The Same Place (The Lamb and the Lion #2) - Gregory Ashe Page 0,31

shivered—the whole thing was a production, right down to the shiver, which she did by wrapping her arms around herself like she was on camera. “Princess, you always had such a sense of humor.”

“I want my money, LouElla. You ruined my life. You ruined my whole fucking life. And I can’t get most of it back, but I can get the money. I want it. Right now.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll call the police.”

“The DCFS money is long gone, and it wasn’t ever yours. It’s not like it was supposed to go into a piggy bank, darling. I spent it on food, clothes, haircuts, everything you needed. It’s very expensive, raising a child.”

“It’s not expensive when you fed us those shitty one-dollar Banquet meals and had two deadbolts on the pantry and a lock on the fridge so we couldn’t get anything you didn’t want us to have.”

“Many emotionally disturbed children have a hard time with self-control. They just eat and eat and eat.” She oinked. “Of course, you know all about that. I heard that Benny was practically glued to you after you got out of Decker. How do you keep him fed? Oops. Did. I heard about his accident.”

Something clicked on in the house—the AC, maybe, or an appliance—and a rush of white noise filled Jem’s head. “Don’t talk about Benny.”

LouElla smiled; another drop of blood glowed on her lip.

“I want my money,” Jem said. “The credit cards. Every fucking dollar you stole, you’re going to pay me back. Otherwise, I’m going to take this to the police. I’m going to claim identity theft. And that’ll be the end of you, LouElla. No more kids. No more cash cow.”

The ice clinked as she set down the glass. “Do you see any kids, Jemma?”

“What happened? Did someone finally realize you’re a heartless, money-grubbing bitch, and they took away the goose that lays the golden eggs?”

“Go away, dear heart.” She touched her temples. “You’re giving me a headache.”

That was an old song—a headache, a headache, you’re giving me a headache. Jem had a headache of his own, only it didn’t hurt so much as it felt like his head was expanding, like he was floating, untethered, and just about anything felt possible right then.

“You’ll go to prison. And then I’ll file a civil suit and take everything you have.”

Leaning across the marble, LouElla seemed to consider him for a moment. Then she laughed, and the drop of blood slid to the corner of her mouth, staining fine lines there that she had doubtless tried to plaster over with makeup. “Darling, you’re serious. This is fantastic.”

“I’m absolutely serious.”

“Well, I have bad news for you: I didn’t commit identify theft or whatever you were calling it. I’ve never taken out a credit card in a child’s name. Really, I’d have to be pretty stupid to try something like that, wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t bullshit me. I’m a better bullshitter than you ever were.”

“Jemma, the state would have been crawling all over me if I’d tried something like that. I was perfectly happy with my dear, dear children.”

“Your address was on the credit report.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Anyone could have applied for the cards. Another child, for example. Many people find it difficult to believe, but we do occasionally have a troubled child who can’t tell right from wrong. Or someone else could have done it and stolen the cards out of the mail. It was all so long ago, darling. I have a hard time remembering last week.”

“I know it was you.”

“Prove it,” she said, picking up the tumbler and rattling the ice.

“Fine,” Jem said. “We’ll do this the hard way.”

LouElla smiled at him and sipped her Diet Pepsi.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jem said.

“Then come a little closer,” LouElla said, her smile expanding, her fingertips white against the glass.

Jem’s ear stung. The corner of his eyes stung. His lips stung. He tasted blood from the cut on the inside of his cheek. He was thirteen again, and no one would believe him, the way no one had believed him then. His throat was hot and prickly and tight. Shaking his head, he took a step toward the front of the house.

“I could,” LouElla said, swirling the glass, the ice clattering, the sound the exact same from all the days and nights Jem had spent here. He’d forgotten how the bitch loved to swirl her ice. “I could hazard a guess, though. About who got those credit cards, I mean.