Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Knight
Iput the mug and pot down before I look up at her.
“Who?” She doesn’t answer.
Her hands are shaking. Her mouth is open, but I can hear her wheezing like she can’t get a full breath in.
“Babe, who?” I come around and grab her shoulders.
“My stepfather,” I remember her mentioning him once.
It’s the reason she works at the shelter. To honor her mom’s memory. It was a murder suicide when she was a teen. I don’t have all the details since I didn’t want to push, but it seems like I’ll need to ask the tough questions now.
Sighing, I ask the simplest.
“Are you sure it’s him?” Maybe it’s a close relative.
My family seems to clone itself, and if you put me next to a thirty-six-year-old version of my father, we’d pass as twins.
“Maybe, God, it’s like looking at a ghost. Where was this taken?” And here’s the part I don’t want to admit but have to.
“Outside our gates, about three hours ago.” She shakes her head and starts mumbling about it not being possible.
This proud, resilient, strong woman is so scared that she has lost the ability to speak. I hug her to my chest and stare at the photo. The man in that photo can’t be more than forty years old. It can’t possibly be her stepfather.
She’s never mentioned siblings.
I rub her back as I think through all the possibilities of who this fucker can be. Spector has a name and a question mark circled at the top.
Lawrence Franco?
“Babe, is this his name?” I tap the paper, trying to get her attention, but it’s like her brain has clocked out.
I need answers, and I’m not getting them from Jenna, so I reach for my phone and call Spector.
“Busy,” he answers rudely.
“Like I give a fuck. Get up here and explain this shit.” I hang up and pull Jenna up into my arms, moving to the couch so I can cradle her better.
“I’m okay,” she whispers into my chest.
“The fuck you are. But it’s alright. I just need you to remember that you’re safe here and with me.” I kiss her head.
“He hurt her so bad.” My ears prickle as I try to hear her words over the drumming of my own heart.
“I came home from school, and the kitchen was destroyed. Blood covered every surface. Not puddles like in the movies, just a few drops here, a finger or handprint there. I could follow the progression of the fight like breadcrumbs to their bodies.” Jesus Christ.
I want to tell her she doesn’t need to relive this, but any information she can remember might be helpful, and fuck if I’m going to make her repeat any of this.
“I found Mom first at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were still open. I thought at first that I had heard her call my name, but she was cold when I touched her. Then a loud boom echoed in my ears, and I ran to the study. Larry was in his office chair holding his gun. My eyes wouldn’t move from his hand.
I didn’t want to ever look at him again.
So I sat on the office floor and just stared at it until the police came.
A neighbor had called after hearing the gun go off.
” My eyes close, and I fight back the urge to kill a man who’s already dead.
“That photo can’t be him.” Her voice holds a hell of a lot more conviction now, and I glance down to see her looking at me.
“I believe you.” She nods and sits up, adjusting my robe on her body.
The knock on the door makes her jump slightly, telling me the shock is wearing off, but still very present. I stand, leaving her on the couch to open the door.
“Spector,” I greet him as I open the door wider to let him in.
“Lawrence Franco Sr. deceased, married three times, had one son, Franco Jr. First wife died in a car accident that he survived. Second, she divorced him after having his only child, but then died on a fishing trip with her father. Child raised by Franco’s mother in Boston.
Senior was in and out of his life until his death.
” I glance at Jenna as he keeps spewing information without so much as a “hello” or “how are you.”
Asshole.
“I never knew he even existed, so what the fuck does he want from me?” Spector crosses his arms as he looks at Jenna with a frown.
“Well, I don’t know because lover boy here called me away from my work. Wanna get some pants on, VP? I’m not fucking impressed.” Fuck!
I stomp into the bedroom and grab a pair of sweats. I hop into them as I make my way back to Jenna. Who is giggling on the couch? I think she’s on the verge of hysterics when she smiles at me.
“He’s funny.” She points at Spector, and I frown.
This man couldn’t find a joke if his life depended on it.
“If you say so.” Spector rolls his eyes, picks up Jenna’s coffee cup, and chugs it.
“Good coffee.” I grind my molars as he rinses the mug and puts it in the drain rack.
“So I had, have, a stepbrother? Do you know anything else about him?” Jenna fists the fabric of the robe as she asks, pulling it as she waits for an answer.
It’s the only very nervous tick I’ve ever seen her make.
“Not much. High school grad, normal work history, no criminal record, he’s an internet ghost, but I’ll keep digging.” He taps his knuckles on my counter and then leaves with a small nod in my direction.
“How good at his job is he?” Jenna says, biting her lip.
“The fucking best. If this Franco guy has a pimple on his ass, Spector will get a photo of it for his file. Why?” Anxiety is rolling off her in waves, so I sit next to her and pry open her fingers that still have a death grip on the robe.
“Sorry,” she tries to smooth out the fabric like I give a fuck about wrinkles.
“I don’t care about the robe. I care about you. Talk to me. What are you worried Spector is going to find?” Her bottom lip wobbles.
“I think I know why he’s after me.” I nod, encouraging her to keep talking.
“The life insurance policy. I never understood why they had so much, but after the burial expenses and all the remaining debts were paid, it went into a trust for me when I turned twenty-one. So I paid off my student loans and donated the rest to the shelter to build a new wing.” She looks away nervously.
“How much are we talking? A few grand?” She shakes her head and blows out a large breath.
“Five million.”
Oh.