“Charlene, I thought you weren’t one for idle chit-chat.”
“Quite so.” She chuckles, but there is no humor behind her laugh. “Finn quit football.”
“He did?” I stutter my eyes beginning to bug out of their sockets.
“Yes. I know my son never wished to pursue it anyway, but the way it all came to an end was unfortunate, at best. You see, Richfield University makes sure to test all its players on occasion to prevent any scandal, should one of them test positive before a big game. After all, it’s the university’s reputation on the line.”
“What does that have to do with Finn quitting?”
“Everything, darling girl. Finn tested positive for steroid use.”
“That’s impossible! Finn wouldn’t do that,” I holler again in outrage, this time not caring about the audience around me.
“My thoughts exactly. I know my Finn. My son may live on another plane of existence with his mind constantly focused on the stars, but he has always been responsible in fulfilling his duties. Football being one of them.”
“He’s not a cheater,” I add with all the conviction in the world. “I know Finn’s heart wasn’t set on going Pro, but he would never cheat.”
“Unfortunately, Dean Ryland and my husband believe more in a piece of paper than the word of my own son.”
“But you don’t believe it.”
“Do you?” she asks, her eye narrowing on me to gauge my response.
“No, I don’t.”
“Good. Neither do I,” she replies with a relieved smile on her lips. “So tell me Stone, if you think my son is incapable of committing such an act, would it also be possible he didn’t do what you are accusing him of?”
I play with my tongue ring, deep in thought, putting together all the sinister pieces of a game I didn’t even realize I was playing.
“Someone is trying to hurt him. But who?” I conclude at last.
“Such a clever girl.” She smiles broadly. “The minute I met you, I knew you’d be good for him. Finn needs someone who is grounded and can think clearly within the fog. But I think the better question is not who, dear, but why?”
I give her a curt nod, thinking if we find out the ‘who,’ then the ‘why’ will reveal itself sure enough.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Honestly, I just want to make sure Finn is alright and being looked after, more than anything else.”
“What do you mean? Aren’t you looking out for him?”
“My quick-tempered husband kicked Finn out of our home a couple of weeks ago.”
“Let me guess? Because of football,” I quip, my nose flaring in disgust.
“Yes.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Charlene, but your husband is an asshole.”
“None taken, dear,” she says with a light chuckle. “I know exactly the kind of man I married. But I also know, despite his faults, Hank loves his boys, even if he has a funny way of expressing it. Not three days after Finn had left our home, my husband began brooding all over the house, latched onto photo albums of when Finn was a child. My husband will never admit it because of his pride, but he knows he’s wrong. However, their relationship is for them to repair. My only concern is my son. Anytime I try to bring up the subject of him coming back home, he dismisses me.”
“Finn’s a grown man, Charlene. He can handle being on his own.”
“Not if someone is toying with his life. I’d rather have him under my roof than at the Hamilton Estate,” she adds, sounding distressed at the idea of her son being at the deceased governor’s home.
“He’s with Lincoln Hamilton?”
“He is. Lincoln has always been like a brother to my Finn, so I understand why my son took refuge with him. Although I love Lincoln dearly, I don’t want Finn to be in that house for longer than necessary.”
“Why? If they’re friends, close to brothers as you say, then Finn is as safe as he can be.”
“No one’s safe in that house.”
I swallow dryly, my skin beginning to crawl from the look of dread in her eyes and the cryptic statement that fell from her quivering lips.
“What do you mean by that?” I question, but she still seems locked away in the thought that is troubling her. “Charlene?” I probe further, but when she looks up, her bright mask is suddenly in place once again as she orders fresh fruit and a quiche for us.
“So, can I count on you to have a word with my son? To bring him home?” she asks, completely disregarding my previous question.
I give her a tight nod, my apprehension still heavy on my shoulders.
There’s more to this story than she’s willing to tell me. I just know it. If I want answers or any kind of enlightenment, I guess there is only one place where I can get them—the Hamilton Estate. The very place Charlene Walker is so adamant in keeping Finn away from.
The minute I leave Magnolia, I drive through town with Finn’s mother’s words still loudly ringing in my ear, trying desperately to make sense of it all. I pull at the jumbled strings, a ball of baffling chaos, but with each thread I stretch, there are only a few certainties laid out for me—the most flagrant of them being that Finn would never take any illegal substances to improve his game.
Finn’s love for football was limited, so if he wasn’t any good on the field, it would give him the perfect excuse to not go Pro. Sure he was willing to postpone his dreams of being an astronomer just to appease his father, but to take performance enhancing drugs is just not something Finn would do. That is the action of someone who wants to have a big NFL life, and he didn’t. I know that much.
So, could his mother be right in all her conclusions?
If someone fabricated his guilt just to ruin his chances of going pro, could that same person try to sabotage his love life, too? I’ve been so focused on blaming Finn—thinking he intentionally ruined my plans of going to New York just to keep me here, afraid that somehow he would lose me if I left Asheville—that I never considered an outside force being responsible for it. But what if there has been someone out there all along, intent on making sure Finn loses everything in his life that is important to him?
His football career.
His home and family.
And me—the girl he was falling in love with.
Some things are still not adding up, though. If someone is making Finn’s life miserable, and if he wasn’t the one communicating with Watkins & Ellis on my behalf, then why not tell me? Why didn’t he defend himself when I blew up in his face? I saw the look in his eyes when I accused him of it. The guilt embedded in those stellar, crystal blue eyes was clear as daylight. If Finn wasn’t the one behind it all, then his guilt tells me he knows exactly who is. And if I want to find out, then there is only one person who can give me the truth, and that’s pretty boy himself.
I quickly go to my dorm room and pick up all the things necessary for my interrogation. After I have everything in my book bag, I haul ass out of there, pushing my truck to the limit, to get me to Linc’s mansion, which is now known in most of Asheville as ‘The House of Horrors’ after all the deaths that occurred there.