: Oh goody, that makes two of us.
THE ONLY DICK IN THE ROOM: Well, now i’m starting without you.
ME: Okay, since you don’t need me I’ll just head home then.
THE ONLY DICK IN THE ROOM: Like hell you will. Get your ass up here so I can spank it.
The corners of my mouth tuck back in a grin, and I go in search of the stairs to the second floor. Once I find them, my eyes guiltily search the immediate area, feeling like I’m about to get my knuckles smacked for sneaking a cookie out of the jar. The coast looks clear, so I shush my inner good girl and climb the slightly curving staircase, listening to my footsteps echoing softly in the lonely silence of the house.
Just as I clear the last riser and take a right at the top, a feminine cackle comes from somewhere behind me, and my skin crawls. My feet immediately halt, freezing me in place, and I stare straight ahead for a few seconds before turning to face the source of the god-awful sound.
From the shadows of a doorway on the opposite side of the stairway, Eunice Halliday emerges. Dressed in a long satin robe, the perfect shade of deep emerald to compliment her mahogany hair and creamy skin, she tipsily sways her way toward me, a nearly empty martini glass her only accessory.
“Look who it is. Come to spread your legs for the ungrateful brat down the hall?” She tries to flutter her mascara-clumpy lashes in my direction while draining the remainder of her drink but ends up looking like she’s having a seizure instead.
Not wanting to take the bait, I bite my tongue and stare at the horrid woman still half-hidden in the shadows in front of me, trying like hell to keep my face expressionless and cold. We continue to eye each other, and when Eunice realizes I’m not going to give in, she seems to get bored with our standoff and changes tactics.
“You wouldn’t be the first whore he’s had, you know, and you certainly won’t be the last. Sooner or later, they all get tired of their toys and go looking for new ones.” She creeps a few steps closer, and as she comes fully into the light flooding this section of the hall, I can see how bloodshot her eyes are and how badly applied her makeup is—it looks like she put it on with a trowel, in the dark, and with her wrong hand.
Okay, this whole zombified, dead woman walking aesthetic she’s got going on is really freaking me out. Should I yell for Poe or stake her through the heart? No, wait, that’s vampires. How do you kill a zombie again? Fuck me, I should have paid more attention to Sally when she rambled on about The Walking Dead.
My dark sense of humor really does pick the most inopportune times to rear its ugly head, and before I can stop myself, I laugh out loud at my inner monologue. Eunice really doesn’t appreciate that, and she leans in close enough to either kiss me or bite me, her breath soaked in so much alcohol I’m surprised I’m not drunk just by being downwind of