Chapter 1
Rafferty did not keep reading.
Not yet.
His daughter was still on her knees on the patio, gripping the silver necklace so tightly that its chain had wrapped around her fingers.
He crouched immediately.
“Blythe.”
She looked at him.
“Did anybody hurt you?”
She shook her head.
“Did Grandma throw anything at you?”
“No. She threw Mommy’s box.”
Rafferty looked at Honora.
His mother’s expression had recovered.
That frightened him almost as much as the pale flash he had seen seconds earlier.
The Aunt—Rafferty’s younger sister, Cecily Mercer—was getting up from the grass with help from two stunned guests.
The designer box Rafferty had thrown at her had left a red mark across her forearm.
No broken bones.
No serious injury.
Still his responsibility.
Cecily shouted:
“You’re insane!”
Rafferty looked at her.
“I threw something at you.”
“You attacked me!”
“Yes.”
That answer stopped her.
Rafferty continued:
“And I’m going to deal with that.”
Then he looked at the necklace around her throat.
“But first you’re taking off my wife’s necklace.”
Cecily instinctively touched it.
“This belonged to Grandma.”
“No.”
Blythe spoke before Rafferty could.
“Mommy wore it in the blue picture.”
Silence.
Rafferty knew exactly which photograph she meant.
His late wife, Elise, standing beside Blythe’s crib wearing the Art Deco diamond-and-sapphire necklace now hanging from Cecily’s neck.
Elise had died twenty-two months earlier after an aggressive leukemia that took less than a year from diagnosis to funeral.
Her personal property had passed into an estate trust for Blythe.
Rafferty knew because he had signed the inventory.
Cecily’s necklace was on it.
He stood.
“Take it off.”
Honora intervened.
“Rafferty, stop making a scene.”
He slowly turned toward her.
“You threw my daughter’s jewelry box across a patio.”
“It was a family heirloom.”
“It belonged to Elise.”
“Elise married into this family.”
“And?”
Honora’s lips tightened.
“She treated Mercer property as though it became hers simply because your father indulged her.”
Rafferty looked at the paper in his hand.
“Is that what the country club is too?”
For the first time, Honora did not answer instantly.
That mattered.
Rafferty unfolded the page.
Across the top:
ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF AUTOMATIC CONVERSION AND BENEFICIAL ASSIGNMENT
The document referred to Briar Crest Country Club Holdings LLC.
It listed:
Bluebird Holdings LLC — 58% Class A membership interest.
Then:
Sole beneficial interest in Bluebird Holdings assigned to the Blythe Elise Mercer Heritage Trust.
Blythe.
His daughter.
There were three signatures.
Elise Mercer.
A lawyer Rafferty did not recognize.
And Honora Mercer.
Rafferty looked at his mother.
“That’s your signature.”
Honora folded her arms.
“It looks like my signature.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning your wife spent the last year of her life confused by medication and terrified about money.”
Rafferty’s face changed.
“Elise was never confused.”
“You weren’t with her every hour.”
“No.”
His voice became quieter.
“You made sure of that.”
The guests had become uncomfortably still.
Rafferty looked toward the country club security cameras.
Then at the paper.
Then at Blythe.
He made a decision.
“This party is over for us.”
Honora laughed.
“You think you can walk out with Mercer property?”
Rafferty lifted the velvet box.
“This was inventoried in Elise’s estate.”
“She was wearing family jewelry.”
Rafferty looked at Cecily again.
“So why is Cecily wearing it now?”
No answer.
He called his attorney before leaving.
Then country club security.
He asked them to preserve the patio footage.
All of it.
Including him throwing the gift box.
Cecily stared.
“You’re preserving evidence against yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
May you like
Rafferty lifted Blythe into his arms.
“Because I’m finished deciding that evidence only matters when it helps me.”
