Home Everlasting (Holliday Book 3) Page 4

  Tad sat down and opened his briefcase and took out a folder and slid it across the table. Clark opened it and found photocopies of Ricky's checkbook, with several checks made out to Clark. "Did you cash those checks?" asked Tad, taking out a notebook and pen.

  "No," whispered Clark, squinting at the checks. "Of course not. I've never seen these. You can check my bank. You can see my recent purchases. I've never seen these checks."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes," replied Clark, defiantly. "What do I need to do to prove this?"

  "Well, we can look into your bank accounts, transfers, purchases, perhaps check the local cash checking, pawn shops, whatever we can look into. But, this is the sorta thing that plants it into the jury's head that you did do it. This is the reasonable doubt that gets the momentum going for the prosecution to pin this on you," said Tad, exasperation and dejection seeping into his voice. "Just, do this for me again."

  "What?"

  "Clark, did you kill Ricky?"

  "No."

  Tad nodded. "Then I'm gonna work hard to get this all behind us. An innocent man isn't going to jail." He got up and collected his things, ready to head back out again. There was more work to be done for every one of his clients.

  Clark sighed and ran his hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair. "Before you go. Who is Honey?"

  "A pretty low level meth dealer. Prosecution tried to say he was bigger than that, but he's a bit of an idiot, and that wouldn't stick. But he served a little bit for petty theft. Some other guy he was after," said Tad absentmindedly. "Why?"

  "He said that Ricky had a lot of friends, and that everyone thinks I'm the killer."

  Tad froze. "Did he threaten you?" he whispered.

  "Implied, I think," Clark replied. "Is it real?"

  "Come on, I'll get you back to the cell, but try not to say anything more to Honey. Don't even look at him. I'm going to talk to Holt. Alright?"

  Clark nodded and got up, more frightened than when he entered the conference room. Tad quickly led him back to the cell, a deputy following close behind to open the door. He stepped inside and watched as Tad whispered to the deputy who nodded and led Tad to see the Sheriff. The cell and Clark’s hopes clang shut.

  Clark's life was getting more complicated by the minute, and none of it made sense. He wasn't the killer. He knew that, Holt knew that, Tad knew that, hopefully Lilith knew that, but now he could be targeted.

  He snuck a glance over to Honey, his filthy cellmate who had tipped him off, as he slumped against the side of the cell and took a nap. Perhaps he should be thankful, Clark thought. Maybe Holt could head off retribution at the pass. Or maybe he was doomed.

