Chapter 33 #2
“Did you find them?” Grant asks. “Terra’s benefactors?”
“We did,” Agent Lamott says. “Miriam was not without her faults, but she was dangerously smart, and she was loyal to a fault. With Terra in custody, it set off a…chain of events that led to a file showing up on an FBI secure line within an hour. Miriam programmed it to send upon one of two things—her publicized death or Terra’s incarceration.
The wealth of knowledge that she and Vivian collected over the years will save a lot of people, and it started with a trail that led to Terra’s primary benefactor. ”
“You make it sound so…easy.” But I know better. Nothing about this is easy.
“This is what we do, Clover,” Agent Lamott says gently. “We root around in the sewer until the rats land in our traps. I only wish Vivian had reached out sooner.” He pauses as Grant stiffens. “But I do understand why she didn’t trust just any agent.”
He meets my eye. “Even within my department, not everyone can be trusted, and you and Valen were too valuable to her to leave anything to chance.”
“What happens now?” I ask again. Agent Lamott watches me carefully, then stands and buttons his coat. “Terra will be held in a supermax facility. Her trial is being fast-tracked and will be off record. Any secrets about the O’Connells or Harringtons will die with her in solitary confinement.”
“But…why?” Nothing is this open-and-shut. There’s always a trap door somewhere.
“As I said, your father was a good man, Clover, and he was my friend. His love for you was fierce, and while I don’t agree with Vivian’s methods, I do believe that both of your families have been through enough.”
“That’s it? It’s just…over?”
“As far as you being safe, yes, it’s over. But this was the first loose thread in the sweater, Clover. I’ve learned that once pulled, the rest unravels quickly. Terra wasn’t the only opportunist out there, but with her incarcerated, we’ll begin the work of tracking down others just like her.”
“What about the other kids? The ones like me?” I ask.
He tilts his head to the side and studies me like I’m an equation he can’t solve, then a small, kind smile curls at the corner of his lips.
“When Vivian and Miriam brought down ROS, Vivian took care of those children and families just as she took care of you by placing you with the Danforths. They’ve had access to therapy, education, everything she could think of to give them a fresh start. ”
I frown, but he’s staring at Grant now.
“Vivian was a good woman, son. The lengths she went to for all of you, well, it’s not something I see a lot of in my line of work.”
Grant swallows thickly.
“I assume you’ll help Clover access her inheritance once we sort through the legalities of it?” Lamott asks.
“Of course,” Grant says tightly. “That was never in question.”
“My what?”
Agent Lamott smiles down at me. “Clover, the Harringtons aren’t the only billionaires in the room. You’re the last remaining O’Connell heir.”
Holy. Shit. How the hell did that slip my mind?
The next morning, I’m standing on the front porch of the inn, watching the sun rise over Happiness.
I haven’t slept. I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see Valen’s face in the clearing—the horror, the recognition, the complete and utter devastation as his memories came flooding back.
The door creaks behind me, and I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
“You should be sleeping,” Chief says, settling into a chair beside me with a groan. His head is bandaged, and he’s holding ice to his swollen lip, but his eyes are as sharp as ever.
“So should you.”
“Eh.” He waves a hand dismissively. “There’s plenty of time for sleep when I’m dead.”
A weary laugh escapes me. Leave it to Chief to joke about death after what we’ve been through.
“You know,” he says after a long moment, “I’ve only known that boy for a couple of months now, but I’ve known you for years. And I know human nature, kiddo. So I can tell you with absolute certainty that neither one of you is going to survive this if you don’t talk to each other.”
“Chief—”
“I’m not sayin’ you have to forgive him.
I’m not even sayin’ you have to love him—though you’d be a damn fool to walk away now.
Hell, all I’m saying is that boy upstairs is drowning in guilt for something he did when he was barely old enough to tie his own shoes, and you’re down here drowning in guilt for not knowing how to move forward. ”
He fixes me with that no-nonsense stare that has never once allowed me out of a self-defense lesson. “Seems to me like you’re both drowning but you’re too stubborn to grab hold of the raft. Leave the drowning to Romeo and Juliette, huh? Or was that Ophelia?”
“Chief, regardless of which Shakespearean tragedy you’re horribly misrepresenting, that’s still terrible advice.”
“Probably.” He shrugs. “But it’s the best I’ve got at six in the morning with a concussion.”
I wince, remembering the dried blood on the side of his head.
“You never should have put yourself in harm’s way,” I grumble. “I’m still mad at you about that.”
“You can be mad because you’re alive, Clover. I wouldn’t have done a damn thing differently to keep it that way neither, so you just let me know when you’re done being mad. Good?”
When I don’t reply, he reaches over and pats my hand. “You’re out here ’cause you’re scared of what the future holds now, Clover.”
I swallow hard.
“And he’s up there ’cause he’s scared of what the past has done.
One of you is gonna have to take that leap and trust the fall.
Now.” He leans back in his chair and folds his arms behind his head.
“I don’t know who the bravest will be, but I’ve seen you do some pretty incredible stuff these last few months. ”
I meet his gaze.
“My bet’s on you. I’m always bettin’ on you, kid.”