The Bedlam Boys: Complete Series

Chapter Seven

Cairo

I slammed into my father’s house, leaving the rest of them to haul an unconscious piece of uniformed trash.

“De Souza? Dad?”

Thud.

My head snapped up. Taking off, I bounded up the steps two at a time. My father’s door banged into the opposite wall with a splintering crack that assured I broke something.

Ivy leaned over my father, holding a pair of scissors to his throat.

“Get the fuck off him!” I raced across the room and heaved her up, smothering her soft cry in my chest. Quickly I pulled her back and away from him.

“Son?” The thin rasp came from the broken wreck on the bed who I assumed was my father.

He looked terrible. His face was a mottle of bruises in various stages of healing. His left arm was in a sling while the right wrist was encased in a bandage, and that was just the parts of him that were visible. Dad was covered in blankets, but they weren’t covering the hefty, sturdy lump they should be. My father was starved. Beaten. Broken.

“Let... her go...”

“Let her go? She was trying to slit your fucking throat.”

“I had plenty of time to do that before you got here,” said a dry voice. Ivy tried to untangle from me. “I’m the one doing the fixing.”

“She’s... telling the truth,” he rasped. “She’s helping me, Cairo. Let her go.”

What he said made no sense, but then, neither did another, closer look at him. My father was bandaged and in bed with a glass of water and painkillers next to him. Dante sure as hell didn’t do all of that, so—

Ivy’s caring for the man she wants dead as badly as anyone in the Black Letter Crew.

As if to drive that thought home, Ivy got free of me and rescued the scissors from where she dropped it. She bent over my father and I bent over her, watching her closely.

Dad had a nasty, shallow cut on his neck. Looked like Ivy sewed it closed and was now snipping off the extra thread. She was gentle applying clean gauze and wound tape.

“Where did you learn to do this?” I asked as footsteps sounded on the landing.

“Once again, I must credit my farm education. When the animals get hurt, you can either keep shelling out for an expensive vet bill, or pay attention when they fix them up the first time.”

“Well, I have been... called an old goat,” Dad croaked.

They both laughed. Though my father’s was more a rattling wheeze. I narrowed on the both of them.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

Ivy shot me a knowing smile. “Relax, Cairo. You can stop looking at me like I’m going to go crazed killer at any second. Your father and I were waiting for you guys for quite a while. We had a long talk,” she said. “I understand what happened all those years ago much better now.”

“Care to share?” Arsenio spoke up. “We could use a little understanding right now.”

“Okay, but is it a good idea for us all to be here? I drove by the police station, and I could tell something had gone wrong. I’m guessing you didn’t get bail.”

Arsenio just shook his head.

“Then, won’t your houses be the first places they’ll look for you? We should get out of here and go somewhere safe.”

“Yes, we should,” I ground out. “So talk fast.”

She gestured with her chin. “It’s better if you hear it from him.” Ivy made to leave. “I’ve got Quinn in the other room. I should check to make sure she hasn’t succumbed to her injuries—”

I grasped her wrist and tugged her back where she was. “Stay.”

Arsenio, Jacques, Legend, and Roan piled in. I didn’t know what they did with Davidson, but I was sure they had him locked up and secure somewhere uncomfortable. Dad had our full attention.

“I’m not sure where to begin.” Dad tried to sit up and quickly changed his mind. Sighing, he just eased back onto the pillows, gazing at the ceiling through black, swollen eyes. After a time, he began in slow, halting speech. “All I’ve ever tried to do is be a good man and father. It’s been a source of unending pain and shame for me that I’m neither.”

I didn’t correct him. Why do that when someone speaks the truth?

“Why do you think I d-drink?” Dad burst into a coughing fit.

Ivy helped him sip some water. The act so disturbed me, I pulled her away from him—taking her place by his side. These two would stop confusing the fuck out of me until I heard this story.

“I started out wanting to do what was best for the town, but along the way, I ended up doing what I was told was best for the town. For a long time, that was okay. It was enough... until I was asked to do something I couldn’t justify in my deepest drunken stupor.”

I frowned. “What were you asked to do?”

Dad lowered his gaze. It wasn’t my eyes he met. It was Ivy’s.

“You boys think you know all the secrets of this town, but you don’t. There’s one left. The biggest one. The oldest one,” he rasped. “That makes all the rest insignificant.”

