Safe Harbor (The Lake Trilogy, Book 3) Read online

  Chapter 1

  I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve never wanted someone to die as much as I do Gregory Meyer.

  It’s been 18 days since Holly Reynolds shot Will’s father on the steps of the federal court building. Too many days for whatever is keeping him alive – because it certainly isn’t a heart – to stop functioning and rid the earth of the most treacherous man I’ve ever known.

  Of course, even in his final days he has everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. I don’t know how, but even in the ICU he’s managed to make the entire staff cater to his every unconscious need. Private room, fresh flowers every day, doctors for whom he is their only patient.

  My best guess during those first days had been that his minions from Meyer, Fincher, and Marks were seeing who could kiss ass enough to make partner when he woke up. But Luke told me, and I wasn’t surprised by it at all, that Meyer knew he would be targeted by those he had challenged so he had an extremely detailed living will explaining who was to do what, right down to the fresh peonies.

  Luke has been in touch with the hospital administrator, a good friend of his, right from the beginning. Meyer was immediately sent to surgery and his injuries were explored. They cleaned out the wounds, breathing a huge sigh of relief that the bullet lodged close enough to the surface of his head that they could get it out without any problem. He’s been on a ventilator since then, intimidating people from his comatose state.

  Luke went back to Davidson a few days after the shooting to see Holly. He’s representing her, pro bono of course. He kept waiting for Meyer to flat line before he went, but it was taking too long and he wanted to get to Holly before anyone else could. There are enough attorneys in five states who would love to defend the woman who put an end to Meyer’s reign of terror, bringing relief to any attorney who had the misfortune to be his opposing counsel. Luke is adamant, though, that there is no way he’s letting any of them near her. Luke has been commuting between Davidson and Tallahassee for weeks now, and I imagine he’ll be on the next flight out today.

  The poor girl has been waiting for over two weeks to know if she’s facing murder charges or not. I suppose she went into this prepared to face murder charges. Nobody would shoot Gregory Meyer just to injure him. The objective would definitely be to kill. To leave him alive would only open the doors to a worse fate than if Satan himself came after you.

  I haven’t seen a lot of Will since the day of the shooting. During these last 18 days Luke and Will have had at least a dozen closed-door meetings. Day after day Will has walked in the front door of the house, kissed me briefly, and made a beeline to Luke’s office. He hasn’t even looked back as he’s closed the door to the office behind him. We’ve barely spoken when we are together, both consumed with making sure Eliana is alright, although Wes is doing a great job without us. We haven’t had a date in I don’t know how long, and I can’t remember the last time Will really kissed me. I miss Will and the absence of him has me questioning the future of our relationship again.

  Everyday new information has come out about what a horrible man Gregory Meyer was. Evidence has been leaked and the news is happy to report it. Some of it is Eli’s that had been corroborated by Luke and Wes. Some of it is news to all of us. As new evidence comes to light, more people have been speaking out on Holly’s behalf, supporting her for ridding the world of such a tyrant.

  I’m happy the truth is finally being revealed. That people who had once lived in fear of Gregory Meyer are now free and making public proclamations of it. All I can think, though, is that I was finally coming into my own and now it’s all being overshadowed, once again, by Gregory Meyer. I had just been fitted into my mother’s wedding dress when Meyer was shot, and now I’m not even sure if I’m ever going to get to wear it.

  It didn’t take long for me to start hating Holly for creating such a mess, even though I understand her motive. With jurors conveniently dying and disappearing off the face of the earth, it was starting to look like Meyer would never be made to pay for his transgressions. I think I always knew that I’d live to see the day an attempt on Gregory Meyer’s life was made. I just never thought it would be by Holly. But after Meyer drove Marcus to the breaking point, it seems Holly wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

  As the days have dragged on I’ve become increasingly frustrated. I’ve done my best to push aside my growing hatred toward Holly for the upheaval of my life she’s inadvertently caused, and tried to be supportive of Will, understanding that despite the turmoil of their relationship, Will watched his father get shot on national television. My overwhelming sense of unfairness has been taking over, though. I thought the days of keeping things from each other, even with the purest intentions of protecting the other one, were over. Will’s silent insistence on keeping me out of the loop is devastating.

  As understanding as I’ve tried to be, the fact still remains that I’m Will’s fiancée and as such should be privy to Will’s meetings with Luke.

  When I woke up this morning, I made a decision to do something a little childish, but I have to get my point across. I’m sure I’ll regret it later, but not enough to stop me. Enough is enough. I have to get my point across to those men.

  “So what are we talking about today, boys?” I ask, sauntering into Luke’s office as if I had been given a royal invitation, dropping myself onto the luxurious leather chair next to Will.

  “Layla…what are you doing?” Will’s face scrunches with confusion.

  “I’m tired of being treated like I can’t be trusted with information. So…what are we talking about today?”

  “I understand your need for information, Layla, but you don’t need to concern yourself,” Luke says in that protective-father voice he likes to use to calm me down. What he doesn’t realize is that I’m perfectly calm and not going anywhere.

