Chapter 22
Sean
While Lillian showers, I wave to the hall security cams before knocking on the first door to my right.
Seconds later, footsteps. After the lock clicks and hinges creak, the bulletproof steel swings out.
Dark circles under her eyes, hair in a messy ponytail, Rebecca stands in front of me. If I had to guess, she hasn’t slept.
“Come in…” She studies my face. “How’s my sister?”
Because Lil is her only family, not counting me and Grams, I stick to the truth. “She lost a couple of hours she’ll never get back. Other than that, and exhaustion, she’s fine.”
Inside the kitchen, my grandmother glances up from her sketchbook. Face scrunched, she bites the end of a colored pencil. “You wouldn’t think penises would be so difficult to draw.”
“Perhaps…” Her roommate winks at me as she opens a drawer. “We should book the model for a private showing.”
“Don’t give her any ideas.” Averting my eyes from the drawing, I pull out a chair and straddle it. “Grams, last night, you mentioned my father?”
“Oh yes.” She grabs a flesh-toned Prismacolor from a box of fifty. “He emailed again. Threatened to send me to a nursing home. He can’t, can he?”
“It depends.” My shoulders tense under a heavy load of guilt. For too long, I’d put off our estate planning conversation. This clusterfuck’s on me.
As always, my grandmother reads my mind. “Not your fault. My husband, your grandfather, ruined Roger.”
“How long has he been threatening you?” While I wait for an answer, a mug of steaming coffee appears in front of me.
“Thanks.” I smile at Becks.
“Sure. Looked like you could use it.” The Keurig gurgles as she makes another.
“None for me.” Grams continues sketching, deep in thought. “My son wasn’t happy about my Madam Woo Woo business—said it reflected poorly on him—though I can’t see how. In fact, I went to his office to have it out with him.”
After another moment, the scratching on paper stops, and her mouth drops open. “That’s what I needed to tell you. The man beside Lillian last night was arguing with Roger the day I visited.”
“Are you sure?” My mind races through possibilities.
She points her colored pencil, a poor substitute for the wooden spoon. “I may be old, but my memory is sharp, young man.”
I tamp down my hopes. “Could you hear what was said?” Perhaps this is the break we’ve needed.
“No. They clammed up the moment they saw me.”
Holy fuck. Daddy-dearest and Jeffy. What are the odds?
“Thanks, Grams.” Standing, I kiss her head. “Don’t worry. I’ll straighten out Roger. Okay? Do me a favor. Stay here. And no weird candle smoke shit.”
Anxious to share my news, I say goodbye, then take the stairs two at a time. Passing the conference room, I run into the office and skid to a stop at the desk where Mace and Dante stare at a computer screen.
My boss motions me in, then replays a file dated last night. “You need to hear this. The audio cleaned up well.”
After he clicks the play button, the small laptop speaker vibrates with Lillian’s voice. “Mine and Sean’s stupid little joke. Our moment. Not hers.”
“You mean nondenominational holiday balls?” Jeff asks her.
“Stop right there.” My heart races. “Play that section again.”
After listening twice more, I explain my excitement. “Lillian set him up. She said demonical, and Pearson corrected her. He couldn’t have known… unless he was there, or—”
“Someone told him about it.” Dante finishes my thought.
“But no one knew our inside joke, except close friends, certainly not him.” As my mind buzzes with possibilities, Daedalus’s head pops up on the screen.
“Let’s not forget your lady bomber.” His comment sparks another thought.
“Did we ever learn her identity?” With everything going on, I’d forgotten all about her.
“Give me a moment.”
Seconds later, he flashes a driver’s license on screen. “Simone Hart. Forensics found metal pins from a childhood wrist fracture.”
“What else did they learn?” I press. Surely, there’s some connection to our case.
As a police report pops up on the computer, Daed says, “She was reported missing from the Serenity Rose Psych Care Facility in Roseland, NJ early March… Wealthy family with no ties to Parkhaven or Pearson, or Liam Boyle or you… nothing.”
Dammit. It can’t be. I wander to the window. Below on the street, traffic honks at a trailer truck backing into a warehouse. The driver missed his mark. Stuck, he inches back and forth.
I know the feeling.
“Any chance Hart frequented Club Concrete? Perhaps she’s a leftover from my last case.” My fingertips drum the sill while somewhere out west, the data analyst taps his keyboard.
“FBI confiscated the recordings,” he says. “I’ll see if I can get access. Most would’ve been scrubbed by now except for crime footage. I have AI scanning social media posts for her face. She’ll show up somewhere.”
Frowning, I return to the desk. “How about Lilly and I take a field trip to this Psych facility? Talk to the staff?”
After a long pause, Dante nods as he pushes his hair out of his face.
“You’ll want to be careful,” Daedalus adds. “The place reeks of old money. The kind that buys just about anything.”
“Including looking the other way if someone disappears?” My question, more rhetorical than not, hangs in the air. When no one answers, a new thought cuts in.
“I almost forgot.” Wandering back to the wall of glass, I pause. “My grandmother added one more turd to this pile of shit. Might want to put on your waders.”
As Dante and Mace turn, I pace back so Daed can hear. “Not sure how this fits in, but my grandmother swears she saw my father arguing with Jeff Pearson.”
“Not surprising,” My boss scowls at the screen. “Parkhaven needs investors. Your father has access to a lot of money.”
My frustration maxes out. “Then why the fuck would he let me use his name to investigate them?”
No one answers.
I didn’t expect them to.