  He sat down on the mattress and buried his head in his hands, choosing instead to think of Lilith and their last moments together. Now, those last moments seemed like the last moments of happiness he'd ever have.

  ~~~

  Neederlander had sent a message to the house in the morning, detailing the plans for the day. He asked that Lilith, Mulreedy, and Marty be present at the storage lot behind Main Street at noon, sharp, so that he could dispense with business and then take his wife to lunch.

  The lot was dusty and completely barren of any life except the green-brown weeds that sprung from between the cracks in the concrete slabs between buildings. Neederlander wore an even rattier suit, this time the cuffs seemed to have been abused by a thresher or other abrasive, and stood in front of a unit, fumbling with his keys.

  Lilith parked nearby and walked over. "Marty and Mulreedy not here yet?"

  "Still got three minutes before it's time to arrive, Mulreedy will be here on time. Marty will probably be late," muttered Neederlander, without looking at his watch. He finally found the key, inserted it into a padlock, and unlocked his unit. He swung the door up and looked upon the splendors.

  The storage lot behind Main Street was always bigger than Lilith thought, especially considering that the 1500 square feet that Neederlander's unit occupied was repeated on either side for several more units. And, his was filled right up to the door, with very little room to maneuver.

  He threw his jacket over some dusty boxes and trudged through the mess. "My father at least left a little lane, but most of the stuff we're looking for will be way, way in the back. I think my grandfather was your great grandfather's lawyer. Kind of a generational thing, I imagine," said Neederlander. "Mulreedy should be coming up the lane now."

  As if by magic, Mulreedy's truck turned the corner and he hopped out. "How long you been here?" asked Mulreedy, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

  "Just a few minutes," said Lilith. "We've been talking about how his grandfather was my great grandfather's lawyer."

  "Yeah, I knew your grandfather Neederlander. Grandfather Neederlander. I remember meeting him," said Mulreedy.

  "Yeah?" Neederlander responded from the back of the unit. "He was a son of a bitch. And his organizational skills were always very lackluster. Lilith, have you met by boy? He's your age. Still single as well. You're single yeah?"

  Lilith gulped. This was going to be an awkward conversation. She decided to just ignore the question, move on, and hopefully Marty's arrival would change the topic drastically. "What was your grandfather's name?" she asked.

  "Everyone just called him Neederlander," said Mulreedy.

  "Everybody calls all of us Neederlander," said Neederlander. "And we were all lawyers. Family business. Family ties. Here it is!" He grabbed a box from way in the back. Unlike the boxes near the front, which were all cardboard, this box was made out of thin cedar and had a metal clasp. She could see rows of similar boxes stretching for several more rows, but she could see Holliday clearly etched on the top and sides of the box in Neederlander’s hands.

  The hinge opened with a heavy heave, and Neederlander started shuffling through the papers. He finally settled on some thin, yellowed, scraps and then looked up at Lilith. "You're still single, right? My boy's single. Could make a good pairing. Old Beartooth families."

  "Stop badgering her and get on with it," snapped Mulreedy as he lit another cigarette.

  "Be careful with that ash, this entire lot is full of paper," said Marty, appearing behind them and blocking out more sunlight from entering the dark unit. He wore a dark blue shirt tucked into his black jeans. Lilith could tell that he looked happier and more put together than the previous day. Hopefully he slept well, and hopefully not alone.

  "Ah Marty," said Neederlander. "We haven't met before, but I'm the Holliday lawyer. Your role here is going to be short, but hopefully you can execute the commands quickly. Also, get out of my light."

  "Commands?" Marty asked, moving to allow more light into the unit.

  Neederlander reached into his jacket and took out a piece of paper. "The stuff in this is from a long time ago, but I have to get Saul's will finalized and revised, especially with recent events. And apart of the will's revision is a request that he formally adopt you into the family, which will give you access to a small annuity payment from the ranch, as well burial costs upon your death. The full benefits package of becoming a Holliday is listed. But don't take it lightly. He wanted this for you. I think he loves you, kid," finished Neederlander, holding it out towards Marty. "You'll have to complete your set of papers quickly, unless Mulreedy can tell me that Saul is a superhuman and plans to live through whatever he's going through."

  "Don't be a dick," grunted Mulreedy. "My patient is fine and will continue to be fine, so help me god. And if you jinx this, and I lose my best friend, then I will end you myself."

  Neederlander looked at Mulreedy over his reading glasses. "You know that we're all going to die right?"

  Marty took the paper from Neederlander's hands before the argument could escalate. He was unsure how to feel about it, especially that it took Saul almost dying before he was even notified that Saul wanted him as apart of the family. And in such a significant way. An annuity didn't matter, Marty wanted to work the ranch for the rest of his life. I
