Chapter 34 Lucy
LUCY
“Your father’s a fool,” Wren says as they peer at their laptop screen.
I tear a piece off the cinnamon bun that Quinn put in the bag of baked goods for us. “You’re telling me something I know. But what are you specifically referring to?”
Wren doesn’t look up. “His need for a paper trail, whether in his notebooks or digital, has left him exposed. He’s connected this phone to cloud storage.
Which, now that I have phone access, I can share the files and see them on my laptop.
But, they’re chronologically incomplete. There are some years that are missing.”
Catfish stuffs the rest of a croissant into his mouth. “The average person uses the cloud all the time, though. Don’t businesses use it and shit?”
Little bits of pastry escape his mouth, and Wren rolls their eyes.
“Please don’t talk with food in your mouth; it’s gross.
Yes, people do. But if I was making a repository of potentially life-ruining data, I wouldn’t just stick it in the cloud for anyone to hack.
But it’s more than that. The request to transfer the money from the club account was initiated from your father’s laptop. ”
“Someone else must have done it, though. I haven’t spent any time with my father in years, but he was always useless with tech. It’s such a stretch to think he has the skills to do that.”
Wren nods. “I agree. Given the way your father organizes his files, I don’t think he is the one who did it. Any person who labels files as ‘final’ and ‘final v2’ and ‘most final’ is no technical wizard. My guess is someone else has access to his machine, somehow.”
Regardless of who did it, it’s the final nail in his coffin, and I know it. You can’t be involved in stealing from men like Grudge and hope they forgive you.
“Why green?” Catfish asks suddenly.
“Why green what?” I ask.
He points to Wren’s hair.
Wren looks down at the ends of their hair. “Matrix.”
Catfish side-eyes me, as confused as I am. “What?”
Wren finally looks up. “Think the green and black of the Matrix movie. Less neon, though, because I didn’t want to bleach my hair.”
“Huh,” Catfish says, then shoots forward in his chair. “The chick in that movie was smoking hot. All that PVC and leather.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, you remember her outfit.”
Catfish shrugs. “In fairness, I remember her body and the way she could kick ass in heels. My mom loved all those movies, would watch them at least once a month. They were the source of many an uncomfortable teenage boner.”
Wren palms their forehead. “I think you’ve forgotten this isn’t the clubhouse and we aren’t your brothers.”
Catfish chuckles. “What’re you going to do? Complain to HR?”
The lawyer in me has all sorts of thoughts on this conversation, but I can’t help but smile as I shake my head. “Can we get some focus, please? Wren. You were talking about my dad.”
“I’ve loaded all the data I have into a machine learning application,” Wren says. “It’s cross-referencing with your father’s case and client list and with online resources about the Midtown Rebels. It will be quicker at assimilating all this new information while we wait to fill the gaps.”
“Wait. What if we’re looking in the wrong place?” Catfish says. He gestures over the table at all the gadgets. “We’re assuming that the intel we need is digital. What if it’s not. What if it’s still physical?”
I sit forward too. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a time gap in the data,” Catfish says. “And your father isn’t a tech wizard. What if there are more notebooks somewhere?”
“Oh, God. Or another laptop, with the information held locally.” I think, for a second. “I searched Dad’s law office, but I never searched Dad’s office at home.”
Catfish nods. “Exactly.”
“I’ll go check,” I say, jumping to my feet. “I’m not much use while Wren is running all the data.”
“I’ll go with you,” Catfish says.
I shake my head. “No. Your job is to protect Wren. It’s literally ten minutes away.
It’s daylight. It’s public. I’ll be fine.
I’m probably the one person who can come and go from here and not draw attention.
And I still have Dad’s truck with access to the front gate.
I can be in and out. If Mom’s home, I’ll just tell her I’ve come for more of my stuff. ”
Catfish looks torn.
“Look, I’ll call Grudge. I’ll let him know where I’m going and have him meet me. Okay?”
“Fine,” Catfish says, reaching for the sheathed knife on his belt. “Take this.”
“You’re over worrying,” I say. “It’ll look weirder if I show up and Mom sees me carrying a large knife.”
“At least, take it with you in your truck. I’ll feel better,” Catfish says.
“Bingo,” Wren says suddenly. “These initials are starting to line up. Some are the initials of judges, that link with the initials of clients and the timing of their trials. Some payments from your father line up with the initials of active Rebels club members. If I didn’t know a single thing about these people, I’d say your father is bribing judges for his clients, and the Rebels are somehow blackmailing him because they know. ”
I fiddle with the strap on the knife sheath and drop my head. “Shit.”
