Page 170 of Playing By Ear

The silence hung like smog. Jamie sat shell-shocked. He’d expected Martin to lie or lash out. Not confess.

“Couldn’t you have sent Ritchie away, like you told me and Belinda you’d done? Why did he have to die?”

“To send a message. If I’d kill my own flesh and blood, what’s that mean for everyone else?” He sniffed. “Naebody fucked me about after that. To this day, my name puts the frighteners on all Glasgow. It’s how I’ve stayed in power. It’s how I’ve stayed alive.”

“And all you had to do,” Jamie said, “was murder your brother’s only child.”

“Aye,” his father whispered. “That’s all.”

Jamie stood slowly, clutching his shoe and walking boot to his chest. “We should spend some time apart.”

Martin’s gaze dropped to Layla, who sat looking between them with concern. “I understand.”

Jamie left the bedroom and went to his room to fetch his jacket and keys. How long was some time apart? An hour? A day? The rest of his father’s life?

He found Belinda sitting on his mattress, staring straight ahead, hugging her knees to her chest. Her face was stiff with shock.

“Bel, what’s wrong?”

She said nothing, didn’t even look up at him.

“Belinda!”

Still she stared, eyes wide and wet, into nothingness.

Then their dad coughed. Jamie heard it twice—once behind him, coming from Martin’s room…

…and once in front of him, echoing from the baby monitor.

Chapter 33

“Bel…” He took a small step toward her. “Did you hear all that?” He wanted to punch himself for leaving the monitor on.

She let out the barest of whimpers, her stare still fixed on the darkened screen.

So he’d been right. Somewhere along the way, his sister had stopped believing him about Ritchie, and now she had to face the truth.

Belinda buried her face in her arms, fisted her hair, and released a muffled scream.

Jamie dropped his shoes and rushed to her. “Wheesht! Dad’s still awake. He’ll hear you.”

“Good!” Belinda lifted her head, her eyes wild with fury. “I hope he never sleeps again!”

“Please.” He looked back at the open doorway. “Please, just keep the head.”

“Oh, I have kept the head, Jamie.” Her voice was a low, sonorous rumble. “I have kept my fucking head every fucking day since Mum died.” She lurched to her feet and stalked out of the room.

Jamie scrambled to follow her. “Bel, don’t go in there. Not like⁠—”

She shoved open their father’s door so hard it hit the wall and bounced back, whacking Jamie in the elbow.

“I gave my life!” She advanced on Martin’s bedridden figure. “I convinced myself Jamie was wrong, because there was no way in my stupid little mind you could be that evil. That-that delusion let me join you in the firm, let you groom me to take your place. It let me marry Stuart!” She pointed back at Jamie. “My brother was right all along, and I let him live in exile. He was sharing bedsits while you and I were sipping single malts and squeezing every last penny from our victims. Now I’m tied to every crime you’ve committed these last ten years. You let me stain myself. How long before Lucy’s stained too?”

Martin didn’t try to interrupt or defend himself, just gazed wearily up at Belinda, his face twisted with regret or physical pain or both.

Layla, on the other hand…

The elephant dog sat up straight, her prodigious muscles tensing further with every word of righteous recrimination. She’d been born and trained to protect her master from threats, and right now, Belinda looked as though she could rip Martin’s throat out with her French-manicured nails.