The Sister-in-Law by Pamela Crane (best books to read in your 20s .TXT) 📕

sidewalk. At the end of the plaza was a gluten-free, soy-free, taste-free bakery, so I figured I’d pick up a muffin for Harper and then hit the donut shop to grab a cronut for myself. I wasn’t done trying to make amends with Harper, no matter how much I wanted to give up. And the baby insisted on sugar and starch, so sugar and starch I would give her.

As my sandals smack-smacked along the sidewalk, a movement in my peripheral stopped me mid-stride. I glanced behind me, sensing eyes watching. Observing. Idling in the parking lot was a black car, sitting in the middle of the road like it was waiting for someone. I couldn’t tell the make or model; I was no automotive aficionado. My knowledge of cars was as basic as my knowledge of tools: black car, white truck, hammer, unbolt-thingy. The only screwdriver I was familiar with was one I could drink.

By the time I reached the no-taste bakery, the car had drifted forward along with me, but the reflection of sunlight on the window cast a glare I couldn’t see through. I thought I caught a glimpse of aviator sunglasses through the glass, but I couldn’t be sure. First, the sighting at the mall. Now, a vehicle tailing me. All signs pointed to a Harrison Ford action movie.

It wasn’t until after I slipped into the bakery, bells on the door jingling as it slammed shut, that the car slowly rolled past. The driver turned his head toward me, I could see that much, but his face was hidden beneath the sunglasses. I was slammed with a sudden sense of familiarity as the incident at the mall revisited me.

Noah. He must have found me.

I didn’t want a cronut anymore. I wanted to survive. Survival was a battle, one I knew how to fight, because I had been training since the day I left home. I wasn’t afraid of Noah anymore; I was afraid of what he brought out of me.

Chapter 26

Harper

‘What do you mean there’s another name on my husband’s life insurance policy?’

With my hand giving my phone a death grip, nothing the insurance agent said made sense. I had called to get an update on the status of the funds, just in case they were able to start processing the check. It was wishful thinking, I know, but worth a call. I didn’t expect to find out that I was the recipient of only half of Ben’s policy.

‘There are two benefactors listed for the policy, ma’am.’ I could tell that the girl on the other end of the line was losing her patience with me, but I was losing my patience with her as well. None of this made sense.

‘Who is the other benefactor? One of my children?’

‘I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to say.’

I didn’t know why this hadn’t come up before. It was infuriating! Not only did the life insurance company make me chase them down for my entitled payout, but then they wouldn’t release the information on who was on the policy.

‘Please, I’ve just lost my husband a year after we lost a child and I’m only trying to get our finances in order. Can you just bend the rules this one time and tell me which of my children is on the policy so that I can start trying to get my family taken care of?’

The lady inhaled in my ear, and her voice grew soft with sympathy. ‘I’m so sorry for your losses. But my hands are tied.’

There had to be a way to get this woman talking. All I wanted to know was who my husband was giving half of my money to – our kids’ money, their future.

Could it be the same person Ben had created a bank account for? I couldn’t pull the name from my memory; it was a strange name. Not one I’d ever heard before. I had written it down somewhere. In my purse, maybe?

‘One second,’ I told the agent, stalling while I rummaged through my purse contents. The crinkle of an envelope told me I’d found what I was looking for. I re-read the name I had scribbled on my to-do list during my chat with Detective Meltzer: Medea Kent.

‘Is the other beneficiary Medea Kent?’

‘That’s correct, ma’am.’

Medea Kent. Medea Kent. Her name kept popping up everywhere like a bad case of whack-a-mole. Who the hell was Medea Kent? And why was she listed on Ben’s policy? God help me, was this his mistress? Did he have the balls to leave his lover half of the life insurance policy that belonged to me and his kids? We were his family, for crying out loud! Unable to wrap my brain around what all of this meant, I tried to slow my thoughts.

Smell a flower, blow out a candle. But it didn’t work. I was flooded with a mix of confusion and anger and sadness. How could Ben have done this to me, betraying me all over again from beyond the grave? I couldn’t handle another secret; I was sure this one would break my back.

‘Are you still there, ma’am?’ the lady asked hesitantly, pulling me out of my hysteria.

I wrote Who is Medea Kent? on the paper where I had been jotting down notes from my call with the insurance agent.

‘Oh, um, yeah. Can I also verify that the address you have on file is correct? We just recently moved so I wanted to check on that.’

I heard her fingers tapping a keyboard, then a minute later she spoke. ‘Yes, ma’am. I have Summer Lane listed as your primary mailing address.’

Summer Lane? Why did that sound familiar? Opening the envelope, inside was the scrap of paper with the address 3 Summer Ln written in Ben’s print.

‘Yep, that’s the right address.’

Beneath Medea’s name I wrote 3 Summer Lane? Closing my eyes, I found my breath again. My thoughts stopped whirring just long enough to catch a thought. I needed to know who this Medea was,