"Everything is in place, sir. He has arrived in Sweden safely."
Considering people would be looking for these men, we had to adjust our normal routines. We couldn't simply dispose of their bodies, never to be found again, never to be looked for even. These men had to be discovered. In three weeks, someone would find him, having died from what will appear to be a violent, brutal suicide, just like his friends. We’d made sure that any evidence of dismemberment was hidden, and along with what was left of his body, they'd find the suicide note he wrote.
It was difficult, but it was necessary.
Fight for your green light, she said. Well, I'd fight anyone and everything to capture it.
"Now, on to our last guest," I said, sitting back down. "I am excited for dinner. Jules said he was planning on a cake for dessert."
"Yes, about that. I think it might be harder to get him here."
"I did consider that. We can wait as long as we need to. If he wants to play games."
"I—Sir, the private detective is here."
It was almost midnight.
"Send him in." A moment later, a man came in, looking very pleased with himself.
"Good evening, sir, I know it's late, but I thought it was a safe assumption you'd be up. Even so, I knew you'd want this information now. I couldn't wait."
"Good call, Will, sit. You want a drink?" I went to the mini bar and prepared myself a drink.
"Oh, yes, please, whatever you're drinking. I'm sure you've got something good." He chuckled. "Fitting for what I've got."
"And what is that, exactly?" I asked, returning to the other side of the room. I handed him his drink and went around to sit at my desk.
"I was finally able to break through everything on Lydia Stanton and Daisy Lovelace." He took a gulp of his drink and reached into his bag, pulling out his laptop. "I think I know why everything was kept so tight-lipped."
He set his drink on my desk, opened the computer, and typed quickly. He turned his screen to face me. "This will all be sent directly to you, of course, but I needed to see your face when you saw this." He grinned.
I took the laptop and set it down so I could scroll the documents he'd pulled up.
"What exactly am I reading?" I asked sternly.
"Look at the dates, Gatsby. Lydia was born May 12th, four years ago, which means Daisy Lovelace got pregnant nine months before."
I raised my head and tried to do the math. Nine months before May was...
I'd stopped breathing. No, this couldn't be right.
Will nodded slowly. "You were arrested that same month. Which could mean nothing, except for this video I found."
He turned his computer back to him, clicked a few buttons, then returned it to me, a video pulled up.
"Just push Play."
"What is this?" I asked, eyeing him warily.
"That is Max Stanton talking to Daisy Lovelace while she waits for a bus. The building she'd just come out of had a number of security cameras. Considering the nature of the business, they keep records for a very, very long time."
I pushed Play and watched the two of them talking. The video had no sound, but I could see that she'd been crying, and he seemed smug, happy even, to have seen her. He offered her his hand, and she frowned, before taking it, seeming to make an agreement.
"What is the business? Where are they?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the two in the video.
"It's an abortion clinic. I have reason to believe that your Daisy was pregnant and second-guessed her original plans that day. This video seems to prove my theory. Gatsby, I think Lydia Stanton is your child, not Max's."
Chapter 60
