Chapter 31 #2
“When Karl calmed down, I offered him a drink. One drink became two and two turned to four. We lit a joint for old time’s sake.
He still never apologized for stealing Marcy, for the way he ruined my life all those years ago.
When he wasn’t looking, I slipped a little something in his drink.
Did you know some of these street drugs mixed with alcohol can be a lethal combo?
It took less than thirty minutes before his teeth started to chatter.
His vision became blurry and his speech started to slur.
He climbed the roof parapets all by himself and started mumbling nonsense.
He made my job easy for once. All I had to do was give him a strong shove.
He grabbed my shirt and tried to hold on to me but his grip was slipping.
The terror in his eyes was wonderful to watch.
I watched the idiot fall. His neck broke in a perfect angle.
But as he was grappling to hold on to me, his cheap fucking watch was caught on the fabric of my shirt, the clasp broke and it fell on the roof floor.
I was in a hurry to clean the place and get the hell out of there fast before anyone arrived, so I panicked and took the watch with me.
I went home because I needed an alibi,” Bolton confesses.
I am shaking in rage. If he didn’t have Wendy in his grip, he would be tasting his own blood by now.
Bolton continues to gloat. “When Wendy was informed of Karl’s death, she wanted to run to Marcy.
I followed her along like a good husband.
You were busy with the police. Marcy and Owen were shocked and useless.
I slipped the watch on top of the dresser, thinking if the police questioned about the watch, it wouldn’t come back to me.
It would seem like Karl hadn’t worn his watch that day because the clasp was broken.
But the watch would have fallen behind the dresser.
My plan was perfect, until Marcy found the watch again, almost two years later.
She spoke to Owen about the watch. How it made no sense for it to reappear again after so many days.
Owen was also convinced that Karl wore the watch that morning as he left for work.
I panicked when I realized they could reopen your father’s case if they found new evidence.
“I couldn’t let the watch resurface. I knew you were still questioning the circumstances of Karl’s death.
I went to see Marcy that night before you returned from work.
She was crying again and I gave her the pills she loved.
I took the watch from her, and this time I hid it in my office.
But Marcy told you everything and you broke into my office.
I was careful to wipe all my fingerprints off the evidence before I placed them in my office safe.
So even though you showed Scooter the watch and the photographs, nothing really came back to me.
” Bolton sighs loudly. “Then I accused you of planting evidence against me because an angry son needed someone to blame for his father’s death.
Why would a respectable member of society go through such lengths to steal a cheap watch?
Scooter believed me and so did everyone else.
“There, now you know everything. I really enjoyed retelling the whole fucking saga of how Karl died. That helpless and haunted look on your face was all worth it. You’ll die knowing you couldn’t do a thing to help your old man when he was gasping for his last breath, when his skull cracked, and his brain started to bleed out. ”
Molten anger ripples through my body, blinding rage thrums in my veins. “Sonofabitch.” I advance toward him without bothering with the consequences, without caring that he could shoot me dead. I got my answers. My instincts were right from the very beginning.
He picks Wendy’s small frame up as he pulls her in front. “Stay back or she dies. I swear I’ll shoot you both.”
“Let Wendy go and fight me, you coward,” I roar like a restrained furious animal. I want to strangle him while he begs for his life. But Wendy is in my way and she is also Bolton’s victim.
“You know this was all your fault. You’re the reason your family suffered. You are the reason your father died, your mother spent her days in rehab, and your brother walks with pain in his knees. Hand over the files and let’s put an end to this.”
“Don’t let him goad you, Ryan,” Wendy speaks. Bolton’s hold on her throat tightens but she still continues, “We got him. We really got him this time.” Wendy smiles as tears stream down her eyes, her body struggles in his hold.
I frown trying to understand what she means. She is going to faint soon if Bolton doesn’t let go of her throat.
“Remember what you asked me to do? You asked me to help a boy who lost his father. I was afraid for years. But I couldn’t be timid anymore.
See, I finally became brave.” Her gaze points at Bolton’s large teakwood desk.
She tilts her chin to the limited-edition glass bottle and lets out a small laugh of victory.
I see it.
I see the golden Viking boat trapped in a shiny glass bottle sitting on his desk.
And because I know where to look, I spot a tiny red blinker flashing from the hull of the boat.
Aariv said the audio-enabled camera is triggered through motion detection.
And whatever is recorded is stored safely on a remote server.
A high court judge once gifted Bolton a Viking boat in a glass bottle, a limited-edition model from Norway. They had won an ocean sailing race together. That gift was his most prized possession. He flaunted it to everybody, at every chance.
Years ago on his hospital bed, Owen gave me an idea.
I had to take a chance and get Wendy to help me find the truth.
