Chapter 3
CASS
"Ihate to say this," I said slowly.
"Granger Fairfield was a shit photographer," Boner finished for me.
"Yeah." I stared at the three photos of nothing more disturbing than a pair of shoes. Thank fuck.
Two of the shoes were out of focus and the third was only the right shoe.
"I have questions." Most of all, I had relief. The photos I'd seen the other day at Harlow's restaurant were sickening. I'd fully expected to see something similar again.
This? It was weird, but that was all.
Unless… They meant something.
"I have a few questions myself," Harlow said, frowning at the screen. "I'm going to guess he didn't have some strange shoe fetish. He tried to take a photo of something else and aimed the wrong way?"
"He wouldn't be the first," Boner said reasonably. "Some might call it art."
I looked up at him over my shoulder. "You call this art?"
He was the artist and gallery owner, not me. He'd know what people considered art, and what they didn't. In theory. You know what they say, I liked what I liked.
"Hell no." Boner gave me a funny look. "Not even the one in focus."
"Why was he wearing shoes from Walmart?" Harlow asked.
We both turned to stare at her.
She gestured toward the screen. "He had all that money, but…" Her pretty eyes widened as she realized what she was saying.
"Those aren't his shoes," I said.
Boner leaned in and squinted. "Those are taken from an angle that suggests the wearer had the phone in their hand. Maybe Jules took them before he handed the phone to us."
I looked again. "Those don't look like Jules' feet. He'd never wear shoes like that anyway. He only wears black; those are grey."
"Let me guess, his feet are bigger," Harlow said softly.
"I need to call Jules." I pushed myself back from the desk, grabbed my phone and stepped away. Not that I could get far in this place. I didn't care if they heard, I just wanted some physical space. The illusion of it anyway.
I pressed on Jules' name and put the phone to my ear. It rang a couple of times before the call went through.
"The fuck, bro?" Jules sounded sleepy.
"Sorry to wake you," I said, not that sorry. "Quick question. Was anyone else in the brownstone when you were there? Any sign of anyone?"
A shuffling came through the phone and I pictured him sitting up.
"Why?" he asked carefully.
"We found photos on his phone that weren't taken by him," I said. "We don't know who took them."
"That's some weird shit," he said. He didn't sound like he thought it was significant.
"We don't think someone was sending him unsolicited shoe pics," I said dryly.
"Who's we?" He sounded unimpressed. Like he already knew the answer but was asking anyway. Knowing for certain he wouldn't like what he heard.
I glanced over to Harlow and Boner. Both were listening.
Boner with interest, Harlow looking like she wished Jules wasn't involved in any of this.
She wasn't sure if she could trust him and they couldn't stand each other.
I hoped at some point they'd learn to get along, because I wasn't giving up either of them.
And Boner, and Archer? I wasn't sure where I stood with either of them. All of this was too new. Too fragile to jump in too far, too fast. The only thing I knew was that we all wanted Harlow. And she seemed to like all of us. That was all I needed to know right now.
I put the phone on speaker. "Harlow and Boner," I said. "We're at my place."
"Cassius—" Jules started.
"Julius—" I said in the same tone. "Don't be weird about this."
"Weird?" he echoed. "You…" He lowered his voice. "I saw what you did. What they did. You can't seriously get caught up in this."
"I already am caught up," I said calmly. "I'm going to keep being caught up. This isn't just about Auggie anymore."
It started that way, yes. The more I got to know Harlow, the more important her mission was to me too. For our younger brother Augustus, and anyone like him. As long as I was still breathing, I couldn't let this go.
Jules sighed, the sound crackling against his phone. "I didn't see anyone else in Fairfield's brownstone. Can't say I was looking. Once I realized he wasn't there, I got the fuck out. You think there might have been someone else? Someone he was—"
"Archer let somebody go while we were distracting Fairfield," Harlow said.
"She was wearing slippers," I supplied. "I saw her on the security camera as she came out of the brownstone. The police received an 'anonymous' tip off to her whereabouts half a block away.”
She should be back with her family by now. Safe. One less innocent person with their life torn apart. Broken by monsters.
I couldn't suppress a small surge of pride at that. Didn't try. We'd done some actual, practical good in the world.
Go us.
"So, either someone else was there," Boner said slowly, "or someone wanted us to see those photos."
"Why would they want that?" Harlow asked. She was frowning, like she was turning thoughts over in her brain, but not settling on a conclusion.
"Two reasons," Boner said, counting them off on his long fingers. "One, the girl Archer and Cass helped to get away from there took them in another location, hoping someone would help whoever's shoes those are. Or two—"
In unison, we all said, "It's a trap."
Boner waved a finger in the air. "Bonus points for everyone."
"If that's the case, they must have known we'd go after Fairfield," Harlow reasoned. "Or someone else would."
