Epilogue
T wo years later…
Lachlan
I tapped away at the computer, pulling up old searches as I hummed the lovely tune in my mind. Then I added the nifty trick Nolan had shown me, inserting a few searches into his history to set up the nice little trail.
I placed the glass of liquor appropriately, along with photos of Chase he’d had a private detective hired to take. I mean, it was all too much on his part. Chase had practically posed for them. No one got on the farm without us knowing nowadays.
I left Mr. Jacobs’s office and joined him, Ethan, and Nolan on his balcony. “This is ridiculous. I will be pressing charges. Where is Chase?” he demanded.
“Shhh, Mr. Jacobs. I can call you that, right? I mean, Vincent seems too personal. I don’t consider you decent enough to get personal.”
“Stop playing with your food, Lach,” Nolan said.
“Right, still working the kinks out on this side of business.”
Ethan and Nolan were holding Chase’s dad by the arm. “Chase is out, on a date with a pretty little number. But that is none of your concern. You signed an NDA with us, and you’ve broken that contract.” I sighed and reached into my bag, pulling out a familiar yellow rope.
“I did not!” he protested.
“Shh, the neighbors will hear.” I paused, looked around, and then smiled as his face fell because he knew the truth… There were no neighbors. I slipped the noose around his neck.
“What is this?” he yelled, his face growing paler by the second.
“Ethan.” I handed him the other end of the rope, and he got to work tying it off. He tried to fight Nolan off, but Nolan hit him with that bloody neck pressure point I hated, bringing him down to his knees.
“This would be the rope Chase—is it okay if I call him Chase? Technically, John adopted him, so he’s no longer your son. Anyway, he had this hanging in his closet, every day for nearly a year. Contemplating if he was able to go through with it. It was a reminder of your hatred for him. You see, I go to meetings with Chase, I hear things, I have an understanding for how things played out. This rope wasn’t the tool he chose to end himself. No, it was the reminder of your words and how much they choked him out every single day you attempted to drive him to kill himself.” Vincent had gone ghost white. “You’re done.”
“Of course, you knew that, didn’t you?” Nolan asked. He wasn’t normally one to talk during these things—he held everything too close to his heart—but this was about protecting our brother. “You knew you were done the moment you got slapped with a lawsuit for faking Chase’s death. Not to mention, the fraud charges and corporate espionage. You’re not going to see the light of day once they come to collect you.”
“Then, let me go,” he begged. “I can’t harm you any longer.” His forehead beaded with sweat.
“Oh, we were going to”—I shook my head—“until you sent a hand for hire to our home, to harm our family.” I reached into the black duffel and pulled out a small box. I held it open for him to look into.
“You are sick!” he cried.
I slammed the box closed, the hand inside rattling just slightly. “Sick? Is it sick to actually care for one another? To hold family to heart? To have trust? No, we aren’t the sick ones. You turned on your own flesh and blood.”
Ethan grabbed him by the shirt, and together, he and Nolan hoisted him up onto the rail of the balcony.
“Stop! Stop! I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m so sorry. I did wrong by my son, and I regret it so much.”
Ethan shook his head. “He’s not your son.”
His eyes focused on Ethan, and then the anger started. “You! You turned him against me. I knew you would do it. You goddamn trash—”
And then Ethan let him go. Vincent fell backward, his hands reaching out and grabbing the air in front of me, trying to grasp a hand I didn’t hold out, just like those hands he never held out for his own child.
The pop and slam as he got to the end of the rope, body swinging, was music to my ears. Nolan spun around, not looking, but Ethan and I peered over the rail. “Is he…?” Nolan asked.
“Oh yeah, likely tore his spinal cord,” I said. I glanced over, meeting Ethan’s eyes. “It’s the twitch for me. The burst of electricity before lights out.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “You are a sick fuck.” He lightly punched my arm.
“Let’s get out of here,” Nolan said, already walking into the office.
“I have the cameras off already,” I said. “Double check my work and see if there are any holes.” Nolan glanced at the staged desk and laptop, nodding his approval. I looked at my watch. “Chase gets her for another six hours yet.” I sighed. That didn’t take nearly as long as it should have. As time passed, we’d become more efficient in protecting our own.
“Let’s get a drink,” Nolan suggested.
“I’ll drive,” Ethan said.
Once we were in the truck, Nolan turned around. “How many more? At least we didn’t have to bury this body, but how many more will we have to burn before we can just live without pain and fear?”
I took a deep breath, looking out the windshield at my best friend's childhood house. The one he owned, yet refused to go to. The pool we pulled his lifeless body out of. The grass we laid him out on while we pumped for his silent heart and forced life into his lungs. “All of them. No one will ever harm another McCormick. For family.”
Nolan and Ethan nodded, and in unison, they repeated, “For family.”