t was the burial, the family rights, the adoption into the Ranch itself. It all meant so much.

  He unfolded the papers and began reading, noticing the spots where he and Saul would have to sign their names, and quietly hoped that everything would be okay and they could perform the ritual together. "If Saul dies, does this mean that I don't become a Holliday?" asked Marty, his eyes tearing up.

  "Technically there is nothing in that form that gives you access to the Holliday name," said Neederlander, still digging through the box. "It's mostly a rights and money sorta thing. And of course, my services. To answer the actual question, if Saul dies then we can draft a letter of intent and whatnot and perhaps Lilith can adopt you in some way, but it wouldn't be the same in totality. But I'm sure we could work something out."

  Marty nodded and sat down on the ground, letting the afternoon sunlight beat down against the back of his neck. If Saul survived, he would become a Holliday, in spirit and in familial rights, if not in name. It was a damn good feeling.

  "Here we go," said Neederlander, pulling a map from the cedar box. He unfurled it, carefully pulling apart any stuck edges. The map was old, brown, and crumbling in some pieces. "I haven't been able to completely authenticate the will that you gave me, but I had someone read it and transcribe it. The copy that you gave me has been sent off for authentication. However, it details some interesting tidbits."

  "Why am I here?" asked Mulreedy, looking down at the map. "I'm not a geologist."

  "We'll get to you in a moment," said Neederlander. "First, this will. It's an interesting will. It states, for instance, that it was Holliday's wish that the ranch never leave familial hands. That there would always be a Holliday there to protect it, to fund it, and to care for it."

  Lilith ran her hand through her hair. It was an official decree from an ancestor: when her father died, she was never to leave the ranch ever again. She was the caretaker. Life, history, heritage, had chosen her. She looked to Mulreedy to see if she could ask for a cigarette, but then decided against it. She, at least, had to be a doctor who cared for their health. "What's the map for?" she asked, scanning it, trying to put the familial pressure out of her head. "That's clearly the ranch."

  "Yes. And here," he responded, tracing lines through the mountains. "These are the mine shafts, and the colored areas are where they planned on mining." He looked up at her with a solemn face. "Now, as your lawyer, I must advise you that the mining operations that you great grandfather undertook did great damage to the ranch, and this map is a testament to that. Overlay this map over the groundwater aquifers and you have a very sad tale indeed."

  "Then, what are you showing me?"

  Neederlander took off his reading glasses and chewed on one end. "Well, if the will is true, Holliday believed he had found a vein of gold in this mountain. We still have to figure out where the body was found, remove it, and whatnot. But according to the will, he said there's a vein of gold, here," he finished, pointing to a spot in the mountains, near one of the mine shafts.

  "Why didn't he exploit it?" asked Marty, peering over Lilith's shoulder.

  "He was nearly broke by the time he went missing and was presumed dead," said Lilith. "But then again, you found his body. He could have been murdered there or something."

  "We won't know the specifics of that until we look at the body," said Mulreedy. "Although I've never done an autopsy on a corpse that old."

  "And that leads to the second point and reason for you being here," said Neederlander. "Saul has named you executor over his estate, until Lilith chooses to take over the ranch. So you will need to sign off on the removal of the body, then perform the autopsy, and then decide on the day to day operations and whatnot."

  Mulreedy stared at Neederlander, unsure how to respond. Saul, his antagonistic best friend, had named him executor over his estate. The thought didn't register in his brain. "So, I'm gonna have to call Holt?" he said, nervously.

  "Yeah, that's a good first step. Or tell me to take care of it," said Neederlander.

  "Alright, then you take care of it," said Mulreedy, lighting another cigarette.

  Neederlander closed the box. "I think we're done for today. I'm gonna stow all of this away. You folks can leave now." He nodded at them and disappeared into the storage unit.

  Lilith looked at Mulreedy, whose shock was carved into his brow, and then to Marty, who was bathing in the sun, probably happier than she'd ever seen him.

  As the gang went their separate trucks and drove off, her thoughts turned to Aggie, and the horrific moment when she learned that her father had disappeared. It wasn't a moment that Aggie had talked a lot about in her diary, but it was a moment that must have changed her forever. Perhaps losing her father was when she became the hard frontier woman. Perhaps it was losing her older brother and adopting his kids. It was all very confusing.

  But as Lilith turned out of the storage lot, she thought about the dreams of the pink dress, the dreams of Clark, and the possibility of a future reality without her father. What kind of woman would she become?

