Free Rob Cornell - Ridley Brone 02 - The Hustle by Rob Cornell

Autumn today.”
    Now she did react. I felt her start. “Why?”
    “Because our friend Hersch went to see her first.” I turned to her so I could see her face. “He’s stepped up his con quite a bit.” I explained to her what had happened since that morning, stopping short of what Autumn had told me last.
    The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “Jesus. I’m so sorry I brought this on you.”
    The faint sound of traffic from the road along the cemetery came like a soft breath over the hill beyond my parents’ gravesite. All other sound was muffled by the snowfall.
    I looked back and forth between the headstones. More flecks of snow had collected on their surfaces. “Has Hersch contacted you since we last spoke?”
    Her voice peaked. “No. Why would he?”
    “How much do you know about Lincoln Rice?”
    “Oh, Lord.” She let go of my arm and faced me. “Autumn knows?”
    I nodded. “And now Hersch does, too.”
    She staggered away from me, her heavy footfalls crunching in the snow. A sudden gust tugged at the hem of her coat, fluttering it around her thighs. Her back to me, I heard her voice, but the wind carried off the word.
    “How much do you know?” I asked again.
    She shook her head, wouldn’t turn back.
    I glanced at my parents’ graves, pulling in a hard breath through my nose. The winter chill burned the insides of my nostrils and carried a metallic scent like cold steel. Then I marched up to Sheila, put a hand on her shoulder, and gently turned her around to face me.
    Tears rolled in the grooves on her face. Up close, I noticed the jaundiced hue to her eyes. How much of her share of the inheritance had she washed away with drink?
    I felt like I stood at the edge of a precipice. The deepest, darkest water breaks against the rocks, like giant dinosaur teeth, below. I could jump. Could plunge into the dark sea and immerse myself in whatever secrets it held. But I had to clear the rocks. This jump could kill me.
    “Did you know about the baby selling?”
    She scowled. “Of course not.”
    “Did you know about my daughter?”
    She inched back, drawing trenches in the snow with her heels.
    My throat swelled. My face grew tight. “No, Sheila. No.”
    “I didn’t know he would…sell her.”
    Flakes of snow caught in my eyelashes. When I blinked them away, their melted remains felt like tears. “What did you know?”
    “That Autumn was pregnant. That you were the father. And that neither of you were ready for such a responsibility.”
    “You were in on it?”
    “We had long stopped seeing each other, but he came to me when he found out. Asked my advice.”
    Each word she spoke felt like a hammer strike to my chest. I could hardly breathe. “Your advice was what? Keep it secret then sell her off to the highest bidder?”
    Her gloved hands curled into fists. “I told you I didn’t know about that.”
    “Why should I believe you? You’ve kept this little lie for almost twenty years. If my parents knew what you’d done—”
    “They did know.”
    I shuffled back as if punched square in the solar plexus. My mouth opened and closed like a perch left on the dock planks to suffocate in time for dinner. “You’re lying.”
    “I’m not. They knew, and they agreed with our decision.”
    “Your decision? As if it was yours to make!”
    “You were just a child.”
    “I was eighteen. And you all were right. I hope that makes you feel better. I wasn’t ready to be a father. I couldn’t even figure out how to be a son.” The wind buffeted against me, but I felt none of the cold. “But all of you in your self-righteousness never thought to include the baby’s father in the discussion.”
    “What would you have said? Done?”
    I hesitated only a second. “I would have stood by my responsibility.”
    Sheila pointed at me. “That’s why we didn’t tell you.”
    “For my own good?” I twisted my fingers into my hair, ready to tear it out in chunks, maybe some scalp with it. “You knew what I