He sighed and took off his glasses, cleaning them with a handkerchief. “You ever stop to think maybe your grandfather wasn’t the villain you made him out to be?”
I frowned. “The fuck that come from? You really wanna go there right now?”
“I think you need to,” he said, eyes sharp now. “You think that man cut off his own daughter for fun? You think he sat in his mansion just watching her struggle, enjoying it?”
“That’s exactly what he did,” I snapped. “He left her with nothing, leftuswith nothing, while he died sitting on more money than God.”
“That man loved you, all of you. Yeah, he died wealthy. But he died heartbroken.” Carlos’s tone softened, but it didn’t lose weight. “There are things about that time you don’t know. Things your mother never told you.”
“Then tell me.”
He looked toward the window, the skyline glinting behind him. “Not my story to tell,” he said quietly. “But I will say this—Gillian… she’s not innocent in all of this.”
Something twisted in my gut. “What you mean by that?”
“I mean, if you want answers, and she won’t give them to you, there’s someone else you should ask.”
I exhaled sharply. “Who?”
“Your father’s brother,” he said, his voice lowering. “Medgar.”
I frowned. “Unc? He been locked up damn near twenty years. What he know about this?”
Carlos hesitated. “Maybe more than you think. Sometimes the truth don’t come from the people you expect.”
I leaned back, staring at him. He wasn’t the type to speak in riddles. Whatever he knew, he was keeping it close.
“All right,” I said finally. “I’ll pay him a visit.”
He nodded. “Do that. And, Mekhi…” He fixed me with that steady old-lawyer stare that always made me feel nineteen again. “Be careful. Don’t let your mama’s ghosts become your demons.”
I was about to ask what the hell that meant when the distant sound of a siren cut through the air. Then another. Then more.
Carlos glanced toward the window. “What the?—”
The door burst open. My assistant Kimora stood there, face pale, breath coming fast. “Mekhi, we gotta go! Fire department’s evacuating the building—there’s a bomb threat!”
I stood immediately, staring at her because I had to have heard that shit wrong. “A what?”
“The whole block’s swarming with cops and first responders. They said everyone needs to clear outnow.”
We moved quickly, joining the flood of people with whom we shared the building heading for the stairwell. Sirens wailed closer, echoing through the streets as we spilled out into the heated air. Red and blue lights flashed across glass and concrete. I scanned the crowd, eyes narrowed. I already knew who was behind this.
Trell.
Then I saw him.Detective Lawrence Turner. I’d forgotten he worked over here, too; his movements weren’t important enough for me to track. But Emancipation’s small police force could only support and sustain a few full-time detectives. They had agreements with other cities to share manpower. That’s how Turner came to be over here, leaning against a squad car, smiling that same smug grin he’d been aiming at me since I was a kid. It stretched across his face like he’d been waiting all week for this moment.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Venzant,” he said as I approached. “Always in the middle of something lately, huh?”
“You want something or you just like being in my presence?” I asked.
He chuckled. “When they clear this building, I’ma do a little investigating. Seems like somebody thinks you might have a littleextrastashed in that fancy office of yours.”
I stepped close enough for him to smell the money he’d never make in his life. “That right? You searching for bombs or hoping to finally find the significance of your career?”
His jaw clenched. “Watch your mouth, Venzant. This ain’t the block right here.”
“And yet, I still run it,” I shot back. “Ain’t my fault you still salty ’cause I made it out the mud while you praying for a promotion.”