“Stop talking in riddles, Dad. What are you trying to say? What secret?”

“What I’m trying to say is... Bedlam is not a town. It never was,” he said. “It’s an estate.”

“An estate? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He still wasn’t looking at me. “Everything from the university to the Roadhouse sits on private land, Cairo. Long ago before Bedlam. Before Crystal Canyon. A wealthy family bought this plot of land and built the weapons factory on top of it.

“Workers used to ride in from the surrounding towns, but this became inconvenient, and the family became even more wealthy from weapons sales. They could afford to build bunkhouses. Then an eatery for the workers. Then a bar.

“The next thing they knew, they had an entire live-in operation. Got to the point that workers were living in the bunkhouses through the workweek, then visiting home on their day off. They wanted to come home to their families every night, so—”

“Down came the bunkhouses and up went the cabins and two bedrooms,” I finished. “Nice racket. The owner pays their wages, and then gets it all back as their landlord.”

Dad made to nod and winced. He settled for resting his head back on the pillow. “Likely why he gave in to their requests. It was just more ways to make money, and keep his employees working efficiently. And what was losing a few plots of land?” Dad swept out a shaky arm. “He had plenty.”

“All right,” Roan said. “Bedlam wasn’t a town. It was a wealthy man’s plot of land. What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything, Roan,” Ivy said softly. “It’s how this all began.”

“Explain,” said Jacques.

“The owner suddenly found himself a de facto mayor. From dealing with his employees’ demands to the demands of their families. They needed more land for farming. They needed shops. They needed schools. They needed wells. On and on,” Ivy said. “The owner accommodated. He built schools. He built shops. And he dug wells.”

My spine stiffened. I knew where this was going.

“While the well workers were digging, they found diamonds,” my dad continued. “They didn’t know what they had. No education. Most of them didn’t know how to read. They just found these shiny rocks that kept getting in the way of the digging, and brought them to the boss. Asked him what he wanted to do with them.”

“And,” Legend pressed when he stopped. “What did he do?”

“He shut down his factory and fired half his workforce. Those that remained had a new job.”

“Mining for diamonds,” I finished.

“Yes.”

Ivy picked up the thread. “The owner didn’t want anyone to know. Everywhere they dug, they just kept finding more, and more, and more. He was the wealthiest man in the entire United fucking States, and he wasn’t sharing. Why should he? It was all his free, clear, and legal. He owned the land. He could do what he wanted with it.

“But his miners,” she said. “They may have been illiterate, but they weren’t stupid. They figured out pretty quickly they wouldn’t be doing this backbreaking work if they were just digging up some shiny rocks. One night, a couple of the men snuck out of the bunkhouses, rode to the next town, and asked around. What is this thing? How much is it worth?

“The minute they got their answer, the tide turned for the owner.”

“They killed him,” I stated. “Made off with as much as they could get.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure a few did run off, but remember, illiterate. Not stupid. A group banded together and came up with another idea. They informed the owner the secret was out, and things would be done a little differently from then on.

“If he didn’t want the whole world finding out what he was sitting on, he had to promote them and give them a cut of the haul. If word ever got out, every fortune-seeker in the country would descend on this part of the world like locusts. It’d be the gold rush all over again, except he and his sweet little family would become targets. Couldn’t claim the land and everything from it was his... if he was dead.”

“What deal did they propose?” Jacques asked.

“They’d help him. They would oversee the workers—keep them mining and keep them quiet. Anyone who stepped out of line or even had the thought of slipping a little extra into his pocket, would be caught and subjected to their swift and quiet justice. It wasn’t like they could bring the thieves before a real judge and have them admit what they stole.”

Roan’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Are you saying...?”

Ivy nodded. A connection was just made that I was clearly missing.

“What? What is it?” I demanded.

“That group of men,” Roan said, eyes unfocusing. “That said they’d oversee the workers. Watch them. Punish them. Run the unofficial, private town under their own brand of justice.

“They were the Men of Honor.”

“Yes,” Dad whispered. “Yes.”

“No wonder they gave themselves that name.” The mattress dipped under Ivy’s weight. “They probably did see themselves as honorable, because they didn’t do what they could’ve done, and run off in the night with a cart of this man’s diamonds. They stayed to work with him. Help him protect his land and secret.

