Chapter 7 #2
It took just a few minutes to round the last corner before my dad’s house. My focus was on Ryan as he maneuvered his wheelchair up the walkway, so I didn’t notice the car and the man standing next to it at first. But when I did, I recognized him instantly and came to a grinding halt.
Declan Barretti.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as the familiar cold went through me. My father was dead because of this man. He might not have pulled the trigger and he might not have been the one who’d ignored my father’s pleas for help, but he’d condemned him to death just the same.
“I need to talk to you and your father.”
I knew I was probably squeezing Cruz’s hand too hard, so I turned to send him a silent apology, but found that he wasn’t looking at me at all. His eyes were on Declan and his mouth was pulled into a tight frown.
Worried that he’d figured out who Declan was and that he might go after the man, I started to step between them, but stopped suddenly when Declan said, “I’m sorry, Cruz. It couldn’t wait.”
A chill ran down my spine when he said Cruz’s name. The way he’d spoken to him, it was like… he knew him.
“You two… you two know each other?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure which man I was even asking.
“Let’s go inside, Elliot. It’s safer to talk in there,” Cruz said calmly.
I dropped his hand as if I’d been burned. Why the hell wasn’t he denying it?
“No,” I whispered, as understanding slowly dawned. “No,” I said again with a shake of my head.
Cruz grabbed my upper arms in a firm hold. “Elliot, look at me—”
“No!” I spat out as I tore free from him. “How do you know each other?”
Cruz was clearly agitated and looked from Declan to me and back to Declan again. When Declan nodded, Cruz said, “Declan asked me to keep an eye on you after you were attacked a couple of nights ago. He was worried for your safety.”
Bile crawled up my throat as I realized what he was saying.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as I took a step back. Then another. “Oh my God,” I repeated dumbly as things began to click into place.
“Elliot,” Cruz said as he approached me, but the second he touched me, I lashed out at him. “Don’t you touch me!” I screamed. I hit him in the chest, but all it did was hurt the hell out of my hand.
“Elliot?”
My dad’s voice broke through the terrible keening sound that was piercing my brain. Then he was there, his strong arms going around me. “What did you do to him?” A moment later, he said, “You! What the hell are you doing here?”
I forced myself to pull free of my dad’s arms. “Dad, let’s go inside,” I said.
My only thought was getting my dad away from the man who’d destroyed our lives with one act of cowardice and the man who’d just destroyed my heart with his lies.
I looked around for Ryan and saw that he was still up near the front door.
He was clearly upset and confused by what was happening.
“Sam, Elliot, I’m afraid I need to talk to you,” Declan said.
“Go to hell,” my dad snapped. “You’ve done enough.”
I took my father’s arm and began walking up the walkway, but Declan’s next words stopped me cold.
“Elliot, Edward White is dead. So are the two men who attacked you two nights ago.”
“What?” I managed to get out. I could see that Cruz was just as surprised by the news as me.
“Elliot, what is he talking about? What men? The ones who vandalized the foundation?” My dad was completely confused, though I wasn’t far behind him.
“Please, let’s take this inside,” Declan implored and I finally nodded.
There were still a few people out and about, on their way home from trick-or-treating, no doubt.
My father and I hurried up the walkway to calm Ryan down.
Once inside the house, my dad got Ryan settled in his room with his favorite movie.
I’d retreated to one corner of the living room in an attempt to get as far away from Cruz as I could. I felt like I was going to throw up.
He’d lied to me.
The whole thing had been a carefully orchestrated lie.
My body felt cold so I wrapped my arms around myself.
The things I’d said to him. The things I’d let him do to me. I automatically lifted my eyes to look at Cruz – to see if I could see how I’d missed the truth so easily – but I nearly stopped breathing when I found his eyes on me. And I could tell he knew what I was thinking.
“It wasn’t, El,” he said softly. “I swear it wasn’t. Not all of it.”
I laughed. It was an ugly, almost inhuman sound. Was he really expecting the fact that it supposedly hadn’t all been a lie to make me feel better? “I don’t believe you,” I said simply.
“Talk,” I heard my dad say as he reentered the room. On most days, my dad was a pretty easygoing guy, but I’d never seen him angrier. If looks could kill, Declan would be six feet under. Cruz probably would, too.
“After Elliot was attacked the other night, I was worried that there was something he wasn’t telling me about the whole thing when my officers and I questioned him,” Declan began.
My dad’s gaze shifted to me. “Was there?” he asked.
I nodded. “I told him that I walked in on the guys, but they followed me in. They had a message for me,” I said.
My father’s anger slipped away and was replaced with concern. “What message?”
“They told me it was a mistake to steal from someone named White. They said I had three days to get him his money back.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Declan asked. “I could have helped you.”
“Like you helped my father?” I asked.
The man instantly paled and I felt a surprising pang of guilt.
“Elliot,” Cruz said. I forced myself to look at him, even though it hurt like hell.
“I get it, okay?” he said. “Declan gets it too. He fucked up. But he couldn’t have known what would happen to your father.
He was a scared kid who probably has a story just like you do,” he said. He glanced at my dad. “Like we all do.”
I wanted to disagree with him, but deep down I knew there was logic to his argument. It didn’t ease the hurt, but lashing out at Declan Barretti didn’t, either. And it didn’t bring my father back.
“I figured I could find out what happened to the money and return it and everything would be fine,” I said to Declan. I looked at my dad and said, “I didn’t find the money, but the transaction to move the money out of the account had your authorization code on it.”
My dad shook his head. “That’s impossible. I haven’t even logged into the system in months.”
“Did anyone have access to your code?” Cruz asked.
“No,” my dad said, but then hesitated. “Blake… Blake did.”
I knew who he was talking about almost instantly.
Blake Dierenger had been my dad’s assistant at one point.
He’d become a junior Investment Associate after my dad had retired.
But someone at that level had no reason to be accessing an account like the White one.
And certainly not with my dad’s credentials.
“Why would he—” My father’s voice dropped off and he frowned.
I turned my attention to Declan. “You said you found Mr. White and his men dead?” I asked. “How did you even know to look for them?”
Declan’s eyes dropped to the ground, which was answer enough. But Cruz confirmed it a moment later when he said, “I sent him a picture of your notepad from last night.”
My knees felt weak and I had to sit down in a nearby armchair. God, I’d been such a complete fool.
“When I got the information from Cruz, I began investigating and discovered that Edward White was really a man named Edward Turnvall. He had an extensive arrest record including extortion, racketeering, assault, and money laundering. There was an outstanding warrant on him, so I took some officers to the address he used for his account with you. We found his body, along with those of two men fitting the descriptions you gave me, in the garage of his townhouse. It looked like they were ambushed as they were getting out of their car. They probably never saw it coming.”
Declan’s gaze shifted to my dad. “I’d like to put you and your family in protective custody until we figure out what happened. There’s a possibility that the deaths had nothing to do with the missing money, but it’s not worth taking a chance.”
I saw my dad nod. “Yes, alright.” I knew how hard it must have been for him to accept the offer, but he had bigger priorities than his hatred of Declan Barretti.
“Good, I’ll—”
That was as far as Declan got before a computerized voice interrupted with a simple, “Daddy.” Before my dad could go check on my brother, Ryan’s wheelchair rounded the corner from the hallway leading to his room.
But my little brother wasn’t alone.
No, standing right behind him with a gun pointed at the little boy’s head was Blake Dierenger, my father’s former assistant.