Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (132 page)

Assured
of
the
information
as
soon
as
it
came
in,
William
disconnected
the
call
and
began
watching
the
clock,
comparing
it
with
the
speedometer.
Twenty-five
miles
per
hour
on
a
two-lane
curvy
highway
was
slow
enough
to
ensure
he’d
be
insane
if
he
ever
reached
the
turn
off
to
Brant’s
Corners.
Thankfully,
at
the
turnout
half
way
there,
the
truck
pulled
in
and
turned
back
toward
Fairbury
, and
William
whizzed
down
the
road.

The
station
was
still
abuzz.
What
few
news
vans
weren’t
camped
out
at
Aggie’s
place
seemed
anxious
to
hound
the
Sheriff
and
his
deputies.
Megan’s
voice
greeted
him
before
he
could
shut
the
door
behind
him.
“Got
a
call
from
Judge
Vernelli
about
Aggie
and
her
stalker-in-law.”

“Good
one.
What’d
he
want?”

“Agreement
that
the
order
should
still
stand
and
for
all
of
them.”

William
frowned.
“There
was
doubt?”

“She
let
it
lapse
.”

There
was
no
arguing
with
that.
It
did
look
bad.
“What’d
you
say?”

“I
reminded
him
that
she
hadn’t
had
the
kids
for
a
full
year
yet
and
without
seeing
the
woman
or
having
trouble
with
her
thanks
to
the
restraining
order,
it
was
probably
the
last
thing
on
her
mind
what
with
educating
them,
planning
a
wedding,
and
feeding
everyone.
I
also
pointed
out
that
with
Ellie
being
missing,
things
could
get
very
ugly
with
the
woman
and
we
don’t
have
the
resources
to
search
for
a
kid
and
fend
off
a
dragon.”

“You’ve
got
spunk;
I’ll
give
you
that,”
William
said,
shaking
his
head.

“Hey,
it
worked.
She
should
be
served
before
nightfall.”

“Good.”
William
glanced
at
the
stack
of
papers
on
his
desk.
“Financials?”

“Yep.
She
goes
every
winter
just
like
you
asked.”

Dejected,
he
sat
down
and
began
reading.
Just
as
everyone
else
had
surmised,
every
year’s
expenses
seemed
a
carbon
copy
of
the
previous
year’s.
There
was
something
horribly
predictable
about
it
until
he
realized
that
the
same
could
be
said
of
his.
“Remind
me
to
tell
Tina
I
need
more
spontaneity,”
he
muttered
to
himself.

“What?”

William’s
head
jerked
up.
“Did
you
say
something?”

“No,
you
did.
Something
about
spontaneous.”

“Oh,
nothing.
I
just
noticed
that
everything
seems
terribly
predictable
here—nothing
spontaneous
about
this
trip.
She
goes
every
year.
She
does
the
same
things
in
every
month
of—”
He
flipped
the
papers
back,
circling
hotel
dates
on
each
year’s
pages.

“What
is
it?”

“She
went
in
January
this
year.”

“So.”

“So,
she
usually
goes
in
early
to
mid-February.
Look!”

Megan
obliged
by
getting
up
to
see
his
stunning
discovery,
but
she
seemed
skeptical.
“
Ok, the woman
doesn’t
think
she’ll
feel
much
like
a
vacation
the
week
of
the
first
anniversary
of
her
son’s
death.
Can
you
blame
her?”