“For a time, Crystal Canyon prospered. The weapons factory reopened. Families returned to live in the area. They went to school. They worked in their shops where they were paid well and lived well. If the trade-off was steering clear of the Men of Honor, and not asking questions about what went on in the mines—fine with them. At first. Of course we all know how the story ultimately ended.”

“The power and wealth went straight to their empty heads,” I said. “They started terrorizing the people, believing they could do whatever they wanted to the serfs within their kingdom.”

Dad glanced at the water. Ivy reached for it, but I was there first, helping him drink. She wasn’t going near the guy again until this story was finished.

“We know the story, so I won’t repeat it,” Dad went on. “The townspeople rose up. They slaughtered the Men, their families, and the owner, Amadeo de Souza.”

Our heads swung to Ivy—the calm and silent figure at the end of the bed. She gave us what would’ve passed for a smile, if it reached her eyes. “Surprise, boys. I’m the direct descendant of the owner of Bedlam.”

“And that,” Dad said, “is how we got here.”

“I don’t understand.” I backed away, eyeing her through slitted lids. “Her great-great-great-grandpa owned the land. What’s that matter? Bedlam is a town now. Our mothers run it.”

“But it isn’t,” she said, “and they don’t.”

Arsenio came in, moving in front of her. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Bedlam is unincorporated.” Dad tried again to sit up. “It never became a real town because the threat of ripping up the land, and throwing off the people that had come to live on its back, was a threat that always hung over the Society of Sisters’ heads.”

“Amadeo was no fool,” Ivy continued. “The Men were out of control, and it was only a matter of time before they turned on him. Even though he supported them and looked the other way—the greedy, evil bastard that he was—he figured the night was coming that his wife and daughters would be chosen for the Hunt. He and his sons would be killed so the Men could have everything. Amadeo sent his family away somewhere safe long before the revolt ever happened.”

“Wait,” Jacques said, holding up a hand. “Ivy, you told us all your family owned back then was the farm. The farm that was taken over by your many-great-grandmother who joined the fight to kill her uncle, Jonathan de Souza. You said he beat his wife and children to death, and the other Men didn’t do a thing to stop him.”

The line of her shoulders tensed. “I did say that, because that’s what I was told by Scott Cavendish. Fiction,” she spat. “All of it lies to prevent me from knowing my true history. I wasn’t a direct descendant. I came from a niece that turned on him and stole some farmland. And of course he didn’t tell me his real name. He wouldn’t have wanted me to look up Amadeo de Souza for myself.

“Cavendish couldn’t have me know that his wife and children didn’t die before their time. They lived safe and sound with the deed to their land, and a deal with the Sisters. Everyone can go about their lives if the Sisters filled up the mines, and forgot the diamonds ever existed. Amadeo’s wife, her children, their children, and so on would let them keep Bedlam. It was a family secret, and a promise.”

Roan pulled a face. “Why would they do that? Just give up their land and money?”

“They had land and money,” Ivy explained. “Amadeo didn’t send them away with nothing. Crates and crates of uncut diamonds. They were filthy rich and would be for generations to come. And if that changed, the land and the wealth beneath it were always right there. They had the deed.”

“But why did the Sisters agree to leave the fortune alone?”

“Because they had something that was more valuable than diamonds,” my father said. “Almost every land-owning man was dead. Law enforcement—dead. Corrupt magistrate—dead. Abusive husbands that ruled with an iron fist—dead. Racists and segregators that made the impossible lives of Black families even harder—dead.

“In thirty days and nights, they wiped out their oppressors. They were free.”

“And if the de Souzas reclaimed the land and forced them off, all of that was waiting for them in another town,” Arsenio said slowly. “Bedlam was one of the first towns with equality. Yeah... that was definitely worth more than diamonds.”

“Not one of them,” Ivy amended. “It was the first. Here, every child was educated. Wages were equal and fair. Women ran their homes and businesses. Segregation was dismissed as the idiotic nonsense it was. The revolt happened because Mayam Westchester fought back when no one else did.

“It was Mayam who formed the Society of Sisters. She became their first leader,” she said. “But her power was here. Her freedom only existed on this soil. So yes, Roan, she and the Sisters took whatever deal the de Souzas offered, and they were thankful it was so generous.”

“All these years later,” Legend said, “they’re still holding up their end of the deal.”

“Not quite.”

We looked to my father, whose expression shifted into something harder—darker.

“What do you mean not quite?”

