Page 11 of Plain Sight

“I didn’t ask his name.” My palms heat up again. I didn’t draw any blood, and here I am, wondering if what I’m feeling is guilt.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Besides the obvious, I mean. Besides the fact that I’ve spent years doing crimes on behalf of the less powerful. I’ve rescued pigs and chickens and one snowball-looking bird. I’m a fucking vegetarian. According to Lily, I might be Jesus.

It’s like the property values. I know that the guy at the cathedral was a victim, too.

He was probably a victim. Of capitalism. Of the judge. Of the judge’s middleman. If I’m being very fucking generous, I can imagine a scenario where he didn’t want to be involved in kidnapping a bride on her wedding day.

Despite all that, I don’t think I’m feeling guilt about how I shook him.

I feel guilty because I didn’t kill him.

Killing isn’t my thing. It’s the judge’s thing.

Hades taps away at his phone.

“Who are you texting?”

“Zeus,” he says. “He knows everyone and their secrets.”

“You didn’t think to mention that earlier?”

“You didn’t ask.” He cuts me a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “And you were high the last time we discussed this. Would you have remembered if I told you?”

“Probably not.”

I miss the painkillers. There’s still a faint ache left over in my ribs from the cops. I should have been resting for a month or two at minimum, but that’s not a thing Hills do. We get tossed off buildings or jump out of them or get kicked around by cops and keep going.

Hades’s phone buzzes in his hand several times in a row. He holds it up so I can see the screen.

The first text is just a name, bland and forgettable.

Zeus: That’s the guy we have here.

Zeus: Consortium members

Zeus: Bettencourt/Hayes—unclear who was first to approach. Hayes is the one left standing.

Three dots hop up and down on the screen. He’s typing something else. Hades doesn’t move the phone, and I watch it like this next message is going to be the answer to everything. I wouldn’t mind if it said Lily turned up in the cathedral, you can all come back, everything’s fine.

Zeus: Sorry. Poseidon’s being a fucking pirate.

Zeus: Ah.

This is going to make me stroke out.

Zeus: Our friend here gave me a name, but it was an alias.

Zeus: There was another name on more paperwork—only unsealed after Bettencourt died. He didn’t want this getting out.

“He didn’t want what getting out?” I bark at the phone.

“Jesus, Jameson,” Mason says.

Zeus: Malcolm Walsh

Zeus: He’s the man who took Lily