  “How does what you two have been meeting about not concern me? Isn’t the idea behind marriage that you become one with the other person?” I say, letting my irritation rise to the top of my voice earlier than I planned.

  “Honey, there are a several different scenarios we’re trying to work through,” Will starts.

  “Like what?” I ask in retort.

  “Like…” Will begins but hesitates. I stare at him, hoping to convey my deep hurt at having been ignored since his father was shot. That whatever they’re trying to figure out does concern me because everything about Will’s life concerns me. “What if my father dies? How long does he stay on the ventilator? When does the plug get pulled and who has the authority to pull it? What if he makes it through but is a vegetable? Any of these circumstances would mean that we can go back to Davidson. We’re just trying to figure out what the plan would be,” Will explains.

  “So, let me get this straight…you two are in here trying to decide how to ease us back into a life in Davidson should Gregory Meyer die or end up with turnips for brains. This would involve me transferring to another college and moving away from the life I’ve been building here. Tell me again how I don’t need to concern myself.”

  “There will be questions about where my mother and I have been, and why we left. The press is going to hound us. They’ll want answers and I don’t want you to worry about that. I’m just trying to protect you,” Will says, taking a step toward me. He reaches his hand out to take mine but I step back and pull away.

  “No, you’re underestimating my ability to handle things like you always do. If this is what our life together is going to be like, maybe this isn’t the life I want.” I storm out of the office and make my way straight to the dock, not knowing or caring if Will is following.

  I sit at the edge of the dock feeling proud fo
r having asserted myself, and embarrassed that I didn’t just pull Will aside and have a normal conversation with him. I know I have to apologize to him for how I handled the situation, but I will not apologize for how I feel. Will and I have been through too much for him to still think that he has to protect me from everything. I know he’s still shaken from the danger I put myself in when I connected with Marcus behind his and Luke’s backs, but when is he going to learn that I’m a big girl? Haven’t I proven that I can handle whatever life throws me?

  “I’m sorry,” Will says as he positioned himself close to me on the dock. “I should have known that you would want to be involved.”

  “Yes, you should have. I don’t understand why everyone thinks I’m some fragile little girl. I’ve been through so much already. What do I have to do to prove myself?” I say to Will, hoping to communicate my frustration and hurt with one single look.

  “That’s just it, Layla. You’ve been through enough already. When will you let go and just allow yourself to be totally taken care of? I spent too long not being able to do that for you. Do you know how hard it was not to be able to protect you, the one person whose job it is for me to defend? I made choices that lead to keeping my hands tied, forcing you into a position of having to take care of more than you should have.” Will cups my face and stares into my eyes to drive his own point home. “I’m sorry I didn’t include you, but I’m not sorry for my reasons why. I finally have the opportunity to protect you in a way I never could before. Please let me do that.”

  I consider what Will has said, knowing that keeping me out of the loop was rooted in his love for me, his desire to protect me. I imagine he knows better than I do what the press is capable of, but there has to be a happy medium.

  “I get it. I do,” I sigh. “I feel like we take three steps forward and two steps back. We are never going to survive if we don’t stop thinking the other is incapable of handling life. If we don’t truly start working as a team…I don’t think we’re going to make it, Will.” I feel defeated, like somehow we should have this down by now but we’re failing miserably.

  “Don’t say that! We will make it. We are making it. I’m sorry that I didn’t involve you. I promise, from this second on, I will not keep anything from you…if you promise that you’ll let me take care of you. That’s all I want to do, Layla. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” I smile and nod, and we seal our promise with a sweet kiss. “Did you really mean what you said about not being sure if you want a life with me?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I was just really frustrated. I kept waiting for you to fill me in, letting me be there for you the way you are for me, but it never happened. Then I felt like it passed the point where I could ask. I guess we’re all still in shock and acting a little out of character. How are you doing?”

  “Surprisingly well, actually. I think I might feel differently when he dies though.” Will shakes his head, seeming to clear that thought from his mind.

  “He might pull through, you know,” I say in an attempt to comfort him. I don’t tell him what I’m really thinking, which is the thought of his father surviving is scarier to me than anything. He’ll go after Holly, which I’m sure will somehow send him looking in our direction. Regardless of how cut off he has always been from his father, I don’t tell Will that I wish his father would die, and die quickly.

  “Layla, he’s not going to make it. Luke said the doctors told him Holly would definitely be facing murder charges. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “Oh,” I say, not knowing really how to respond, but glad I don’t break out into a happy dance because that would be in ridiculously poor taste.

  “Listen, I don’t want to talk about my father dying. There’s more involved to my meeting with Luke. Do you still want me to tell you?”

  “Yes, but first, I’m sorry I didn’t just pull you aside and talk to you,” I tell him.

  “It’s ok, Layla. I understand why you were upset. I should have kept you in the loop.” Will pulls me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me, melting away all of the frustration I had been feeling.

  “So what else is going on?” I ask.