He gestured at Ivy. “The young woman before you is not covered in jewelry and designer labels. She did not grow up in a mansion by the sea. The de Souza family fortunes changed, son. Drastically.”

My gaze locked with Ivy. “How?”

“The way it always happens,” Ivy said, smiling mirthlessly. “One lousy businessman and degenerate gambler, and suddenly your bank account is empty, your furniture is repossessed, and you’re thrown out onto the street with nothing because the same lousy businessman was your husband, and he was beaten to death by men he couldn’t pay back.

“My great-grandmother, Sabrina, didn’t know what to do. Her husband told her his family had a deed to land in this area, but that was all. He didn’t tell her how much it was worth, or that it could make their fortune again ten times over.” She threw up her hands. “Why would he? Christopher de Souza didn’t think much of his trophy wife. She made his meals and raised his children. Why would he discuss finances with her—let alone tell her he was flushing their lives down the toilet?

“I can only guess that having the deed to fall back on fueled his recklessness. Too bad he was killed before Bedlam could save them.”

The guys were all the way in the room now—pulling up the desk chair, claiming my armchair, sitting on the bed.

“So, Sabrina de Souza had the deed but no clue of its value,” Legend clarified. “The family secret died with her husband.”

“But not the Sisters,” Ivy said. “Sabrina had three children and no home or money. She was desperate, so she packed up her kids and came out here where her husband told her they had land.”

“She took her deed to a judge,” said Dad, bringing our attention to him. “My grandmother, Cairo. Your great-grandmother. A Sister.”

I stiffened. Ivy noticed immediately.

“I know, right,” she said. “And to think, you were worried about what I would do to your family when it turns out the Sharpes have a family tradition of screwing over de Souzas. I should’ve stayed away from you.”

Her tone was teasing, but I had a heavy feeling there was no trace of a lie. “What did Granny Sharpe do?”

My father answered. “She told Sabrina, ‘oh, yes, there is a plot of land in your name. It’s been sitting barren for a while, but it’s yours to claim at any time.’ Sabrina was so happy with those overgrown acres and the rickety barn and farmhouse on top, she didn’t do a thing other than hug, kiss, and thank her. She moved her family into what became de Souza Farm.”

“She had no idea she owned everything around her,” Roan breathed. “Neither did your grandmother, your father... or you.”

“No.” Emotion leaked into Ivy’s voice. “None of us knew. The Sisters wanted it that way. Caution for her family’s last hope drove Sabrina de Souza to protect that old deed. She brought a copy to her meeting with the judge, where she was told even though it said eight thousand acres, Bedlam was now an official town. She couldn’t own it, but that twelve-acre farm was all hers.

“Matter of fact, why didn’t Sabrina bring her that crusty old piece of paper? She’d destroy it, and write up a new one that listed their actual property.” Her gaze drifted over his shoulder. “I don’t know where we’d be today if Sabrina had fallen for that trick, but she didn’t. Sabrina kept it locked in a safe-deposit box, and didn’t tell anyone about it or where it was.”

“Why did your grandmother try to trick her out of the deed?” Roan asked Dad. “She didn’t even know what she had.”

“That’s exactly why. Things have changed in the last hundred years,” Jack said. “The Sisters have the vote. They have land, businesses, money, choices. Everything they’d lose back then if they didn’t accept Amadeo’s wife’s deal. Now they have a town they control absolutely. They have the power, and they can have the money. Why should they be held back by a clueless farmer?

“Ever since Sabrina de Souza returned to town, the Society of Sisters has had a new goal. Destroy that deed.”

Legend half rose from the armchair. “But... not our mothers, right? They’re not after—”

“Yes, your mothers,” Dad snapped. “Are you kidding? People whisper around town that it’s a mother’s blindness that explains why Josephine, Marjorie, and Eileen don’t rein you boys in or see how you behave. But it’s your blindness that didn’t let you look past what your mothers have told you.

“Boys, by the time my grandmother’s generation took over the Sisters, they reneged on the deal. There were millions beneath their shoes and no de Souzas around to stop them. They’ve been secretly mining the land for decades.

“Started by your great-grandmother,” Dad said to Roan, blowing his brows up his forehead. “Continued by your grandmothers and now your mothers. They are the wealthiest women in this region, boys. By so much more than you could imagine.”

I opened my mouth, but not a damn word came out. For the first time since we came screaming out of the womb, we were speechless.

