Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Rated B for bitch.
—Sage’s secret thoughts
Sage
“Look at this,” Romeo twisted his computer around.
We all looked at what he had pulled up on his screen, and I frowned. “What’s that?”
“Doctor’s visit in Bozeman,” he said. “What’s the medical jargon mean?”
I read over the ER visit notes and felt my gut clench.
“Broken ulna. Head contusion. Possible TBI,” I read. “The doctor called child protective services. Parents found out and fled. They used a false name, so they were never able to follow up.”
“How’d you find this?” Romeo asked his brother-in-law.
“Facial recognition software thanks to NSA. National Security Agency,” he answered my question before I could ask. “I searched through everything with Nadine’s and Brooke’s faces. Anything they’ve done over the last seven years should be here.”
Apollo had just admitted to hacking the NSA.
That was nuts to me.
I wiped at my tired eyes and went back to the medical records that I was reading.
“They used their close medical facilities at first,” I said to no one in particular.
“Bumps. Bruises. Broken arms. Concussions. All of it blamed on sports. But they stopped going to their close facilities when one time Nadine Wood blamed a broken arm on soccer, and it wasn’t soccer season.
The doctor got suspicious and confronted her. Never went back.”
“And none of these doctors followed up?” Mable asked.
“Not a one,” I answered.
“Jesus,” Mable muttered. “Mandatory reporters, my ass.”
“Kid’s arm has been broken four times. Two right, two left.” Apollo tapped away on his computer. “What else?”
We spoke for another thirty minutes before Mable said, “Let’s break for coffee. I’m about to crash.”
I was, too.
So I got the coffee and used that time to walk around and loosen my limbs.
I wondered if Gentry had gotten any sleep.
I looked at the clock and saw it was nearly three in the morning.
Was he awake?
If I texted, would I wake him?
“You okay?”
I looked over at Mable who was busy pouring coffees.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
She snorted. “I highly doubt it, my friend.”
“Okay, so I’m not fine,” I admitted. “I’m a lot of things, but fine isn’t one of them. But I’m not really sure what to say.”
“You can finally let go of that guilt.”
I looked over at her with surprise. “What?”
“The guilt that I see in your eyes every single time I look into them,” she said softly. “First off, you should’ve never felt guilty. I don’t know your entire story, but I know some of it. Gentry shared a small amount when he first moved here. It wasn’t your fault.”
I blew out a breath. “It might not have been mine directly, but it was my life that was fucked up. And by Gentry wading into it, he practically signed his son’s death warrant. Had he not helped that day, his son would’ve still been there for him to fight for.”
“They would’ve found something else to fuck with him about,” Romeo said almost distractedly. “Going back to their earlier emails, they were already in touch with a man that was supposed to get them new identities. Who just so happens to be interlinked with the Irish Mob.”
I scrubbed at my face. “This is nuts.”
“This is real,” Apollo said. “Going off of what you just said, I see several communications between the wife, Brooke, and an undercover company that helps with abuse victims. Free. They spoke in length about services that would help them get new identities. A place to move. A witness protection program for abused women. They’re pretty much an underground railroad of men that find abuse victims a new life.
New job. Different places to live. Pretty much what I did with Gentry and the others.
Only, after a few emails back and forth, Free became suspicious and said that they don’t believe she’s being truthful.
” He sat back in his chair. “They’re really good. I like how they’ve done this.”
I took a sip of coffee. “Make contact with Free and ask them why they felt suspicious of them. Do you have all their email correspondence?”
“No, they’re good. I only have a few emails, most of them were Brooke’s replies back to them.
The emails on their end disappeared. Brooke, however, recapped almost everything she said and they said from the previous emails, going down the list like a bullet point.
If it wasn’t for her recapping, I wouldn’t have any idea what’s going on.
I only got the name ‘Free’ out of the emails, too, because of some digging I’ve done on my own. ”
I sat back down to get back to digging.
By the time we were done, and it was time for me to go to work, I’d pretty much been convinced that even if I hadn’t hated Brooke and Nadine Wood before for having stolen Gentry’s son and told the world he was dead, I would’ve despised them with what I’d found.
Over seventy-two doctor visits over a six-and-a-half-year period—since they’d moved to Montana.
When you put all the visits together, no one in their right mind would’ve been able to deny the allegations.
Over seven broken bones. Six concussions. Several lacerations requiring stitches. Even more bruises and ‘sicknesses.’
Had I seen this chart as a complete picture, there would be no way that the cops wouldn’t be called. I’d have fought tooth and nail for that child to never see his parents again.
“Wait.” Mable leaned back. “This is confusing. What’s this mean?”
I leaned into her as she stood at the counter next to me, reading printouts of text messages exchanged between an Arkansas number and Nadine Wood.
Nadine:
He’s yours. Here’s the proof.
Unknown:
we’ve been over this. You’ve already said he’s my brother’s. Don’t contact me again. And don’t play me for a fool again, either. You’ve already brought my brother into this and he doesn’t know it. Just let it go.
Nadine:
I’m being serious. He’s yours.
Unknown:
Sure. Just fuck off.
Nadine:
I’ll just go after your brother for child support then.
Unknown:
Leave him out of this. I’m serious.
Nadine:
Someone’s helping to pay for this. Brooke won’t be okay with this after everything you’ve done.
There were more, but my heart was pounding in my throat as I went back up to the attachment from earlier.
It was DNA results.
I squinted but couldn’t read it.
“Apollo, do you have a larger copy of this attachment?”
“Here,” Romeo said. “It’s a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me.”
I read it, then felt my heart pound.
“Can you find out who this number is?” I asked Apollo, handing him the printout.
He read it, then started typing into his computer. “It’s Gentry’s brother, Van Kelly. Why?”
I nearly fainted.
“Do you…” I cleared my throat. “Do you happen to have any, um, DNA on Gentry?”
Apollo frowned. “No, but I can pull up the prison system.”
I nodded, feeling my head start to pound.
“What is it?” Romeo asked.
I swallowed hard. “If I am reading this correctly…Gentry isn’t the father of Dean. Gentry’s brother, Van, is.”
“Oh, fuck.”
As I walked into work that day, my feet were already dragging.
Around noon, I headed home to check on Neo, who let me actually pet him today.
I was sure that he knew that I needed the comfort.
Gentry and Dean were nowhere to be found, so I made a quick sandwich and was out the door and back to work a couple of minutes later.
Thankfully, the snow was gone, allowing me to drive back to work.
Unluckily, by the time that I got done with work, the snow was back.
Odin gave me a ride home and informed me that I needed a new vehicle.
By the time I arrived, all the lights were off in the house still, so I didn’t try to head to Gentry’s place.
Instead, I fed Neo and fell into bed utterly exhausted.
When I woke up the next morning, there was a text message from Apollo on my screen.
Apollo:
Results are conclusive. Gentry’s not Dean’s father…Van is.
Fuck.