บททั้งหมดของ Solid Gold (Unseen Enemy 8): บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

“I – I what?” Claire managed to get to her feet, her legs shaky beneath her. “I don’t –”“Harry Burns. My father.” “I’m sorry,” Claire faltered. “I don’t know who that is.”“Of course you don’t.” Leeza spoke slowly. “He gave every penny of his savings and pension to you and your husband, and he lost it all… his life’s work, his future, his house. You took it all from him, and he lost hope.”“And he – he died?” Claire said, horrified.“He shot himself in the head.” Leeza’s words were slow, precise. “He killed himself because of you.”“No!” Claire shook her head. “No! I didn’t –”“You did. Oh, you sure as hell did. You swanned around without a fucking care, just watched while your husband stole from decent, hardworking Americans, and then you took your fucking platinum card and went and bought another goddamn designer purse. Yes, you did, Claire.”“No –”“OK, that’s it,” Griff snarled. “Look, Leeza, I get that you’re upset, alright? But this investigation is over. Claire wasn’t part of

Six weeks laterGriff had been to Canada before, of course, but he’d never been this far east. He was practically in the damn ocean.He walked down the main street, his collar turned up against the wind whipping off the Atlantic, wondering why the hell the woman always picked the coldest damn places to live, looking for what he’d been told was the last café in town…. and the only one that he hadn’t checked out yet.He spotted it now, crossed the street. He paused outside, giving himself one final pep-talk, preparing himself for what was definitely not going to be a warm welcome. If she started throwing coffee cups at him, Griff wouldn’t be even slightly shocked.He opened the door, stepped into the warmth. It was busy and bustling and no surprise, because it was just past eight a.m. on a Wednesday. There were people grabbing takeout coffees and pastries as they headed off to work, and there were mothers with kids in strollers, and there were students gearing up for their day of classe

She had shrugged, starting to feel the beginnings of a crunching whisky hangover, reminded herself to grab the aspirin from the bathroom. “Tell him that you put me in a taxi to the airport, and that you don’t have a clue where I went from there.”“Will I know?” His dark eyes had been so soft as he’d looked down at her. “Will you tell me where you end up?”“Will you tell him, if he keeps coming around and asking?”“Never,” Cole swore, and she’d believed him. “Never, babe. Not unless and not before you say it’s OK for him to know.”She’d heard the crunch of tires in the snow outside, and she’d seen that the taxi had arrived. She picked up her backpack – the bag that now contained her entire life in a whole new way – and turned to Cole.“That’ll never happen, Cole,” she’d told him, and it hadn’t been a lie then, and it still wasn’t a lie now. “I’ll never say that John Griffin is to know one damn thing about me after today.”“Got it, sweetheart,” he’d said. “Take care. You get in touch wh

Four months laterThe day of Beth and Jim’s wedding dawned unseasonably cool and rainy, but the forecast predicted sun by the afternoon. Not that they were especially worried, since obsessing about the weather was just about the last thing that they cared about. Besides, Beth for one was focused on something else to worry about.She stood in the bride’s changing area in the back of the church, trying hard not to fuss with her hair. It was a losing battle, though, since it was tied back in an incredible French plait… and that was probably the one hair style that Beth had never attempted back in her days of changing her hair color and length and style every two weeks. It was the most beautiful that her thick, curly locks had ever looked, and she was wondering if she could actually pull off its elegance.“Seriously, Beth.” Olivia rolled her brown eyes, and deftly stepped aside as Frankie crawled towards her, his fingers caked with gummy cracker crumbs. “You look gorgeous. Stop fussing.”

Jim Alden was a hard man, a man who didn’t say much, a man who pretended to not feel much. He’d perfected the art of self-defence through pushing down on the softer emotions, and he’d gritted his teeth and gotten through the aftermath of Afghanistan by denying anything and everything that he’d seen and done there.It had worked like a goddamn charm. Sort of. It had also kept everyone away from him.Until Beth, that is. She was the one woman, the only woman, that he’d been unable to stay away from, and in return, she’d healed him in ways that he’d never thought possible for him. She’d taught him self-forgiveness, and she’d taught him the courage and beauty of never really moving past a thing that had happened. Because of Beth’s struggle to live with what had happened to her, Jim now understood instead of fighting to forget a bad thing, he needed to let it become a part of him… a stronger, more compassionate part.He’d learned that from all the women, actually. Emma, Liv, Jenny, Cordeli