Family Ties (Flesh & Blood Trilogy Book 2) Read Free Page B

scattered all over his desk and even the floor. His bookshelves were lined with legal texts which I was sure he still referred to, despite the growing popularity of something called the internet. As soon as we took our seats and he sat down across from us behind his desk in a large maroon leather chair which enveloped his shriveled frame, he told us point-blank there was not much hope for Randy.
    He fit the FBI profile, Mr. Hayes told us. A middle-aged white male with an upper-middle-class family in the suburbs and a job that allowed him to be gone from home for days at a time. A man with above-average intelligence and a strong connection to religion. Not only that, but when he was questioned by police, he immediately invoked his Fifth Amendment rights and clammed up. He didn’t admit guilt, nor did he protest his innocence. He just zipped his lips and said nothing.
    B. Cecil Hayes had insisted on an insanity defense, should the case make it to trial, but Randy wouldn’t even speak to his own attorney. He never said word one to anyone about his charges. That was, until the day Mr. Hayes called to tell us it was Randy’s idea to approach the Commonwealth with plea negotiations. In exchange for taking the death sentence off the table, he would confess to all nine murders and accept whatever plea deal the prosecutor came up with.
    “Well,” Mom said, leaning against the marble kitchen countertop. “I don’t know. But there has to be a reason he confessed. Maybe he wasn’t coerced by the police. Maybe it was someone else. That’s why we need you.”
    “But how am I supposed to help him? I only just now got my license in the mail. I’ve never had a case on my own, so this is going to be my first one.”
    “You figured out who killed Ryan. You’ll think of something. Use your paralegal training. You’re very intelligent. If anyone can figure out what really happened, it’s you.”
    I didn’t want to remind her that the only way I’d figured out who really killed Ryan was because he’d broken into my house and confessed, right before trying to kill me too. “Thanks, Mom. But don’t you think we should hire somebody with more experience?”
    “No. Apparently your father wants you . I assume that’s because he doesn’t trust anyone else. I don’t think it ever even crossed his mind to try to clear his name until you told him you’re a PI now.”
    “I’ll do the best I can. I’ve already started researching all I can about the case.”
    And it would take a lot of research. I had purposefully avoided hearing or learning anything about my father’s case starting in the late nineties. I didn’t want to hear the gory details. Everyone around me, especially the kids in my small town high school, knew a hell of a lot more about my father’s case than I did. But no one, not even my handful of close friends, had the balls to ever talk to me about it. So I remained in the dark. A teenage ostrich with my head in the proverbial sand.
    “Is there anything I can do to help?” Mom asked.
    “I don’t know just yet. If so, I’ll let you know. For now, I just need a roof over my head and food in my belly. At least until I can find a place to rent.”
    “Libby, you don’t have to do that. There’s plenty of room for you here. Don’t waste your money.”
    Mom said this, I knew, as a politeness. She knew damn well I preferred to be by myself. And it was nothing personal. It had nothing to do with anyone else but me. Even when I was a kid, I never liked to spend the night at other girls’ houses. I always made up excuses, such as I’m not feeling well, I’m grounded, etcetera, to keep from having to pretend to enjoy sleepovers. It didn’t win me many friends back then and people thought it was odd now. I just enjoy my personal space, that’s all. Even when I met Ryan, and even after we were engaged, it took forever for me to agree to move in with him. I lied and said I wanted to be “traditional” and wait