Page 95 of Overkill

“Hey, I know you don’t need to hear this, but just in case you did…” She paused, giving me the chance to swallow. “Old Man Smithy turned in his testimony saying he saw your stepdad on the water alone a year ago, and when he returned, the boat was empty. He said he just remembered it, so it’s now in the file that documented what happened as an accident.”

If the new testimony confirmed it was an accident, why did she sound like the case was still open ended? Like she was waiting for me to correct her somehow? Like I had something else to say?

“An independent PI company hired by Turner Gray also corroborated not only that testimony, they also had some forensic person look at the boat and Luke’s truck—which was still in evidence—and their experts said all of that checks out, too. They also threw in a lot of evidence about Ian Gray. His phone, his computer. We seized it all this morning, and…” She let out a low whistle. “Looks like the Grays were in some money problems, and Ian was sweating about not getting enough scholarships to go to Northeastern U. Someone put it in his head that if they got their hands on Marc and Miriam, the family would have access to their trusts and could use that on his tuition. Pretty clear motive there.”

Everything seemed to wrap up too well. It was too tidy.

“Open and shut.” She tipped her head, and I sighed. “We also found Ian and his gun washed up near Bridge Street. Bullets match what was found on your leg.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Open and shut, indeed.”

Whitlaw smirked, stepping farther into the room as she lowered her voice.

“Listen, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but you have plenty to get yourself a protective order against a certain person we’re both acquainted with.”

My eyes widened.

She meant Turner. Who else did we mutually hate?

“I’m happy to put the final nail in this, Mel. Hope you feel better.”

She turned and walked away, leaving me in silence.

And this time, I did feel lighter. Like it really was over. At least this part.

Chapter 33

Justice

Vedder

I gave Marcus the keys to Melody’s truck and let him drive on his own to the hospital to pick her up. He had a license, but they only had one car, so he never got much time behind the wheel. I wanted to fix that before Melody told me to clear out of her life.

It was the least I could do.

Marc and I had bonded over the past few days, and I did everything I could to teach him the basic skills he’d need to fix the rest of this house. He should know enough to YouTube the rest.

He had a knack for building things. Maybe he’d take his temper out on wood instead of on his sister.

Today, I was tucking tail on my way to Braun, so I could apologize and let him keep his damn money.

I handed him a report that exonerated Melody, including my notes on what Old Man Smithy had “remembered.” He read it, grunted, and nodded as he scanned it before passing it on to the client.

“Tell me, operator,” he drawled. “Why is my own employee handing me a crock of bullshit to give to the most powerful family in this county?”

I shrugged.

“You’ve seen the same fucked up shit I have,” I said, hoping he’d pick up what I was putting down. “Abused people end up dying in prison because they kill their abuser.”

Braun kept looking at me with suspicion.

“You know justice ain’t perfect.”

The more I thought about what Smithy had said. Power was a thing with many legs. Take out one leg, and the others would still hold it up—whether those legs were influence, money, or threats, there was always something.

And as I thought of Melody, I knew he was right about that, too.

If Smithy had said something, the smear campaign on her would have opened her scars for all to see, to criticize, to call into question.