Page 124 of Smith

“There’s nothing for either of you to be sorry about.”

“We—”

“Please,” I cut off George. “I don’t mean to be rude. But I’m being honest when I tell you, you don’t need to apologize for what Billy did. He did it. Not either of you. Let’s leave it there.”

“Right,” George grunted.

The devastation Billy fucking Rice wrought was far-reaching. I might’ve been the last person he attempted to victimize but I wasn’t the only one. The list of people he’d harmed was unfortunately long. The brother and sister in front of me only the tip of the iceberg.

The front door opened. Linc walked in, his face like thunder, his blue eyes sparking fire.

Oh, God, what now?

When he cleared the crowd and he fully came into view, I saw them.

“Ugh,” I grumbled. “I hate this house.” Then I remembered Brittney and George were in the room and quickly added, “No, offense. I just can’t take anymore.”

Brittney and George exchange looks but it was George who studied Lincoln.

“More?” Smith growled.

Whatever hold I still had on my sanity was coming to an end. I’d told Smith and Zane and the police I didn’t think Billy had anything to do with the letters being sent and why.

Billy was dead.

Lincoln held two white envelopes in his hand, proof Billy had told the truth.

“What’s going on?” George asked.

“Aria’s been getting letters mailed to the house. Every two weeks.”

George’s brows pulled together. He looked down at his sister and asked, “I thought she stopped.”

“No. Dad didn’t tell you?”

“What are you two talking about?” Zane cut in.

Smith’s arm around my waist tightened. Not tight enough to hurt my ribs but tight enough for me to know he was unhappy.

“The neighbor two doors down. Her and my dad had a feud. This goes back to when we were kids.” Brittney stopped to look at her brother. “I think I was about ten or eleven. Anyway, the property line is weird in the backyard. The far corner of the backyard meets with Wallace’s next door and Miss Edna’s. One summer, Dad got fed up with the birds and squirrels dropping these purple berries on the back porch. They stained the concrete. He also was sick of wasps the bush attracted and got stung at least once a year when he mowed back there. So he cut the bush down.” Brittney paused and smiled. “Miss Edna freaked out. Called the police on Dad and everything. She said the bush was on her property and he didn’t have permission to cut it down.”

George jumped in to add, “When the police wouldn’t do anything she called DNR and reported Dad for cutting down a bush on the rare, threatened and endangered plant list. The bush was called a chokeberry bush. Dad offered to plant her one in her front yard but only if she promised to eat it.”

“And that started the feud. When she ran out of legal options she resorted to psychological warfare and started sending him letters. One every two weeks. All they said was, ‘I know.” Dad figured she knew because he told her he cut down that bush and he told DNR to fine him, but he wasn’t getting stung by wasps anymore and he wasn’t power washing purple bird shit off his patio.”

Brittney smiled and shrugged.

“She’s a cantankerous old woman. The one who won’t let kids get their footballs from her yard. I bet the old biddy has a dozen footballs and twice as many soccer balls in her garage,” George finished the story.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to shout or laugh.

An old lady feud.

Are you fucking kidding me?

All of this started because of a chokeberry bush.

“Explains why the letters stopped when she had her heart attack,” Jonas said. “Saw a Ram in her driveway a few weeks back. Man and woman with a couple of kids helping her into the house.”

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