But Wendy was nervous and when she did try to snoop around, Bolton had gotten suspicious of her.
Wendy didn’t want to help anymore. She was terrified of what Bolton would do if he found out.
I abandoned my search for evidence when I found out that Owen and I were being followed. I began to fear for Owen’s life.
I needed a spy inside Bolton’s office to see what he was doing in that room.
We waited years for the perfect opportunity.
Meanwhile, Owen strengthened his relationship with Billy Bolton.
Bolton still believed that Owen looked up to him and valued his advice.
One afternoon, Owen went over to Bolton’s house on the pretext of needing a letter of recommendation from Bolton for his new job interview and there he had secretly clicked some photographs of his room.
Once the photos were in my hands, I noticed the Viking boat on his table and got thinking.
Aariv managed to make me a replica of that same boat but with a hidden camera and a high-powered recording device in it. The recordings would be automatically uploaded to a cloud server.
Wendy was my only hope. Although she was terrified, she hated the bastard enough to want him in prison.
I gave her the boat in the glass bottle to take home with her.
I told her to exchange it with the original one when the time was right.
I had checked the server every day and there was no activity found.
She must have switched the boats only in the last twenty-four hours.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Bolton asks, trying to see where my eyes are fixed. “Fucking cunt. What did you do?” His knee jams to her hip and she cries out in pain.
“That boat you love so much is recording every word you say. You’re doomed, you vile pig. This is my revenge,” Wendy yells at Bolton.
Bolton stands frozen for a minute, his gaze fixed on the boat, trying to figure out where the camera is.
I watch the cold darkness slither over Bolton’s features.
I know he has made up his mind. He is going to kill Wendy and me next.
He turns his gun toward the boat and shoots the bottle, shattering the glass.
Shards and splinters of wood from the boat fly in all directions.
I fall on the ground for cover and roll on the floor so the table shields me.
At the same time, Wendy struggles in Bolton’s grip but she is not going down without a fight.
Wendy reaches for Bolton’s face and scratches him with her nails.
Bolton lets out a curse, pushing her hands away.
In that same minute, when he is momentarily distracted, I square my shoulders and ram my body into him.
Bolton topples on the floor with the loaded gun in his hands.
Before he can aim a shot, my hand tackles his, pinning him to the floor while my other hand balls into a fist and I punch him in the face hard.
His grip loosens and the gun falls from his hand.
Wendy quickly kicks the gun sending it flying to the other side of the room.
Bolton’s blood coats my fist and the white rage in my vision turns blurry. The pain and confusion that my father must have experienced in the last minutes of his life comes to haunt me. He was innocent. He was a good man. He was a wonderful father. He’ll finally get the justice he deserves.
The sirens and activated lights from the police cars fill the air.
Men in uniform barge through the doors of Bolton’s office and surround us, pointing guns at Bolton and shouting instructions.
Panic flashes in Bolton’s eyes as he understands he has nowhere to run.
He complies as the officers physically seize him.
Wendy walks up to Bolton and produces a cell phone from her inner shirt pocket. I watch Bolton’s blood drain from his face.
Wendy spits on his face. “Even if there’s any chance you destroyed the video surveillance footage from the hidden camera in the Viking ship bottle—a surveillance that was installed for my protection because I feared for my life—I got backup.
That’s right, you sonafabitch, I was recording your every word tonight.
And New Jersey being a one-party consent state, be prepared to rot in prison for the rest of your life. ”
I want to tell Wendy that the video is saved on the cloud server in real time. But I am just in awe that she stood up to her bully and found her courage once again.
“Bitch, I should have killed you long ago,” Bolton barks to Wendy.
“My legal team will leave you bankrupt, Ryan Harper. I’ll ruin you.
Be prepared to spend the rest of your life in court,” Bolton says as the officers shackle his hands and drag him out.
“He broke into my house and assaulted me,” he claims to the officers.
“Even if I can’t use that recording in court, I still have that USB. It’ll be enough to reopen my father’s case,” I tell him as he sneers at me.
My wrists are also cuffed and I am led down the stairs.
I walk through the open lawn and to the police cars with four other officers by my side.
As I am about to get into the car, my heart tugs.
As stupid as this sounds, after all the crazy that just happened, after coming face-to-face with death in one fleeting moment, after finally solving the mystery of Father’s death; I am still searching for something.
A brown-eyed girl who steals my breath away.
My heart knows when she is around. I turn my head to search the scene that is surrounded with police cars, flashing lights, and curious neighbors.
My head is pushed down as I enter the police car, but right before the door is shut, I see her.
She stands terrified, clutching on to her father and with Brent by her side. Her eyes are glued to my face. Her lips move and I read them clearly.
“Sorry.”
That’s the only word she utters as I am driven away.