AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sydney opened her laptop and said, “We’ve already been looking into everyone connected to the project, but you may be onto something. We’ll dig even deeper into his background.”
“Pierce Quaid’s friends with Craig Paulsen. They could be in on it together.” I stood and folded my arms, my nervous chills unrelenting. “Pierce was also close with Rebecca. Then there’s your Secretary of Energy boyfriend to consider.” I pinned my stare directly on my mother. “You and Jared started dating before Rebecca was killed. Pushed me to work at Barclay in the first place. Now it appears you know Andrew Cutter, too. Seems to me, Mom, you’re at the center of everything.” Right along with Rebecca.
Carter gave me a little nod of approval or thanks, maybe both, as I sat, not eager to remain the center of attention.
“First of all, if you’re implying I was aware of the project in Amsterdam prior to you being taken hostage, no, sweetheart, I wasn’t.” That sweetheart was delivered with the perfect amount of bitterness only my mother could pull off. “Secondly, there’s no way anyone I know is behind what happened. Not even Craig.” She stepped closer to the camera, lowering herself into the seat alongside the President, and I wished I had my glasses to get a better read on her. There was something simmering beneath the surface, and she needed to hurry up and share whatever it was.
“How did you know Andrew Cutter? Connect the dots for us,” Gray said, his tone as icy and firm as Carter’s had been.
“I should’ve been informed Andrew was behind Rebecca’s death a long time ago,” Mom said, her tone hesitant.
“His death involved classified details, and you didn’t have the clearance back then,” Secretary Chandler told her, his voice deep but steady. Like father, like son. “Now, tell us what you know.”
Carter stepped to the side, giving me a clear view of my mother as she shared, “Back in 2018, someone anonymously sent Rebecca information that suggested her parents’ plane crash wasn’t an accident.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t she tell me that?” Carter barked out, his hands tightening into fists at his sides.
Dallas jumped down from the couch and raced to his dad, whacking his tail against Carter’s leg to let him know he was there if he needed him.
“Andrew Cutter was a salvage expert,” Carter grated out before Mom could answer him. “She went to Andrew, not the other way around. She wanted his advice about the plane wreck since it’d crashed in the sea, and Andrew . . .” He removed his hat and tore a hand through his hair. “I believed a dying man’s word. But Andrew didn’t tell me the whole story. Why would he?”
I wanted to rush to him the way Dallas had, but I was anchored in place, buried beneath too much information. We needed a freaking commercial break. Time to recover between what felt like strikes from the god of thunder’s hammer itself. Bit by bit, each new reveal whacked me harder than the last, thrashing Carter with even more force.
“I clearly didn’t know Andrew was responsible for her death, and if he did what you’re implying and blackmailed Rebecca, she never told me about it,” Mom shared, her reading-from-a-teleprompter voice confidently projecting throughout the cabin. “I never met Andrew, nor did I set the two of them up. Rebecca did tell me she shared the anonymous photos and intelligence sent to her about her parents’ crash with Craig Paulsen, though. As you seem to now know, they were close friends. Shortly after that, Rebecca met with Andrew. I don’t understand how that dinner turned into Andrew blackmailing her, or eventually having her killed. And why would Rebecca keep things from that point on a secret from me? She shared everything with me.”
Mom had the nerve to sound offended at that part, driving home the point that Rebecca shared more with her than with her own husband.
“Andrew Cutter was far more than a salvage expert and treasure hunter. He was The Italian.” The President’s words were meaningless to me and carried no weight, but apparently they were yet another big reveal for my mother.
“The Italian?” Mom repeated. “The overlord for the illegal trafficking routes?” So, she was familiar with what I assumed was a moniker but not his true identity as Andrew Cutter?
At the President’s nod, I couldn’t help but ask for a little clarification. “Wasn’t the Barclay jet recovered after it went down in the water? Rebecca wouldn’t have needed Andrew’s help locating it.” Eyes on my mother, I continued, “You’re saying Craig suggested Andrew could examine whatever new evidence Rebecca had received to determine if the crash was really an accident? To help prove her parents were murdered?”
“Yes, exactly, but didn’t The Italian disappear in 2021?” I wasn’t sure who she was asking, but then Mom abruptly whipped her focus to Carter and muttered, “Oh. Not missing. Dead.”
Dead. Carter’s vengeance. We were circling back to it, and to Rebecca, all over again.
Carter placed his hat back on his head, face forward, tugging the brim down to shield his eyes. “Why would Rebecca go to Craig Paulsen instead of her own husband about all of this?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said, speaking surprisingly softly. “But when she received the alleged evidence her parents were murdered, she sold off the rest of her family’s business holdings. She wanted to focus on Barclay Energy. She believed if her parents were killed, there had to be a connection to her father’s work in clean energy and someone was trying to stop him from being successful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but she asked me to never mention it to you. I wanted to respect her wishes, even in her death.”
“You didn’t think for one fucking second maybe looking into her parents’ death got her killed, too? The day I asked you at her funeral if you knew anything, that thought never crossed your mind?” Carter seethed, emotion heavy in his tone, anger laser-focused on my mother.
I hated sitting back and watching the scene unfold, feeling helpless, but I doubted interjecting myself into their conversation was the right move.
“I did. Of course I did. I told the CIA and FBI everything I knew. They found zero connection between her murder and the crash,” Mom shared. “I also didn’t tell you, because I wasn’t certain you didn’t?—”
“Kill her for eleven billion dollars?” Carter shook his head. “Or for that matter, kill her parents to set plans in motion long ago.” He reached around and held the nape of his neck as if his mental anguish had manifested into physical pain.
It was taking all of my restraint not to go and rub his back for him. To soothe him the way he’d taken care of me yesterday.
Carter sighed, defeat encapsulated in the simple sound. “Someone must’ve made Rebecca doubt me. Planted those seeds of uncertainty in her mind. There’s no other reason she wouldn’t tell me. Then she got sidetracked by Andrew’s blackmail.”
Griffin did what I wasn’t yet prepared to do in front of everyone—go to him. He nudged him in the side with his fist; not exactly what my approach would’ve been. “We’ll figure this out. If we left a loose end back in the day, we’ll wrap it the fuck up, don’t worry.”
Loose end. Back in the day. The phrases were clunky and unfamiliar, and they left a bad taste in my mouth. Did Griffin just imply he’d help Carter resume his quest for vengeance? Kill anyone still alive who may have had a hand in Rebecca’s death? Including a senator. Serve life in prison for it unless he could make it look like self-defense. Even then, it depended on the state where he murdered Craig.
Shit, I had to stop my runaway thoughts before I wound up on a collision course with panic and anxiety. Wild enough, two states I’d rarely seen my parents in growing up. They’d just been the original cause of mine.
