“That bastard tried to deny it,” Lindsay spat. “But a paternity test proved me right and him wrong.”
“So, there was a test?” Dante asked.
“Of course, there was. That fucker refused to give me a dime until I shoved the confirmation in his arrogant face. And then he was all about not going through the courts and giving me whatever I wanted. He couldn’t have people knowing the good, perfect Dr. Abbott knocked up his receptionist. And as long as he was forking over the cash, I was happy to keep my mouth shut. I’m glad he’s dead, but I miss that cash.”
Cassidy recoiled at the harsh words.
“How old is Preston?” Dante asked.
“Twenty-two.”
“And Dr. Abbott was still giving you money for him?”
“Well, he certainly wasn’t going to let the truth come out now.”
“And the money has stopped?”
“How many dead men do you know who still pay their bills? Go on, I’m waiting. Tell me, how do you expect that bastard to pay me from the grave?”
Dante ignored her antagonistic tone as he pondered this revelation. He doubted Mrs. Abbott knew about Preston; otherwise, she probably would have kept paying if only to keep her husband’s reputation intact. And Lindsay must still have money somewhere; once it ran out, would she approach Mrs. Abbott about continuing to feed her addiction? He hoped not.
But still, he had to ask… “Does Mrs. Abbott know about your son?”
“How am I supposed to know what that hoity-toity bitch knew? Does it look like we run in the same circles? Do you think we go to the country club together on Sundays? Do I look like I get botoxed and bent over by my tennis instructor?”
Dante was beginning to find the prospect of taking control of her mind a lot more pleasant. “Do you think she knows about your son?”
“I seriously doubt that prick sperm donor told her about him. He wanted nothing to do with my beautiful Preston.”
Cassidy was finding this place and this woman’s life increasingly depressing. She lifted her head to gaze at the stains on the ceiling as tears pricked her eyes. Lindsay was a disaster now, but her love for her son was evident in her words and the old pictures.
“Did Dr. Abbott ever see Preston?”
“No. He sent money every month, but he never sent a birthday card, called, or bothered to ask how he was doing.”
Cassidy didn’t blame the woman for the bitterness in her tone. She still didn’t understand how the earlier, happier pictures of this woman and her son had deteriorated into this mess, but it wasn’t her place to judge others.
She was also beginning to feel a little uneasy about Preston’s relationship with Julie. The man had a reason to feel bitter about his absentee father, but had he decided to take his bitterness out on Julie?
It was so easy to become twisted as a vampire, so easy to give in to the malicious side of the demon DNA lurking inside them; had he decided to seek revenge on his father and his family once he turned? Or had a festering resentment and hatred always resided inside him?
“Did you know Dr. Abbott has a daughter?” Dante asked.
“I’d assumed him and that bitch would breed, but I didn’t know for sure,” Lindsay replied.
“Did you know your son contacted his sister after their father died?”
Her pursed mouth and a flicker in her eyes were the only indicators of her surprise over this revelation. “No, I didn’t.”
Dante asked her more questions about Preston’s childhood, where he grew up, and what he liked to do. They used to have a house on the outskirts of New Bedford, but something caused their lives to take a downturn. He suspected it was the glass of booze in Lindsay’s hand.
Preston was on the debate and soccer team in high school and very popular. Dante learned she got married when Preston was three and his stepfather raised him. When Preston was sixteen, the man died in a freak work accident.
The more he learned, the more Dante noticed the striking similarities between Preston and Julie’s stories. They were both happy, well-adjusted kids until they lost their fathers at sixteen.
He suspected that’s when Lindsay turned to the bottle and, according to Lindsay, Preston started to withdraw and stopped doing the things he once enjoyed. She didn’t know as much about her son’s life afterward.
She could still name his high school friends but couldn’t tell him one of Preston’s friends now. When he asked about a Jasmine, she stared blankly back at him before demanding Cassidy get her another drink. Dante gritted his teeth as Cassidy obliged.
“What happened to your home?” he asked.
She glowered at him. “I couldn’t afford to keep it after my husband died.”
“Did you ask Dr. Abbott for more money?”
“Of course, but that piece of shit said he couldn’t afford to give me any more money. I promised to tell everyone his shameful little secret, but he told me he wouldn’t have to pay me anything then.”
Dr. Abbott had taken a gamble and called her bluff, and deciding she’d rather have some money than none, Lindsay kept her mouth shut.
“Does Preston have a room here?” Dante asked.
“Of course he does,” Lindsay said.
“Can I take a look around it?”
“Why are you looking for my son?”
It was the first time she’d asked this question, and her words slurred as she stared skeptically at him.
“I’m not looking for your son; I’m looking for Julie Abbott,” Dante said.
“Who’s that?”
“His sister. She went missing two weeks ago.”
She smashed her cigarette into the ashtray. “My son has nothing to do with that!”
“I’m sure he doesn’t.” That was a complete lie; Preston was suspect number one. He had a good motive in money, revenge, and resentment over being abandoned to fuel him, but Dante couldn’t tell Lindsay that. “I’m trying to learn as much about Julie and her friends as I can.”
“Preston’s not her friend.”
He had to tread
