Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Everything passes by in a blur. Dad’s forced on his knees by two of the SWAT police officers, while Blair and I remain frozen in our spots.
The entire thing happens in maybe fifteen minutes, before he’s dragged out in handcuffs.
He turns back to look at me, and it’s brief, but I know what the look means.
When he’s pulled out and shoved into the backseat of the car, another man approaches the front door and steps inside as if he’s the owner of the house. His suit is nicely fitted, and the FBI badge flashes before my eyes as he identifies himself.
“Special Agent Fred Arnault,” he introduces himself, offering his hand for me to shake.
I merely glance at it before looking back at his face, without taking the hand. He has something on his hand that he thinks I didn’t notice. It’s likely something to get my fingerprints, and I won’t fall for the oldest trick in the book.
“What are his charges, agent?”
“Conspiracy and involvement in criminal organizations.’’
A small hum slips my lips, and I can’t help but find this bizarre. Just when we find Blair, Mom gets shot, Amy Marshall escapes, and within seventy-two hours, Dad gets arrested. Someone pointed the feds toward our home, and I have every intention of finding out who the fuck it was.
I’m not too worried about Dad. He’ll be fine in prison, given the high connections in law enforcement and the fact that he’s well known amongst criminals. I doubt anyone will touch him in there and live to tell the tale.
“Let me guess, it will go straight to trial without the option of bail?”
The agent nods. “Correct.” Then he turns to his colleagues. “Wrap it up. We can’t do much without a search warrant. We’ll have one by morning.’’
“By morning, there won’t be anything left to find.’’
His jaw clenches, and I don’t stick around to listen to what he has to say. I return to the kitchen, watching as the officers, SWAT team members, and the agent himself leave the house, closing the door shut behind them.
Aria’s shaking in anger, eyes wide. Blair’s the first one to start actually doing something, though. Both I and my sister are in a state of pure shock at what just happened, so Blair taking the initiative and taking charge is exactly what we need right now.
She’s gone for a few minutes and then returns from the basement with two different types of bug detectors. She starts skimming through every room in the manor, while Aria and I remain silent, and after what seems to be an eternity, Blair tosses the devices aside.
“We’re fine.”
Aria sighs in relief. My hand reaches for the phone in my pocket while Blair closes all the blinds, all the curtains. The three of us sit around the table in the kitchen, waiting for Lucas to pick up the damn phone.
“What is it, Arlo?”
“SWAT just came to my fucking house. Dad’s been arrested.”
“What—”
“No time,” I interrupt. “Listen, gather as many of our men as possible and have them come to the manor using the underground route. Aria will wait for them in the basement entrance. By morning, this place needs to be wiped clean of every single DNA, anything that could even remotely incriminate us further.”
“Understood,” he sighs, and I can picture him rubbing his temples. “How the fuck did all of this happen?”
“I don’t know,” I groan. “Just have them here in an hour maximum. The house is big.”
The call ends shortly after, and I turn to my sister. She’s staring blankly at a random spot on the wall, unmoving. I snap my fingers in front of her, and she flinches a little before turning to look at me with a frown.
“Go and pack your essentials. You’ll be staying with Niko until all of this is resolved. Tell Rose not to come to the manor and not to talk to anyone.”
Aria nods. “What are you two going to do?”
“Right now, we’ll empty Mom and Dad’s offices,” I respond while opening a kitchen drawer and pulling out black trash bags. “Then, I’ll find us an apartment to stay in.”
“You could always use your own,” Aria points out.
“It’s in Dad’s name. They’ll search it, too, so it’s not safe.”
“What exactly are we looking for?” Blair asks, taking the trash bags out of my hands and walking toward the stairs. Aria and I follow right behind her, our footsteps rushed.
“Anything. Whatever you find inside the office, pack in the bags. From papers and documents to glasses and pencils. I’m not giving them anything to work with. Aria, once you’re packed, start with Mom’s office, while Blair and I cover Dad’s. He has a lot more of things inside.”
Aria nods wordlessly, then turns down the hall and enters her bedroom. Blair and I continue walking down the hallway. Blair stops me by grabbing the sleeve of my shirt, and I stop in my tracks, turning to face her.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
She sighs, then softly kisses my cheek. “Liar.”
