“Riley took a dump, and I’m not cleaning it.”
Jacob went green. There was no other word to describe it.
Handing the baby back to him, she saw Charlotte laughing. “I knew I was going to have fun when they had children of their own.”
She saw the humor. As much as she hated the thought of leaving, Ruby really had to. She wanted to start looking into her family’s murder, and start looking for answers elsewhere.
“Can you take me home?” she asked.
Oliver nodded. “Sure. If you want to leave.”
“I do.” She looked at Maddox, knowing they were listening to her. “My old home. Is there any way for me to get inside? Have a look around. Do I even own it still?”
“It’s still there. We had it cleaned up a bit, but it’s been vacant for ten years.”
“I’d like to go and have a look,” she said.
“If you’re hoping to find something, we hate to disappoint. We searched that place, looking for any clue as to who killed your brother,” Abel said.
“I bet there were a few hiding places that you didn’t look. Lionel, he, er, he didn’t trust a lot of people. He once told me that I was the only person he could trust with his life.” She took a deep breath. “He told me where to find stuff if I needed it.”
“It can’t hurt to try,” Oliver said.
“Then, by all means, we’ll take you.”
“Can we go later today? I want to go home, change, get some stuff,” she said.
“Sure.”
“Excellent.”
Following Oliver out toward the car, she felt better, more focused, ready to take on the world again.
Climbing into the car, she told Oliver her address, and leaned back against the seat. She was starting to get a headache, and whenever she got them, it always finished her for the day.
Something was pressed against her chest, and she looked down to see some painkillers there.
“Take a couple. It’ll help.”
“You get headaches?”
“Migraines, and I don’t like to be out of commission for long. Take a couple, and rest.”
She did as he asked, leaning back, and allowing the medicine to do its job. By the time they pulled up outside of her shitty building, she was feeling better.
“This is where you live?” he asked.
“Yep, home sweet home.”
“It’s a dump.”
“Again, you’re starting to sound like a spoilt rich boy. It’s not very becoming of you.”
He stuck his tongue out, looking at the building. There were several windows broken, and some of the brick work.
“People actually live here?” he asked.
“In every single apartment. Even the ones with bricks missing, and windows smashed.” She shrugged. “Welcome to poverty.”