I Like You a Latte {Completed}

44 | Thanking the Hero

Beverly padded around Cynthia's large home the next day, running her fingers along the edges of various furniture and knick-knacks as she went. Both Cynthia and Griffin were at the shop (it took plenty of reassuring on Beverly's part to get them to leave), and Beverly had been left to her own devices. She didn't mind the silence, but she had grown bored relatively quickly, even with her laptop and coding to keep her company.

She hadn't left the house since she'd first gotten there from the hospital, and—as large as it was—it could only keep her satisfied for so long; her cabin fever had grown with each passing day. But she knew neither Griffin nor Cynthia would appreciate it if she left by herself, so she'd have to call someone to go with her into the city.

The question, of course, was who? She'd texted Alicia, and the other girl was busy with work; Francis would be working, too—she could probably stop by and see him, but he wouldn't be able to take the day off just because she was feeling claustrophobic.

Ah, but there's another option. Nodding to herself at the thought, Beverly pulled her phone out of her hoodie pocket and tapped on a contact before pressing the device to her ear.

It rang twice before the words, "What the hell do you want?" came through the other end of the line.

Beverly grinned. "Hello, dearest Deborah. How are you?"

The other girl released a string of grumbled curses. "I'd be better if you could learn to leave me alone. What is it?"

"I need a favor . . ."

***

"You don't have to come with me," Beverly assured Deb only an hour later. They were settled in front of Silvertone, and Deb was drumming her fingers against the steering wheel anxiously.

Beverly had yet to see Francis in person since the incident, as he hadn't wanted to bother Cynthia. In their several phone conversations, Francis had confessed to Beverly that the older woman had yet to contact him, regardless of what she'd told Beverly about contacting him soon. As much as Beverly wanted to help, she'd learned her lesson; she wouldn't get involved in Francis's and Cynthia's business again unless she absolutely had to.

Ignoring that issue, however, Beverly had been aching to see Francis since she'd been released from the hospital and, with school quickly approaching and Griffin's near-constant hovering, her chances to do so were limited.

Deb spoke up, tearing Beverly from her thoughts. "I think I will. Just to thank him, at least." The other girl blew out a weary sigh, and Beverly squeezed Deb on the shoulder encouragingly.

"That's a great idea," she supplied, climbing out of the car carefully and waiting until Deb was beside her before heading into the large building. Once inside, she let her eyes settled on the receptionist, a woman in her early fifties named Mary, according to the name tag.

"Where's Frieda?" Deb hissed in Beverly's ear as soon as they had made it past the receptionist (thankfully, Mary was much kinder to Beverly than Frieda had been; of course, Beverly's name had been placed on the 'Always Allow Entrance' list, but still).

"You didn't hear?" Beverly asked as they waited in front of the elevator. "She got arrested." During one of her phone calls with Francis, the older man had informed her of Frieda, and all that had happened to the woman. "She claimed she was being blackmailed, but that turned out to be a lie; she just wanted the money Harris offered her."

One of Deb's sparkly black heels clacked against the ground nervously. "God. How long will she be locked up?"

Beverly shrugged. "I'm not sure, honestly, but I think she's giving them information in exchange for a lesser sentence." Neither one of them mentioned that, had she not been a college student suffering from debt who had helped bring Harris's operation crashing down, Deb could have ended up in the same prison as Frieda.