“I can’t let this get to me, not now. Because we need to make sure nothing’s left behind. We can talk about this later.”
Blair looks ready to protest but quickly shuts her mouth and nods. She walks around me, pushing the door open of Hudson’s office. And God, is it a mess. He hasn’t been inside since before we went to rescue Blair, and he left in a hurry.
Papers scattered all over the desk, his laptop opened, a glass with whiskey left on the side. Blair closes the curtains, just in case there are police officers somewhere near trying to peek inside, then starts with his bookshelves.
The cleanup crew will deal with fingerprints, but Blair goes book by book, opening and shaking them, in case there’s anything inside them. While she’s busy with at least a hundred historical, political, and even economic books, I start going through the file cabinet on the opposite wall.
I don’t even look at what’s inside them, just shoving all of them inside the trash bags.
Before I can blink, one is entirely full.
I close it up and put it next to the door, switching on the second one.
It takes me about ten to fifteen minutes to fill up four of those, and I start cussing out Hudson internally.
Did he really need all of these papers, or did he just want to look like a proper businessman?
Aria comes through the door, leaving her duffle bag next to the ones I previously left there. She silently exits, then returns after a few minutes, carrying four big boxes stacked on top of each other.
“Here,” she lowers them to the floor. “For all his computers and shit. If they get damaged, he’ll damage us.”
A snort comes from Blair. She turns to look at Aria with amusement and starts putting Hudson’s computer, work phone, and all of the weapons she can find inside the office. Aria starts helping out, too, and we spend the next while working diligently in silence.
I try to shove all the thoughts to the back of my head, because my primary focus right now is trying to get rid of all the evidence against us. Four boxes and twelve filled trash bags later, we’re nearly done.
Aria bends down under Dad’s desk and groans. “His safe is locked.”
“Unlock it, then.”
She peeks her head up and glares at me. “Do I look like someone who knows the password?”
I groan, then walk over to the desk, sitting on the floor next to her. I’ve never paid much attention to the safe, but now when I’m clearly looking at it, it’s one of those that’s been built to explode if the password is entered wrongly three times.
“It’s either my birthday or Mom’s.”
I roll my eyes. “Try it, then.”
“We could always just take it with us without opening,’’ Blair offers.
“It’s bolted to the ground.” Aria responds, then types in her birthday as the password. It’s the wrong one, and I can’t help but smirk that daddy’s girl isn’t his password.
Aria scowls at me, but the second attempt at opening the safe is successful.
It’s Mom’s birthday, and the door opens.
Aria immediately pulls out all the contents of the safe, which include his emergency stash of cash—roughly half a million in one hundred dollar bills—and a gun, but there are also just some papers.
“Oh, I’m taking that,” Aria mutters, reaching for the money, and I swat her hand away. “What?” She asks, feigning innocence.
“Don’t even think about it. This money is probably unaccounted for, and we need it right now. Bank withdrawals will alert the cops.”
“Fiine,” she groans.
She’s trying to act unaffected by the entire situation, but I know better than that. She’s trying to joke around, something she does often when she’s under a lot of stress and doesn’t want anyone knowing. She should be resting right now, trying to focus on improving her mental health.
Instead, she’s stuck in here with Blair and me, doing things she shouldn’t be doing.
“Didn’t I tell you to start with Mom’s office?”
“Yeah, but I needed help,” she sighs, grabbing the papers and gun that were previously in the safe, then shoving them in the closest box.
“It’s mainly her weapons. You know how particular she is about those; if any is missing or damaged when she wakes up, I doubt you and I will live to see another day. ”
“Fine, let’s tackle that down.”
It takes the three of us at least forty minutes to go through Mom’s office.
Blair’s in charge of carefully wrapping up all of the knives, daggers, and even the machete Mom has.
Aria’s the one that’s packing them carefully in a box, trying to make them fit nicely, without damaging them.
I, on the other hand, am focusing on grabbing all of the things Mom has lying around.
From family photos and some old drawings that Aria and I did for her back when we were kids to our graduation images and framed photos of family outings that date from when I was an only child to two years ago, when we stopped taking them altogether.
“Arlo,” Blair's voice snaps me out of the small trance. “You should start taking the boxes and bags into the basement. They will be here soon.”