“Naturally, they were careful. They had the same issue as Amadeo, but no right of ownership to back them up. If people found out why Crystal Canyon got its name, it’d be overrun by fortune hunters. And if the de Souzas found out, that’d be even worse.

“They amassed their wealth, but were cautious in explaining it. Josephine Banks lives in a mansion provided by the university. She didn’t buy it. The mayor’s son rides around in a 1957 Corvette worth one hundred and thirty thousand dollars, because her husband bought it for a steal in some romantic tale.”

Arsenio crushed the sheets in his fist. He was told the same romantic tale.

“Eileen was under more scrutiny as a judge, but I’m sure you enjoyed all those vacations in your childhood, Jacques. Especially your summers in France.”

Jacques could’ve been chipped from stone. And Ivy... Ivy didn’t look at either of us, and I couldn’t blame her. Our mothers made themselves rich while she scrubbed chicken shit from her boots and watched her grandmother toil from sunup to sundown. Framing us for murder wasn’t a betrayal. It was years’ worth of karma falling on our heads.

“But your mother wasn’t happy with our cover story.” I knew Dad was talking to me, though I didn’t look away from Ivy. “I was the descendant of the Sister. The money was mine, and when I was trying to win her heart, I used it to take her all over the world.

“But then we had kids,” Dad said, voice heavy. “And we had to settle down while I fulfilled my duty to the hand that fed me—serving as sheriff and making every threat to the Sisters go away. Nora wasn’t pleased. Not with this house. Not with this life of wearing jeans and bargain threads while she pretended to live on a sheriff’s wife’s salary.”

My voice was dead. “That’s why she dropped us like hot shit and ran to Isaac.”

“There were many reasons why she left, son.” Dad lifted his hand as if searching for mine. I didn’t reach back. It dropped by his side. “Yes, that was part of it. With a wealthy husband, she didn’t have to hide her money anymore. I hate to say this, because I know she loves Paris, but getting pregnant by Isaac was by design. Once he finally left his first wife, playing pretend with me was over.

“She ran off with the sweet little girl I thought was my daughter, and my secret. Nora used her knowledge of the Society to get all my money in the divorce, then she blackmailed Marjorie, Eileen, Josephine, and Cynthia St. James for a place among the Sisters. If she wasn’t getting a cut of the money and their power, the whole world would find out the truth.”

I chuckled. “No wonder you were always sending me to shrinks, testing me for psychopathy. I come by my dead soul honest.”

“No, Cairo. There’s nothing wrong with you, son. You’re just... garden variety screwed up by your parents like the rest.”

That was the same thing I said to Dad all those months ago in an interrogation room.

“So our moms have us risking everything to protect Bedlam from being exploited, because they want to be the only ones exploiting it,” Legend said, voice deadened. “And because of that, several generations of our families have been trying to get their hands on that deed. But what are we saying? That old scrap of paper is still valid?”

“Of course it is.” Jacques stood and started pacing. “Deeds don’t expire. A de Souza never sold the land. They never signed it away. The owner of Bedlam is Amadeo de Souza’s last descendant.”

The truth hit me hard and fast in the face. “That’s why Steven Ellis had you sign that contract.”

“Yes,” she replied, shaking her head. “It really does all make sense now. The contract said all the land I owned would go to Steven Ellis if it wasn’t inherited by a blood relative. The land wasn’t the farm. It was Bedlam.”

“So he knows about the deed,” Legend said.

Ivy made a harsh noise. “He knows about the deed. The Sisters know about the deed. The Black Letter Crew knows about the deed. Everyone fucking knew but me.”

“It had to be that way, Ivy.” Dad reached for her hand, and she took it. “Your grandmother did have a will. In it she left you and your sister everything, including the deed and its location. Eileen sent me to retrieve the deed, and destroy it.”

“Destroy it?” Jacques repeated. “Did you?”

Jack dropped his gaze. “No, I didn’t. I knew I had done too much wrong to ever call myself a good man again, but as I stood in that bank holding the last thing an old woman had to give her orphaned granddaughters. A woman who had suffered because of tricks and lies told by my family. I just couldn’t do it.

“Instead, I kept the deed and lied to your mothers, saying I destroyed it.”

My brow scrunched. “Why? You didn’t give the deed to Ivy and Rainey. You kept up the lie that there was no will, so why bother keeping the deed?”

