The Call from Prison
Almost a year after the wedding, Evan Pike requested to speak with Lucas.
Lucas initially refused.
Then changed his mind.
He asked me to come.
We sat behind thick glass in a federal visitation facility.
Evan looked ordinary.
That unsettled me.
No villainous smile.
No cold stare.
Just a tired man in prison clothes.
He picked up the phone.
Lucas did the same.
Evan looked at him.
“So you’re the groom.”
Lucas’s jaw tightened.
“What do you want?”
“To tell you something about Rebecca.”
“Jennifer.”
Evan smiled faintly.
“She always hated Rebecca.”
Lucas said nothing.
Evan leaned toward the glass.
“Nathan made her hate herself.”
I listened.
“He told her Rebecca Pike was poor,” Evan continued. “Stupid name. Trailer-park name. Victim name. Jennifer Vale was supposed to be different.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you think she targeted you for money.”
“She did.”
“Yes.”
Evan nodded.
“But money wasn’t the main reason.”
Lucas glanced at me.
Evan continued.
“Nathan wanted something from Ashford.”
“What?”
“Revenge.”
“We know.”
“No.”
Evan smiled without humor.
“You don’t.”
My stomach tightened.
“He didn’t want your mother’s money.”
Lucas leaned closer.
“What did he want?”
“He wanted her dead.”
I felt the world narrow.
Lucas went pale.
Evan continued:
“He wanted Rebecca close enough to the family to make sure Margaret didn’t survive long enough to change anything.”
I grabbed the phone beside Lucas.
“What are you saying?”
Evan looked at me.
“You’re Richard?”
“Yes.”
“Nathan believed Margaret was responsible for his life falling apart. He thought if she died while Rebecca was married to Lucas, the boy would inherit enough control to dismantle the company.”
My mouth went dry.
“Nathan wasn’t a businessman,” Evan said. “He was obsessed.”
“Did Jennifer know?”
Evan hesitated.
That hesitation terrified me.
“Know what?”
“He talked about speeding things up.”
“How?”
Evan looked at Lucas.
“Ask investigators about the supplements.”
Lucas stopped breathing.
I understood nothing.
Then suddenly I remembered.
Jennifer had given Margaret supplements during chemotherapy.
“Natural immune support.”
Imported.
Expensive.
Margaret had taken them for almost two weeks before her oncologist told her to stop because they could interfere with treatment.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What was in them?”
Evan leaned back.
“I don’t know.”
“Did Jennifer?”
He stared at me.
“I never said she did.”
“Then who?”
“Nathan packed them.”
