Chapter Twenty

As she walked to her truck, her temper began to simmer hotter and hotter. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Delly's number. It rang then went directly to her voicemail. As Delly was a beautician, she was probably with a client. Kelleigh left a message: "Delly, you wont' believe this or maybe you will. I can't get the money out of the bank. He listed another woman as the next of kin. Do you recognize the name Becky Garver? Let me know. If Steve were alive right now, I'd kill him. Talk to you soon."



She flipped the phone shut in frustration. It wasn't the fact that she couldn't get the money. It was the existence of it and of Becky Garver. She didn't need Steve's money, actually now she didn't want it. Nevertheless, she did want to find out who this Becky is. Kelleigh started the truck and headed home. She would search on the Internet and if that didn't glean anything, unfortunately she would have to ask Sid.



Kelleigh returned home, parking the truck tight against the garage again. She just didn't trust Sid. Her tempered was still simmering hot and she wished for the first time in a long time that she had a cigarette. She'd quit years ago and had urged Steve to quit as well but he refused. If he were here, she would sneak a cigarette. The irony being that because he wasn't here, she wanted to smoke.
Instead, she poured herself a cup of coffee, slid it into the microwave, and slammed the door shut. Stabbing at the buttons on the panel, she fought the urge to throw things. Much like when she tipped the dresser out of the upstairs window. If she didn't want to keep the racecar so badly, she would take a baseball bat to it right now.



The microwave dinged when it finished heating and Kelleigh giggled at the image that popped into her head: the starting bell of a boxing match. She was the star, pummeling the snot out of Steve. Visualizing the absurd little scene bled off some of her anger. She took out the coffee cup and went to the table where her laptop was pushed off to the side by the textbooks she studied yesterday.
Her stomach did a little flip at the sight of them, a visual reminder of tomorrow's test. Tests made her nervous, especially tests that were taken by and given by men. As she stacked them up and set them on the coffee table, she promised herself that she would study tonight. First, she wanted to find out who in the hell Becky Garver was.



A quick Internet search gave her an address and telephone number. Becky lived in the next town, just about 10 miles away. That was all she gained from the search, no mentions in the local police blotter or community news, no wedding announcements, nothing. Kelleigh wrote down the address and number then slid the paper to the side. She didn't know what to do next. Surely, the bank would have notified her by now of Steve's money. It was nearly lunchtime. For a quick second, Kelleigh considered going back to the bank and waiting to see if she could spot Becky coming to get the money. She discarded the thought as soon as it flitted through her mind; she had no idea what she looked like. She could only assume that she was the girl in the picture they found.
She would just have to wait for Delly to call her back. Delly knew practically everyone, perhaps she would know her, or at least of her.



Frustrated and bored, Kelleigh went into the kitchen and made herself a sandwich. She wasn't really hungry; it was more of a habit. She quickly slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As she leaned against the kitchen counter, it occurred to her that she forgot, again, to call the racetrack. Sighing with frustration, she went back to the table and flipped open the address book.
Doing so jarred something in her mind. She flipped to the G section and scanned the names and numbers for anything resembling Becky Garver. Nothing.



She flipped back to the B section and scanned it. At first, she didn't find anything then something struck her as strange. An entry that Steve made "BG" was listed at the bottom. Kelleigh at first assumed that it was a manufacturer that Steve often called with tech questions about the car but she realized that the prefix was the same as the telephone number she'd written on the pad of paper. The remaining numbers were different but the prefix the same. As the manufacturer wasn't local, she knew it wasn't them. Could it be? Would he be that bold? Then Kelleigh rolled her eyes at her own naivete. He'd been bold enough, or rather stupid enough, to keep her picture and money in their bedroom. Why wouldn't he have written the number down too?
Kelleigh added the number to the address and number written on the pad. One more clue to give Delly when she called.



She sat doodling on the notepad with her chin resting in her hand. She suddenly felt as if nothing was real or right. Nothing in her life was as it seemed. With one argument, her entire life changed. She was no longer married, now a widow actually. Her marriage was a sham; not that she carried any delusions about it before Steve's death. With Steve's life insurance, she didn't have to worry about bills for a while. She could do as she wished, with him gone.



Everything was changed. It was as if she were dropped into an alternate universe. Kelleigh felt powerless. It was a feeling that wasn't unfamiliar to her and she hated it. She had kept it at bay during her adult life. First by marrying Steve, which turned out to be a horrible mistake, then by working and earning her own money. She also made a point of learning about anything and everything that ever interested her. This thirst for knowledge kept her entertained and distracted from the problems in her life. Now, there was nothing to distract her. Everything that was wrong was highlighted in garish light.