Pay the Price (Harmony Grove Book 3) Carol Post (poetry books to read txt) 📖

off the weekend Priscilla turned eighteen. Everyone in town knew, which meant Peterson did, too. “No one has seen or heard from my mother in over three years.”

“I’m going to have to deliberate on it. Someone should try harder to locate her. I’ll notify Mr. Downing here of my decision.”

Maybe arguing with the judge wasn’t a good idea. But in Harmony Grove, she wasn’t known for making smart decisions. “Your Honor, they’ve already tried. If there’d been any way to reach her, they would never have called me. I need access to Priscilla’s accounts. There are bills to pay. I know for a fact there’s a mortgage on the house. And I’m guessing she didn’t pay cash for that fancy sports car sitting in the drive.”

“Well, Miss Parker, these things take time. Nothing moves fast in the legal system. Your best bet is to go back to your home, and Mr. Downing will let you know when there’s any change.” He declared the hearing adjourned, rose from the bench and walked away.

She stared after the black-robed figure, jaw agape. He was holding her past against her, abusing his position of power to make her pay for deeds she’d committed a decade earlier. She snapped her mouth closed and turned accusing eyes on Mark.

“There was no reason for him to not grant that request. How am I supposed to pay Prissy’s bills without access to her money?”

Mark cast a nervous glance at the bailiff and court reporter, then put an arm across her shoulders to guide her from the room. “Let’s talk outside.”

She bit back her objections. She would at least be able to get Prissy buried, thanks to Pappy and Edith DelRoss. When Prissy had started waitressing with Pappy’s, she’d designated her mother as the beneficiary on the small life insurance policy that had come with the job. Those funds were just as inaccessible as Prissy’s other money, but the DelRosses had covered the cost, had even made the arrangements. Jessica had learned that yesterday. The funeral would be at three Saturday afternoon, and she didn’t have to do a thing.

Another thing she’d learned was that the DelRosses had been the ones to call the police after Prissy hadn’t shown up for work. The officers had had to kick in the front door to gain entry. Pappy and Edith had then paid to have the door jamb repaired so the house would once again be secure.

As much as she appreciated all their effort, as soon as she had access to some funds, she would pay back every dime of what they’d spent. She didn’t want to be indebted to anyone, even kind-hearted souls like the DelRosses.

After stepping off the elevator, Jessica followed Mark through a door downstairs that led to a covered patio area. Courthouse employees and visitors sat around concrete tables taking afternoon smoke breaks. She held her silence a moment longer and moved toward the crosswalk. “Okay,” she said, stepping into the January sunshine, “we’re outside now.” She stopped at the edge of Church Street, which separated the courthouse from the parking lots, and jabbed an index finger into his chest. “You give me one good reason why he couldn’t grant my request.”

“I am a little surprised. I thought it would be pretty cut and dried. But he has a point about your mother.”

“That’s hogwash. He knows full well my mother can’t be found. She didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address. He’s just being difficult because it’s me.” She turned and stalked toward the parking lot, Mark beside her. “What did I ever do to him? Sure, I kept winding up in his courtroom. But that was his job. Nothing to hold a personal grudge for.”

“Well, there was the time you and my sister egged his house.”

His reminder brought a grimace. “Oh, yeah.”

He rested a hand on her shoulder. Mark didn’t hold the past against her like so many others did. Of course, his sister Jasmine was usually her partner in crime. It was rarely anything serious, usually just stupid stuff like putting soap in the fountain downtown so that by morning half the park was covered in a layer of fluffy white suds, or catching a bunch of tree frogs and sneaking them into old Ms. Willoughby’s fifth-grade classroom. Besides, Mark hadn’t been a model child himself.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Give it a couple of weeks. My guess is this will all be straightened out long before the first bill goes into collection.”

“All right, two weeks.”

He headed off toward where he’d parked some distance away, and she continued to her car. Regardless of what Mark said, Judge Peterson was keeping her from her sister’s financial affairs just to be difficult. Or maybe there was something he didn’t want her to see.

What had Priscilla gotten mixed up in? What did she have that someone had tried so hard to find? After a full day of work at the house, she didn’t know any more than she had before. Other than the missing hard drive and phone, nothing she’d encountered hinted at anything more sinister than a reluctance to throw things away. She and Shane had packed up box after box of the normal accessories of life—Priscilla’s life, Mom’s life, even Jessica’s own.

Eight years had passed, but her things were all still there—school yearbooks, favorite stuffed animals, clothes and shoes she’d left behind in her hasty escape from Harmony Grove. The items had probably sat undisturbed in the closet and dresser drawers ever since, until being dumped on the floor with everything else. But the fact that Priscilla hadn’t disposed of it all spoke volumes. Maybe she felt some sentimental attachment to the things that had belonged to her older sister. Or maybe she’d always held out hope that the wayward sister would eventually return.

Yeah, right. Those were nice thoughts. But she knew Priscilla. More than likely she’d just never gotten around to getting rid of the stuff.

Jessica held up her key fob and pressed the unlock