She gestured towards the phone in my hand, indicating she was referring to Jules.
"They might have figured out there's a connection between Fairfield and his other associates," Boner said. "In that case, we're going to be extra careful when we go after—"
Mindful Jules was listening, he mouthed, "Hypnos, Eros and Zeus."
"What's going on, Cassius?" Jules said, sounding dangerously close to heading over to my apartment to start swinging punches. "You need to get the hell out of this before you're in too deep."
"Like I said—" I started.
"That was before they knew we were coming," he interrupted. "They could have been sitting there waiting for us. For you."
"I was never in the brownstone," I argued. "I was half a block away, listening in."
"They still could have found you," he argued. "I've already lost one brother."
I closed my eyes and exhaled softly. "You're not going to lose another. Neither am I, right?"
I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to do some vigilante work on his own to keep me out of trouble.
On the other hand, he didn't know what we knew. Chances were, he wouldn't be successful. He could end up…
I refused to finish that thought.
"What do you think I am, some kind of hothead?" he demanded.
"You've been known to do some rash things once in a while," I said with more than a hint of irony.
Hothead was the perfect description for him, if I was honest. He'd run into a burning house to save anyone he thought needed to be rescued. He'd also watch it burn if he thought they deserved it.
My brother was a complicated guy at best. Like me, now I thought about it.
"So have you," he said meaningfully. "Listen to me, Cassius. These people are dangerous. They don't give a shit who they have to step over or kill to get what they want. They'll slice your throat open and leave you to bleed without a second thought."
"That's not going to happen," I argued. "We know what we're doing."
Okay, Harlow and Boner knew what they were doing. Archer too. They weren't going to get any of us killed.
I trusted that.
I had to.
Jules' snort crackled through the phone again. "They overlooked a phone lying on the floor."
I glanced over to Harlow. "Is it possible the phone wasn't there when you were? If someone was waiting for us to act on Fairfield, they might have come in afterward and planted it."
Harlow frowned, but slowly shook her head. "I have no idea. I guess it's possible, but no one went after Jules when he was there. Did they?"
That was a good question. Why plant the phone there and not act when it was found?
"No, they didn't," Jules said. "If they had, wouldn't I have said something?"
I hated myself for saying it, but I had to. "I don't know, would you? You might have been the one who planted the phone."
That made much more sense than I was comfortable with. He knew what we were doing and he didn't like it. He could have set us up.
Set me up.
"I didn't plant the fucking phone," he growled. "I saw no one else there, but I didn't take myself on a tour either. I got in, got the hell out."
"Did you shake it all about?" Boner quipped, shaking his wrists. He grinned when we turned to stare at him. "What? He could be doing the hokey pokey right now, for all we know."
"He's out of his fucking mind," Jules said darkly.
"Haven't you heard?" Boner asked. "All the best people are."
"Figures you'd team up with the Mad Hatter," Jules muttered.
"I'm more like the Cheshire Cat," Boner said. "Mysterious and always smiling."
"Was there anything else you wanted?" Jules asked. "I have to be at work in a couple of hours."
I turned away from the other two. "Just…be careful, okay? If it was a trap, they might be after you too."
"Let them fucking try," he said before hanging up.
I put my phone down and rubbed my temples. A headache threatened. I didn't regret getting involved with Harlow, but getting my brother tangled too? That was another story.
He was just as likely to get himself killed because of me. On the other hand, knowing he also gained a measure of closure after Auggie's death wasn't something I could bring myself to feel bad about. That was something we both needed, regardless of the subsequent consequences.
"Does anyone else feel like they're missing something?" Harlow asked. "Photos of shoes are a strange way to trap people."
"I don't know," Boner said. "If they showed anyone's face, they'd incriminate themselves. What is a pair of shoes going to prove? For all we know, they could be old photos. Is there any way to tell what device they were taken on?"
I snapped my face toward him. "Yes. Every photo you take on your phone has metadata attached to it. I should be able to tell the make and model of the phone they were taken on and the date they were taken."
I took a step back in the direction of my desk, but Harlow grabbed my arm to stop me.
"Tomorrow," she said firmly. "It's been a long day and night. A few hours more won't make a difference."
I opened my mouth to protest, but instead of words, a yawn came out.
"I guess a few hours sleep wouldn't hurt. You can stay here." That last wasn't a question or even a suggestion. I wanted her to stay.
"I'll take the couch," Boner said, eyeing it doubtfully.
"It's more comfortable than it looks," I told him. I'd fallen asleep on it during a Lord of the Rings marathon more than once.
He dropped himself down onto it, placed his hands behind his head and lay back.
"It'll do for a nap," he said, knuckling a yawn of his own.
I took Harlow's hand and led her into my bedroom.