I don’t mention my father’s affair. Not yet. Maybe it’s time I killed two birds with one stone and tell my mother, while I’m home, what I know. It’s going to come out one way or another, as my father’s deeds unravel.
But beneath the practicalities, a light goes out in the last sliver of my heart, that I guess held out hope that my father was not the man I thought he was.
My life will change. People will speculate whether I’m as corrupt as he is. They’ll wonder if the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. And my mother’s world will fall apart.
Yet, regardless of all that, what we’re doing is the right thing. I want it all exposed. I want justice for Zach and all the other people my father has screwed over.
Catfish puts his hand on my back. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”
I stand up straight. “It is what it is.”
“Before you leave, tell me as much as you can about your parents’ security system,” Wren says. “If they have cameras, I’ll find a way to tap into them through the security company, just so we have an eye on you.”
“You can do that?” Catfish raises an eyebrow.
“Child’s play,” Wren says as I scribble what little I know about the provider and my father’s basic details such as name and address.
“Can you tap into other cameras on the street, like the bakery’s and others?” Catfish asks. “Would be good to have eyes on the whole street.”
“I’m a magician, Catfish. The sooner you catch on that I can do just about anything, the better.”
Catfish taps the tabletop with his fingers. “You want to magic a new attitude? Dial down the ego, dial up the charm, a little.”
Wren flips him off. “Next thing we know, you’re gonna be telling me to smile more.”
Catfish grins at that. “Wouldn’t hurt. Would make the scenery around here much more pleasant.”
“Catfish,” I admonish as I slide the paper to Wren. “Stop.”
He puts his hands up in surrender.
“I’ll also hack into the central system at your father’s law firm and run some searches,” Wren says. “See if I can find anything else. It could be a company-wide thing that is bigger than your father. It’s all going to take some time to set up and start running.”
“I thought you said you were a magician,” Catfish teases.
Wren shakes their head. “I am. But I’m not a miracle worker. I can get what we need, but it will take time.”
“Prioritize Dad’s central system,” I say. “I can handle my mother.”
“Any thoughts on what the best use of my time is?” Catfish asks.
Wren is already head down on their computer. “You could make me some coffee.”
“I’m going,” I say with a grin, tugging on my winter coat. “Please don’t kill each other.”
I call Grudge as I walk. He doesn’t answer, but I smile when I get to his voicemail message.
I’m out. Leave a message.
Said in a tone that suggests he really couldn’t be bothered setting up a voicemail and really doesn’t want to hear from anyone.
“Hey, Daddy,” I say, playfully. “I’m just headed to check out Dad’s home office. We decided there might be more to find. Feel free to meet me there, or I’ll message you when I’m headed back to the apartment.”
The silence of the ride over gives the illusion of safety.
The kind that settles deep in your bones.
And while I was fine getting to the truck, my palms sweat as I repeatedly check the rearview mirror on the drive to my parents’ home, in-between rehearsing how I’m going to tell her about Dad’s affair and ensuing blackmail.
The sensor on the gates recognizes Dad’s truck and swing open. Someone has already been by to plow the few inches of snow that’s fallen. Even now, there’s a piece of me that just wants to throw the truck into reverse and leave.
But new me doesn’t run. Not from my past. Not from uncomfortable confrontations with family. And definitely not from this house.
I kill the engine, and the cold air bites into my skin as I hurry to the front door. There’s a thin drift of fresh snow lacing the edges of the three shallow steps.
I don’t know if Wren has connected to the security camera, but I wave up at it, just in case.
As I let myself into the house, the heat hits me, along with the scent of furniture polish and my mother’s overly floral perfume. Kicking the door shut, I tuck my keys into my coat pocket. There is a dish on the hallway’s round console table that holds extra pairs of cufflinks and a few coins.
I recall a fleeting memory of my father showing me how he could flip those coins across his knuckles. Maybe, once upon a time, he was more than the man he is now.
“Lucy?” My mom’s voice floats down the stairs from the upstairs den. “Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” I trudge up the stairs, the old runner muffling my footsteps. When I find Mom, she’s sitting on the edge of the sofa in a cardigan I bought her last Christmas. There are shadows under her eyes, and from the cushions, it looks as though she’d been napping.