  ~~~

  Lilith pulled out onto Main Street, ready to go home and figure out what she was supposed to do. Perhaps she'd sit in her father's office chair and read his files, oversee the boys in the field, or just wander the ranch, looking for things to do.

  But as she passed by the Sheriff's Office, she slowed down and stopped in the middle of the street. The sun's glare was too bright and made it impossible to see inside, but she could feel some kind of paranormal energy drawing her towards it. She wanted to go inside, she wanted to see Clark, she wanted to see if the connection was still mutual.

  She could remember his hands running over her body, grasping her breasts, pulling at her thighs as she connected with him physically all those days before. It had just been a few days, but it felt like years, eons, since they'd been together.

  It wasn't fair. None of it. Her father's ailment, the lack of choices about what she could do with her life, the way that her great grandfather just chose her future for her without even knowing who she was, and now she couldn't even be with the man she had fallen for, even as his own future was uncertain.

  His eyes were bright in her memory, his hair fluffy and upraised against his scalp as her hands rummaged through his hair, her breasts against his bare chest, the idle chest hairs tickling her nipples. It was the memory of the physical connection that brought back, that made real, the emotional connection. Some folks, she remembered, thought that sex was the glue of a relationship. She didn't know if that was true, because for the first time sex was just as emotional as everything else.

  Thankfully there was no one behind her, waiting for her to move her truck, as Main Street never really got that busy. But she finally pulled the truck into a space in front of the Sheriff's Office, readying herself to go inside and see him. Readying herself to perhaps say goodbye to him, because he would be gone forever, whisked away to some prison cell where he would rot until the end of his days.

  And that was the worst part, knowing exactly where he was, and still not being able to be with him. And he'd know exactly where she'd be too. She slammed her hands against the steering well, tired and angry, alone and sad at the world. The choices for her future had weighed her down for so long, and now some of it wasn't even a choice anymore.

  Her father had called it a birthright. Her great grandfather had decreed it an expectation. Her future was no longer in her hands, because she was staying in the mountains and looking after her familial property until she died. Maybe that's what made Aggie into a hard woman, knowing that she didn't have a choice in her life.

  And Marty was happy. She envied him. A lot. To become a Holliday was the greatest honor to him, and yet how could he understand how much she didn't want it anymore. She didn't feel like she wanted any of it anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes and freed themselves down her face as she gripped the steering wheel. She gripped onto it as if her life depended on it, even as the truck was stationary in its parking spo
t.

  There was only one thing to do. Only one thing that would make her feel better about it all. She needed to see Clark. She needed it. She needed to be held, even if for a moment, to know and feel that there was someone else in the world who cared about her. Not about the ranch, not about the future, just about having a moment with her.

  She'd have to make Holt free him for a moment. She'd make him understand how much she needed some privacy.

  She got out of her truck, slamming the door, and walked into the Sheriff's Office. The door handle was cold against her skin, even as the sun raged down from above. She needed to see Clark, and god help her, she might even ask him to marry her.

  It was her life. It was all her life, and in that moment she knew she had to take charge of it. Because, otherwise, everyone would walk all over her. Including a ghost grandfather from the past, rearing his head, molding her life in his image.

  She nodded at the deputy at the desk, then walked right past. She was a Holliday, and it was time to start acting like it. No more shying away from what she wanted or how she wanted it done. For better or worse, she was a Holliday, and she was going to control the moment.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Sheriff Holt, smoothing back his graying hair, put his Stetson on the dash of his cruiser, and adjusted the rear view mirror. Some young deputy had asked to borrow his car and he had foolishly obliged. He didn't even know the kid's name yet. There were so many young kids that became deputies and then moved onto bigger and better things, usually with the Montana State Troopers. Very few of them, himself included, ever elected to stay where they were born. He looked at himself in the rear view, reminding himself that he was a rare breed.

  The deputy had, thankfully, returned the car to him with a full tank of gas. Holt had spent the morning, working through lunch, lecturing young kids at the high school to stay out of trouble. He doubted any of them would actually listen to him, seeing as the number of them that wound up back home, not going to college, and for some reason getting into drugs instead of finding stable employment, seemed to be rising. It was a troubling phenomenon, but he did his best to bring in several former inmates, as well his other deputies to show the kids that they did, in fact, have choices.