54. Chapter 53
Chapter 53
Keaton
This wasn’t my first time in a jail, but for once I was the one doing the visiting rather than being visited or bailed out. The concrete walls surrounding me were depressing nonetheless.
“You’ve got ten minutes.” Bancroft held open the door leading to a hallway with four jail cells. “Don’t kill him.”
“Can’t make any promises.” I entered and headed straight for the cell to the far left, the only one occupied.
Aaron rose from the uncomfortable cot—as I knew from experience—and shuffled to the iron bars between us. Seeing his mug made me want to reach through and give his neck a good squeeze. Or slam his head into the wall separating the cells. Shove his head down that stainless steel toilet reeking of urine.
“Looks like the roles are reversed for once.” His gray hair hung in greasy strands into his eyes, the orange jumpsuit he wore swallowing his gaunt frame. He’d been in here for a couple of days and would have to stay until his trial. The judge had denied bail because Aaron apparently had tried to flee with his yacht, then assaulted officers during his arrest.
“Except you did a little more than vandalize or traffic offense.” I locked eyes with him, all the fury I felt burning in my glare. “Why?”
Aaron curled his hands around the bars. “Because you screw up everything, Keaton. You’re only after what serves you. This company has been in my family for years—a lot of hard work is behind it. A lot of sweat, blood, and tears. Including mine, because I stayed with your mother even though she humiliated me over and over. I won’t let you destroy that.”
“Well, well, well, so you stayed with her because it benefited LGD after all.” I sniffed. “You’re the one who caused damage to his own company, remember?”
“That was a means to an end. Small damage compared to how you will run it into the ground.”
“And Kimball would’ve done a better job?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
I scoffed. Of course. She’d always been Daddy’s girl. Aaron had probably been planning this from the start. Why hadn’t I seen it before?
“You made the IED, didn’t you?” I asked. “I’m sure with your engineer’s degree you would know how.”
Aaron tugged at the collar of his jumpsuit, but said nothing.
“So you thought killing my wife would solve it all? Huh?”
“She’s still alive, isn’t she?”
I lunged forward, grabbed his head, and yanked it between the bars. Aaron let out a yelp. “Shut up,” I snarled. “You can thank God that you’re locked up in a cell.”
“Or what?” Aaron croaked. Blood ran from his right ear, his face crimson. “Would you kill me like you killed your brother? You’re the murderer here, Keaton.”
The words hit me like a throat punch, and I let him go. At the same time, a beefy arm wrapped around my pecs, hauling me back.
“Visiting time is over,” Bancroft growled.
I let him shove me out the door into the empty hallway.
“You gotta keep it together if you want to see your sister,” he said after letting go of me.
Leaning against the cold wall, I cradled my throbbing ribs. “I will.”
“We found antipsychotics on him.”
I cocked a brow. This shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. Was that the reason why his attacks had been so unorganized? Did Regina know? “So, he’s what, schizophrenic? Bipolar?”
“We’re looking into it.” Bancroft gestured down the hall. “After you.”
A moment later, I sat in the adjoining room, dialed in again, Kimball across from me. The chairs and table were bolted to the floor, the walls the same bleak gray as in the cells. I wasn’t sure who was listening in behind the one-way mirror and didn’t care. This time, Bancroft stayed in the room. Apparently he didn’t trust me anymore after I’d nearly ripped Aaron’s head off.
“I’m so sorry, Keaton.” Kimball’s green eyes were bloodshot, her face bare of makeup. She looked different. Tired. Broken. “Please forgive me.”
I’d only seen her cry twice in life—when her horse had died a day before her tenth birthday, and when Dalton broke up with her in high school. The Bible said to forgive, and I knew I had to. At least her. I wasn’t ready to forgive Aaron.
I nodded, though I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
Kimball let out a sob. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Why did you do it?” I asked.
She stemmed the flood of tears with the sleeve of her jumpsuit. “When Daddy asked me if I wanted to be CEO, I couldn’t believe it. He finally gave me the attention I always wanted, so I said yes.” She took a shaky breath. “He needed my computing skills—sending you anonymous text messages, breaking into the gate, cloning the key fob of the Elysium.”
“Yeah, I figured that much out myself.”
“I thought if I did these things, maybe he would finally see me. Not Barbie, but me.”
Interesting. Who would have thought we had so much in common?
“Delilah had nothing to do with it, by the way,” she went on, the words tumbling from her mouth. “She really loves you. When we saw you in Vegas I dared her to tell you, then snapped pictures. Sent them to Daddy, so he could print them and drop them off at Layne’s.”
Something else I’d already worked out.
“But I never meant to hurt you or Layne. I didn’t know Daddy was going to set your whole house on fire. He said the yard, but then . . .” Kimball started crying again. I wanted to hug my kid sister but wasn’t allowed to touch her, so I just watched her crumble in front of me. “Will she be okay?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” She was recovering—slowly, painfully slowly—but she was determined to get better. I prayed for her every single night. Still hated to see her suffer, though. Always would.
“Time’s up.” Bancroft approached our table.
Kimball rose, and he guided her to the door. She glanced over her shoulder before she was ushered out of sight.
Never before had I seen my sister in this state, but I knew this was where God could start working on her heart. I’d had to get that desperate too. Hopefully she’d have access to a Bible in the prison she’d most likely end up in. If Jesus could change me, He could change her.
Bancroft came back and nodded at me. I stood and let him escort me out of jail. I was ready to go home—to Layne. My wife.