“I didn’t plan to keep the deed, or back the lie,” he explained. “It was the day after I retrieved the contents of the safe-deposit box that I found a black letter on my doorstep.”

“Cavendish,” Ivy hissed. “He did the farm’s taxes for free. How easy is it to imagine that Gran asked the kind young man she thought was her friend, to help her draft her will too. I know now that it was no coincidence that Cavendish was so near my grandmother when all of this happened. He didn’t offer his services for free because Gran was nice to his mother.

“Steven Ellis must’ve dug up Bedlam’s true history while he was looking into his own. He found out a de Souza owned it and still did. He had backup plans on backup plans. First, get Gran to sign over everything legitimately to AgriProspects. That wasn’t working, so... he sent Scott to get close to her, and he killed her.”

“Scott did?” I asked.

She pressed her lips tight. “Who convinced me Andrew Clein had to be responsible after I got that autopsy report back? He’d been in my ear from the beginning—manipulating me. I didn’t even think about the fact that Scott had access to Gran too. Why would I? I didn’t know he had anything to gain.”

“Cavendish killed her.” As I said it, I knew it was true. “Triggering the release of her estate and a chance for him to get his hands on that deed. I bet that was too far for Ellis. If he was willing to resort to murder, we’d all be dead already. He wasn’t interested in getting in bed with a murderer, so he backed off and continued his plan through Foundry—without Cavendish.”

“Wasn’t like Cavendish needed him anymore,” Jacques admitted. “Once Ellis told him about Amadeo, Scott had all the information he needed. He set to work manipulating Ivy and his band of psychopaths. Anything Ellis tried to take, he would get back.”

Ivy scrubbed her face, suddenly looking bone tired. “That was his plan. Jack told me the letter said to hand the deed over. A new will was about to appear that said Rainey and I inherited, but Cavendish was our executor. He’d run my estate until I turned twenty-five, and if Rainey and I died before then, it would all go to him.

“I was never going to make it to twenty-five. When that will appeared, we wouldn’t have lived past Tuesday.”

“But that was another thing that never happened.” I cut to Dad. “Why?”

“Because there were three forces at play. One of them I now know to be Steven Ellis. At the time, all I knew was that I received an anonymous phone call stating Scott Cavendish killed Abigail de Souza. I accepted this right away. Between the letter, the forged will, and the way Scott Cavendish seemed to hover around Ivy, it had to be the truth.”

“You didn’t arrest him,” Roan accused.

“There was no proof. I thought she died of natural causes, so I closed the case pretty quickly. It was Ivy that suspected more. I suspected nothing until I got that letter and phone call. By the time she came to me with the autopsy report, I had already worked out a deal to protect her”—he flicked to me—“and you.”

“Protect me?”

“I arrested Scott Cavendish. Brought him into an interrogation room and said the case would be reopened, and he’d go down for what he did. Cavendish sat in that chair... and laughed,” Dad spat. “The twisted little shit laughed himself sick, saying unless I planned to bury my son, he wasn’t going anywhere other than home.

“I served a new master now, and while the Sisters wouldn’t kill Cairo for my disobedience—any refusal to do what he said, and he would. The next time he came back, holding that fake will, I was ready for him.

“I told Cavendish I entrusted everything to a friend. The deed, the true will, the town’s history, the Sisters, the Men of Honor, Abigail de Souza’s death, and who killed her. If anything happened to me, Cairo, Rainey, or Ivy, he was to send it to the news station. Cavendish walked away, shouting his threats, but I honestly thought it was over. He was beaten.”

“He wasn’t,” Ivy croaked. “Cavendish kept his word. When you refused him, he tried to get me to kill Cairo. I wouldn’t do it, and my sister paid the price.”

“I didn’t know this, Ivy. I swear I didn’t.”

“Dad, you didn’t think it was weird when she suddenly lost her memory and started going by her sister’s name?”

“Of course I did,” he cried. “But it wasn’t as though she came to me saying there’d been another death. She kept saying her sister took off to Chicago and wasn’t coming back. That she was calling her sister by her own name worried me. But I went out to the farm and there was no sign of foul play. One room was empty as if someone packed. Plus, Ivy seemed fine other than whatever delusion gripped her.

“I concluded that Rainey left, and in her grief at being abandoned by the last of her family, Ivy had a mental breakdown and tried to keep her sister around the only way she knew how.”