  “Well…it turns out Dad never changed his will.”

  “What?” I furrow my brow trying to comprehend how Gregory Meyer could have been so neglectful as to not change his will. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow. What’s your mom going to do with all that money?”

  “She’s not going to do anything with it. It’s not hers,” Will says with almost a tone of sadness in his voice.

  “If it’s not hers, then…”

  “He left everything to me. There are even instructions on how I’m to decide how my mother spends the allowance I’m supposed to give her. I guess he assumed by the time he died he would have groomed me into the man he expected me to be. It’s so gross.”

  “Well, then…what are you going to do with all that money?” I ask, thinking Will might have some great philanthropic idea. Surely Will has some grand plan to use his father’s money for good, even if just to make Meyer turn over in his grave.

  “Nothing. I don’t want it,” he says with disgust.

  “What do you mean you don’t want it? How could you not want it?” I remember that Will and I had a conversation about his disdain for wealth during our wonderful Day of Nothing. A smile crosses my face as I recall the other activities besides talking that filled that day and have to redirect my thoughts before they get out of hand. Will has never been interested in the monetary legacy that belongs to him. Had his father not been so manically focused on dollar signs, Will may have grown up to feel differently. “Don’t you think you deserve it after everything he put you and your mother through?”

  “It’s blood money, Layla. Not a single dime of it was earned with any legitimacy. The law was broken and lives were destroyed. I can’t take that money.” Will’s face is hard, pained even. Time has not healed the wounds his father using money as a weapon caused.

  “How much, Will?” I ask because I want to know how far down the mental list of all the good that could be done with it I can go. I also have a feeling that the amount of money Will is set to inherit is playing into the weight he’s trying so hard not to carry.

  It takes Will almost a whole minute before he answers me, and even then it isn’t a complete answer. “Nine figures.” He sounds almost ashamed.

  I silently gasp. I knew Will’s father was insanely wealthy, I just didn’t know how insane it was. Nine figures. Wow.

  “Then do something great with it, Will. Do something your father would have never done. Start a scholarship. Start a hundred scholarships! There are dozens of non-profit organizations that are on the brink of going under because they don’t have the funding. Find the families he screwed over and help them with it. Keep what you think we need, and give the rest away, or give it all away. I don’t care. I just think it would be a waste to let it sit there, or go back into the firm, just because it’s dirty. You can make it clean, Will.”

  “I…I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’ve been so perplexed as to why he wouldn’t have changed his will when as far as he knew we were dead. Then it pissed me off that he left it to me and not my mom. He treated her like crap for years and then she doesn’t even get anything in the end?” Will sighs, showing his heavy heart. “I don’t want to hate him, Layla. It’s hard not to, though, when even after he’s dead and gone he’s still disrespecting my mother.”

  “I understand. But…you know you have to forgive him. He’ll keep you trapped in the hate that filled his heart if you don’t forgive him and let it go. I think there might be some extra floating lanterns in the garage.” I smile and stroke Will’s face thinking about the night I was able to let go of all the pain and unforgivness Gram had planted in me. It was a night of sweet release that Will, Luke, and Claire orchestrated in an act of pure love for me.

  “Thanks. That
’s not a bad idea.” Will kisses me and reciprocates the sweet touch on my cheek. “In the meantime, Luke and I were also trying to figure out the best way to explain about mom and me ‘dying.’ I never thought we’d be going back, so I never thought of having to explain myself to anyone.” Will is changing the direction of our conversation as a means of not having to talk about the feelings associated with his father. We process things similarly in that we both have to take some time in our own heads before we can really articulate anything. If we don’t take that time, we end up a crumpled mess of tears and unintelligible rants.

  “So…we’re definitely going back?” I ask. I don’t mind going back to Davidson, but no one has asked my opinion and I hate that the decision has been made for me.

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Because we’re building a life here? We’re getting married in a few months…here. And what about school?”

  “We’ll finish the semester and then move back. It’s only eight weeks,” Will answers as if the solution is an obvious one.

  “I’m supposed to finish the semester, pack a house, move, and plan a wedding all in a three month time span? Will, honey, you’re delusional. There’s no way! Something will have to give.” I sigh heavily, not knowing just how heavy, and feel the sting of tears starting. I don’t want to cry, but the thought of trying to pull everything off is immediately overwhelming.

  I don’t understand why there is such a sense of immediacy in moving back to Davidson. Will has been gone for over a year, and with Holly’s impending trial I don’t see the need to add more drama to the situation. We could at least wait until after we get back from our honeymoon, letting Luke handle everything in Davidson between now and then. There will be time to finish the semester, get married, and then move back to Davidson if he really wants.

  I ponder this thought and start to see the benefits of moving back to a Davidson as I realize it’s no longer silently run by a devious manipulator. I think about how the newspapers might read a little differently now that they’re free to print the truth about Meyer, possibly recanting stories and setting them straight. I think about how the air might even smell differently, and the crowd at the Concert on the Green might actually intermingle now that there won’t be such heavily drawn lines.