37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
Pony
We’re both subdued for the rest of the trip. I’m not sure what’s going through Remi’s head, but I’m still reeling from what she shared with me.
The bus rumbles along until Remington announces, “This is our stop.”
I don’t ask what we’re doing here. The area has the feel of a small town lost in time. The streets are clean, and the people are friendly, smiling as we pass. Everyone seems to know her. They smile and call her by name. It makes me wonder if this is the neighborhood where she grew up.
I follow along while we make a stop for a six-pack of beer, and then Remi steers me in the opposite direction toward a deli. When we enter, the man behind the counter smiles and greets her by name.
I peruse the menu. “What’s good here?”
“Everything,” she answers without hesitation. The man working the counter gives her a wide grin.
We place our order. Remi adds a container of homemade pickles and an extra sandwich. I want to ask her about it but don’t push her. I won’t risk her shutting down again.
I carry the food and beer. Remi clutches her grocery bag against her chest like it holds state secrets.
“Where are we going?” I ask when my curiosity gets the better of me.
“We’re going to Lenny’s. He taught me everything I know about photography.”
She did mention visiting a friend, but I have a feeling there’s more to it than that.
I follow her until we’re strolling up the walk of a gorgeous, well-preserved old Victorian and she rings the doorbell.
The sixty-something man who answers the door hugs Remi and gives me a knowing grin. “Lenny Goldman,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand. “You must be Colton.”
Who is this man to her? My eyes shift from him to Remi and back again. What has she told him about me?
I shake his offered hand. His free hand squeezes my shoulder with surprising firmness for a man of his age.
“We brought a nosh,” Remi announces as he swings the door open, and we step inside.
She raises the grocery bag she’s been guarding. “The film came today.”
“Well then, what’s stopping you?” Lenny asks. “Don’t worry about Colton. I’ll entertain him. It’ll give us time to get to know each other. Go. Go process the negatives.”
Whatever she captured on film—the atrocity that’s been haunting her—is in that bag. It’s the reason her friend is dead, and why she was tortured.
When her fearful eyes meet mine, I see her need for reassurance.
I set down the bags and cross the room, cupping my hands on either side of her neck.
“You’re safe here and you’re not alone anymore,” I keep my voice gentle.
“This is what you’ve been waiting for, honey.
No matter what secrets you documented, whatever happens next, I know you’re strong enough to face it. ”
Her eyes drift closed. She releases a shaky breath and nods her head. I place a lingering kiss to her forehead and watch her disappear into the basement.
While we wait, I notice Lenny doesn’t seem worried, but my eyes keep wandering to the basement door.
Lenny putters over lunch in the kitchen, and I take the time to examine the photos covering almost every wall and surface.
I grin at a photo of a bee, knowing this is the one Remi told me about.
It’s phenomenal, an extreme close-up capturing the translucence of its wings and tiny pollen-covered legs, suspended in flight.
A series of black-and-white photographs depicting the faces of homeless veterans catches my eye. Each one is unique and devastatingly heartbreaking.
I’m still staring when Lenny slides up beside me. “These are amazing,” I tell him without looking away.
I accept the beer he offers me. “They are. She always was my best student,” he responds with pride. “She has an incredible eye.”
My head jerks in his direction. “Remi took all these?”
He nods, holding my gaze. His eyes burn into me. The man looks harmless enough, but beneath his calm exterior, there’s something intimidating about him I can’t quite put my finger on.
“RJ’s like a daughter to me, so it’s my duty to ask what your intentions are.”
I’m surprised how easily the answer comes to me. Even though it’s much too fast, I want forever. I want everything with her. “I want to spend the rest of my life with her if she’ll have me.”
“Good answer, son.” Lenny grins, smacking me on the back. “But keep that tidbit to yourself for now. It wouldn’t do if you scared her off before she figures out she wants that too. She’s a stubborn one, my RJ. Likely to run across the world if she feels trapped.”
When Remi finally reappears, she’s still anxious, but a bit calmer than when she went downstairs.
After lunch, the three of us trek down to the basement.
Using the negatives she developed, Remi exposes the first image onto special photo paper kept in a light-proof box, then places it into a tray of chemicals.
She tilts and lowers the tray, creating a gentle wave.
Lenny and I flank her, the three of us standing shoulder-to-shoulder, watching the image slowly emerge.
When she’s satisfied, she moves it to another tray with plastic tongs. Moments later, she uses the tongs to lift it out and lets the excess liquid drain. Then she hangs it on a line with clips to drip-dry.
The three of us crowd together and stare at it. It’s a revolting moment frozen in time. The photograph shows a line of men on their knees, faces locked in horror, capturing the exact moment of one man’s death.
The well-dressed executioner is sporting a small smile. You can see the flash of the gun’s muzzle, gun smoke hanging in the air, and the man’s brains exploding out the back of his head. The image is sickening, yet extraordinary.
“What the fuck?” I already know the answer, but ask anyway, “This is him? The man in the suit?”
Still staring at her photos, she gives a jerky nod in response.
She develops several more pictures. The next few show the line of men being shot one by one. Another where all of them are lying dead on the ground, the man in the suit standing over them. Another where men are tossing the bodies into a mass grave.
The last photo is a close-up of the man in the suit. He appears to be looking directly into Remi’s camera as if he posed for it. In sharp focus, every detail of the man’s face is exposed.
“Mind if I get a better look at that?” Lenny asks. I step aside to give him room. “I’ll be a son of a bitch. That’s Andrew Thornton.”
“You know him? Who is he?” Remi asks, her tone both shocked and alarmed.
Lenny’s expression is grim. “He’s a United States senator and the head of the select committee on ethics.”
“Well, that’s ironic,” I mutter.
“A senator? A freaking senator? That can’t be possible!” Remi says.
Lenny places his hand on her arm. “Even if the Consortium wasn’t involved, accusing a United States senator of mass murder will have serious consequences.”
“Lenny’s right. Let me talk to the team and find a way to help you without putting you in the crosshairs. We have connections. Lots of them. Let us help.”
“Danny died because of these pictures.” Her voice is angry, not afraid.
“I was tortured. They’re selling people to the highest bidder.
I don’t care if the president is involved, I’m not going to let them cover this up!
” She throws the door open. “I can’t let them get away with it!
” she calls over her shoulder as she storms up the stairs.
I share a concerned look with Lenny. I can’t help admiring her courage and tenacity. She’s trying to take her life back and get justice for the murdered men, her friend, and herself. But pursuing this will only put her in more danger.