Very close to what actually happened.

“Rainey was eighteen and, to be frank, safer away from Cavendish and Bedlam. I thought I was doing the right thing by not tracking her down, and turning Ivy over to Doc Nash’s care.”

“You could’ve told her the truth of who she was.” You could’ve told me, went unsaid.

Dad was shaking his head. “Doc Nash said not to. It could do more harm than good to try and force someone out of a delusion. I’d either be wasting my time, or cause their mind to react violently against me reintroducing the trauma it’s trying to protect her from.”

Again, I couldn’t object. Ivy found out the truth and immediately jumped off a bridge. Doc Nash wasn’t spinning bullshit.

“Cavendish backed off after that and I didn’t receive another letter, so I assumed— I hoped,” he corrected, “that it was over.”

“Still don’t understand why Cavendish backed off,” Roan said.

Ivy pushed up, moving to the window. “My guess is after Jack made it clear that fake will would never see the light of day, he gave up any idea of controlling my inheritance through me. That’s why it didn’t matter if I went down for Cairo’s murder. Or why he didn’t care if I knew he ordered Rainey’s death. He was done with the de Souza sisters, and on to something else.”

“Suicide?” Arsenio scoffed. “The afterlife? That was his grand plan?”

“We’ll never know,” I said, steering the full truth of Cavendish’s death away from my father’s ears. “But he gave up on that plan, and now his devoted lunatics have one of their own. We know it starts with the Ellises, not Ivy.”

“And there it is,” Ivy said. “That’s how we got here.”

“I’m sorry we did, Ivy. You’ll never know how sorry.” Tears collected in the corner of Jack’s eyes. “I thought I was protecting you from the Sisters who couldn’t know the deed survived, and that monster Cavendish who knew it did. I hated that your grandmother’s killer lived free all that time but all I had was a lack of evidence and a threat hanging over my head that his friends would carry on in his place if anything happened to him.”

He wasn’t lying. Cavendish did keep his word.

“I got it all w-wrong,” he cried, voice cracking. “I made life so much worse for you.”

“You didn’t, Jack. It wasn’t you. Amazingly, the man I hated most of all was the only one who tried to help me. No, the people who ruined my life are Scott Cavendish, Steven Ellis, the Black Letter Crew, Eileen Stone—”

Jacques snapped his head up.

“—Marjorie Creed, Cynthia St. James, Josephine Banks, and Nora Keller.” A suffocating, pressing silence blanketed us as Ivy turned... and smiled. “It’s them who’ll pay.”

I was too numb to stop her walking past me. Arsenio recovered quicker. Sliding into her path, he blocked the door and grasped her chin. Tipping her up, he placed a slow, thorough kiss on her lips. Ivy responded easily.

“Where exactly are you going?” Arsenio murmured, tracing her lips. Only someone who knew them both would sense the growing air of danger.

She smiled sweet. “To get the deed, of course. Where else would I be going, baby?”

Roan half rose. “You know where it is?”

“Jack told me before you got here. I won’t be long.” Ivy made to go around him. Arsenio sidestepped in her way.

“We’ll go with you.”

“That’s very sweet.” That smile didn’t fade. “But the five of you are currently on the run from the police, who happen to be on their way here right now.”

I shot to the window. Two police cars came straight at the bungalow, their sirens lighting the way.

“Sheriff Jack will be easy to explain, but not the two hostages. You guys have to get them and yourselves out of here. Quick. Text me where you are and we’ll meet up there.

“I love you guys. Stay safe.”

Ivy tried again to leave and was promptly tossed over his shoulder. “Let’s move,” Arsenio barked. “Roan and Legend, grab Quinn. Cairo and Jacques, get Davidson. We’re parked out back.” Arsenio bolted carrying a suspiciously docile Ivy.

“Dad, tell them what Davidson did to you. He’s corrupt and our arrest was an abuse of power. Make them believe it. We don’t have time for this on-the-run shit.”

“I’ll take care of it, son.” Dad never looked weaker or less able to take care of anything. “I’ll make it right.”

There wasn’t time for more. I hauled ass down the stairs where Jacques hefted Davidson. Taking his other side, we dragged him out the back to the waiting car, and Ivy.

She sat in the passenger seat, looking wholly content as Arsenio leaned on her car door and prevented any chance of escape. Locking eyes with me through the windshield, she winked.