Worth More Than Money (Worth It 3)

“Get up,” I said.

“Michy?”

“No, idiot. It’s Gray. Now get up.”

“The hell?”

“Get up, Andy.”

I watched as he stumbled to his feet, his shirtless form rising up to meet my stare. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, like my father’s. His breath reeked, like my father’s. His teeth were beginning to turn brown, like my father’s.

I sighed and shook my head as I reached my arms out to steady Andy on his feet.

“You need to get your shit together,” I said.

He tried to shrug off my grasp, but I only held him tighter.

“The hell do you want? Michelle isn’t here,” he said.

“That’s obvious. But you’re here, and you’re half dead.”

“What the hell do you care?”

“You used to be my best friend, Andy. I’m always going to care.”

“Fuck off.”

“Let me help you get clean. Sober. I’ll pay for rehab and anything else you need. But you’re going down a path that’s going to kill you, and I don’t want to see you do that to yourself.”

He finally found the strength to shrug me off and stumbled towards the hallway.

“Get the hell out of my damn house, homewrecker.”

I sighed and shook my head before I let myself out.

Since it didn’t look like Andy wanted my help, or that Michelle was even in town, things were about to get more complicated. The only other option I had at my disposal was hiring a private investigator to track her down. Thankfully—and unfortunately—I had one on speed dial. One that had helped me through the last three pregnancy scares when women had popped up out of the blue and accused me of being the father of their child.

So, I got him on the phone and fed him all the information I had.

I filled him in on my history with her and what I knew about her. I told him how urgent it was that I found this woman because there was a chance she carried my child with her when she left. I hung up the phone and headed back to Anton’s, trying to bide my time dicking around the house until I heard back from him.

I didn’t expect him to call back that afternoon, though.

“This is Grayson.”

“Grayson. It’s Detective Dryver.”

“That was quick,” I said. “It’s never good when it’s quick.”

“Just simple,” he said. “The first thing I did was I contact the bus station in Stillsville, and the man I talked to was very helpful. A woman by the name of Michelle Danforth matching the description you gave me bought a one-way bus ticket last Thursday to a small town in North Dakota called Williston.”

“So that’s where she is?” I asked.

Holy shit, the woman went all the way back home?

“I did some digging, and I’m sure that’s where she is. Some medical records of hers popped up. A clinic in the middle of the town. I don’t have any sensitive information on what the clinic appointment was about, but I do know a Michelle Danforth has another appointment scheduled with them in three months. That’s where she is. I’m sure of it.”

“Thanks for your help. Expect your normal feel plus a bonus to drop into your account by tomorrow morning,” I said.