Who is Andrew talking about? Was he there when Jay went overboard? Or isthat bitchHelen Grant, and he’s talking about the look on Stephen’s face when he went overboard in the Caribbean?
“You killed Stephen Everett, didn’t you?” I ask.
Andrew lunges at me, but Taylor’s boyfriend holds him back.
Taylor narrows her eyes at me. “I hope you know the mess you’ve made. I still don’t get why you’re so obsessed with Jay.”
I shake my head. That’s exactly what Mia said. “No,you’reobsessed with Jay,” I say. “He was just living his life, happy with his mom, until you all came into it. All because you wanted something that was supposed to be his. Iknowhe was here that night. What did you do to him?”
“Hewasn’there,” Lance says. “You have no proof.”
“Bro, Iknowhe was here,” Jack says, holding on to his face. “Isawhim.”
“No one would believe a burnout like you, Jack,” Lance says.
“Nothingwas supposed to be his,” Andrew says. I don’t think he’s even listening to his son. “He wasn’t supposed to be here!Youaren’t supposed to be here either.” He looks at Jack. “As much as you’re a troublemaking punk,youbelong in this fucking place. But Salma didn’t belong here, and neither did her bastard kid. Stephen shouldn’thave polluted the waters. Knocking up some foreigner ... a fucking waitress ... animmigrant...” He saysimmigrantlike it’s a slur. “He shouldn’t have severed a family legacy! All of it should belong tomyson. It should all be Lance’s!”
“Racist piece of shit,” Jack says, which makes Andrew lunge again, but Taylor’s boyfriend has him. The guy is strong.
“Way to forget I exist again, Dad,” Taylor deadpans.
“Yeah, what about Taylor?” I ask. “Especially sinceshe’sthe one who brought Jay here to the marina for you. Are you sexist as well as racist? And too cowardly to do your own dirty work, so you have your kids do it for you?”
Lance’s eyes go wide and shoot to Taylor. Of course, he doesn’t know that Jay told me thatWednesdaywas taking him. I almost think Lance is going to admit something, but instead he snarls at me.
“Jay belonged in this world a hell of a lot more than any of you,” I spit out. Clearly Jay is not here, and he’s not alive. One of the three of them threw Jay off Jack’s boat—I just need to get them to admit it while my necklace records them. A thought occurs to me. “Hey, Jack?” I ask. “Do you think maybe Lanceandhis father were on your boat that night with Jay? With that douchey hat on, they look mighty similar. Maybe we should turn them both over to the police.”
Jack is still crouched on the dock, holding his eye. He nods, then wipes a trickle of blood dripping from his nose. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” Jack says. “Andy, you drugged me that night, didn’t you? With your favorite drug, GHB. Then you told Lance to toss Jay overboard. Just like you did to Stephen years ago. All of you are a complete waste of space. I’ll see that you are removed from the club forever—so better find some trailer park where you can fit in.”
No one says anything at that. I take their silence to mean Jack is right. Andrew was here, and one of them pushed Jay off the boat, but I still need one of them to say it.
I roll my eyes at Lance. “And of course you neededTaylor’shelp to get Jay here. Mia told me you were the most useless boyfriend she’d ever had and you could neverrise to the occasion.”
All hell breaks loose. Lance screams that I don’t fucking know what I’m talking about, and Andrew lunges at Jack again. Lance comes at me, and I come very close to falling in the water trying to get away from him before Taylor grabs Lance. Taylor’s boyfriend is the only thing keeping Andrew from hitting Jack again.
Lance eventually gives up on me and screams at Jack, “I should have thrown youbothoff your boat that night!”
Bingo.And I had that on the voice recorder.
The dock shakes with new footsteps. I turn to see two police officers. Even more chaos erupts. Lance is still screaming at Jack, Taylor is screaming at her boyfriend, and the boyfriend is still holding Andrew back. Other club members have come out to see what’s going on. And the cops are trying to shut it all down.
I don’t hear any of it, though. All I can think is that Andrew killed Stephen. And Lance killed Jay. Like fathers, like sons. Lance threw Jay into the water on that cold November night, just like his father did to Jay’s father five years ago. Jay isn’t alive. His father isn’t alive. My breath catches in my throat. We didn’t save anyone.
“Everyone stop shouting!” the woman officer says. Then she notices Taylor’s boyfriend holding Andrew’s hands behind him. “Cameron. What areyoudoing here?”
Taylor’s boyfriend sighs. “Failing miserably at a sting operation, apparently. This is Andrew Murray. Cuff him. I saw him assault that boy, Jack Gormley. I’ve been investigating Andrew for a fraud and money-laundering ring for months, and I was this close to getting him to give me the names of his associates. Doubt he’ll talk now.”
Wait, what? Taylor’s boyfriend is with thepolice?
Andrew looks back and forth between the two cops, his kids, me, and Jack, and realizes there’s nowhere to run. He snarls at Taylor.
“Your boyfriend’s afucking cop? My own daughter ...”
Taylor looks at her father with disgust, then anger. “You don’t care about your children,” she says angrily. “You only want our fucking money. Or Mom’s money.”
I blink repeatedly. Is this really happening? Why is everyone caring aboutmoneymore than murder? I point to Andrew Murray. “He practicallyadmittedto killing Stephen Everett. And Lance admitted he killed Jay Hoque. He threw him off Jack’s boat. Taylor lured Jay here. I have it all on audio,” I say, pointing to my necklace. “You should arrest Lance and Taylor too.”
Cameron, the undercover cop/boyfriend, shrugs. “Yep, may as well take Lance in too. We’ll sort it out at the station.”
