Kat sat at Harry’s kitchen table, amazed at the difference in her uncle. Gone were the blank stares, the shuffling gait and the forgetfulness. It was a miracle.
There was an explanation, though she still had a hard time believing it. The poison’s effects had mimicked the symptoms of dementia, resulting in Harry’s Alzheimer’s misdiagnosis. Harry never had dementia after all.
Sure, he was forgetful sometimes, but no more than any eighty-year-old.
Now, after a week in the hospital, the poison had been purged from his system. Harry had bounced back quickly, though he didn’t remember much of the last few weeks and months. His recovery was nothing short of amazing.
Kat glanced at the stack of seed catalogues that sat on the table. Harry was planning next year’s garden and even getting back in touch with his lawn-bowling buddies.
“Hillary’s got a new job, Kat. Out of town.”
“Good for her,” Kat said, wondering how much of this story Harry actually believed. Or wanted to believe, because the alternative was unthinkable.
Of course Kat had bought into plenty of Hillary’s lies herself over the years, wanting to give Hillary the benefit of the doubt. But now she saw her for what she really was. A parasite.
Amazing, Kat thought. Harry’s financial nightmares began around the time his dementia symptoms started. Kat had naturally assumed his delusions and forgetfulness were from the dementia, as had Harry’s family doctor.
In retrospect, Harry’s health had spiraled downward quite suddenly. When Kat cancelled his credit cards and confronted the bank, she exacerbated the situation. It cut off Hillary’s source of money. His health decline hadn’t caused his financial mess; it had been the other way around. In her efforts to protect Harry, Kat had conjured Hillary up out of the woodwork.
Harry was idealistic, refusing to believe that his own daughter was taking advantage of him financially again. He kept believing her excuses and gave her money; each time sure she would extricate herself out of her current mess.
“One egg or two?” Harry retrieved the egg carton from the fridge and slammed the door.
“Two.” When the money stopped, Hillary returned, this time with a more desperate attempt to liquidate Harry and his assets.
“Orange juice?” Harry held up the carafe.
While Harry didn’t remember a lot from his months of hell, Kat was certain Dr. Konig had mentioned the doctored orange juice. But she couldn’t blame him for refusing to believe his daughter had tried to poison him. That was a truth too painful for anyone.
“I think I’ll pass.”
Harry turned to Kat. “She’s just a bit reckless, Kat. She’ll learn.”
Even now he was making excuses for Hillary’s behavior. But what else could he do? To think it was premeditated was too much to consider.
Kat said nothing. She was distracted by noise coming from the front of the house.
“Be right back.” She rose from her chair and padded into the living room. As she got closer to the window, she saw a figure bent down in front of the Porsche.
Her heart stopped as the hood of Hillary’s Porsche jerked forward. Hillary had returned for her car, despite the restraining order prohibiting any contact with Harry.
Kat braced herself. Why was Hillary violating the terms of her restraining order after only one day? She was already in enough trouble—charged with attempted murder and fraud. The police had charged her, despite Harry’s protestations. Now it was up to the courts to decide her fate.
Kat flung the door open, anxious to intercept her before Harry did.
Only it wasn’t Hillary.
The tow truck lifted the front end of the Porsche.
Kat ran outside. “You can’t tow that car—it’s parked legally, and there’s no ticket.”
“Sure I can. The bank’s repossessed it. Overdue payments.”
“Oh.” Kat backed away as he hoisted the car. One way or another, the fraud would be unwound and sorted out. At least if the finance company towed it, it would be locked up securely and safe from Hilary. And the payment notices would stop. “Have a good day.”
The tow truck driver smiled back at her. “Now that’s something I don’t hear too often.” He gave her a thumbs up and hopped into the truck cab.
The tow truck pulled away from the curb, pulling the Porsche behind it.
Kat watched the truck ascend the hill. Finally it reached the top, to where the hill touched the sky, where the world tipped away.
The morning sun glinted off the Porsche’s bumper momentarily as it crested the peak. Then it slowly dipped below the horizon and disappeared.
This time, she wasn’t the one running away.
******
Did you love Game Theory? Get Blowout, the next book in the series here
Or check out all of Colleen’s books here
