His Pregnant Irish Mafia Bride
Page 23
My inbox received more emails than I could keep up with, and they were from people who’d spent hours rifling through their own old documents. Some people sent newspaper articles from around the time of the fire; some sent photographs, police rumors, and stories they claimed they’d heard from family members or people who knew people who lived in Boston back then.
One or two of the messages even gave me clues to things that weren’t in any of the documents Elias had uncovered.
None of it was necessarily useful. A lot of listeners dismissed my entire theory as me making connections where there weren’t any because I wanted the story to be interesting. Other listeners were convinced that I’d uncovered a smoking gun buried deep by people who didn’t want it found.
I read every email. With each piece of information I received, the story became more and more complex. Then I received a message that stopped me dead in my tracks. It was from an anonymous sender. They’d attached an old newspaper clipping to the email, along with a short explanation. The clipping said that Ronan O’Connor had been implicated in a series of retaliatory raids that had occurred around the time of the fire.
The name stared me in the face. Ronan O’Connor. Again. I knew about the O’Connor organization and the financial ties Elias had uncovered related to them. But this was…different.
Now a new source, a complete stranger, claimed that Ronan O’Connor, the man whose name continued to pop up in Elias’s files, had personally taken part in retaliation raids that occurred during that exact period of time.
I read the email again. Then a third time. There was no proof to back up the statement. The newspaper article stated that there had been organized crime activity and retaliation happening at the time, but gave no details as to Ronan O’Connor’s specific actions.
This could simply have been a rumor. It could have been someone relaying something they’d heard years ago, or someone trying to send me down a specific path. It could even have been a calculated attempt to plant false information. An anonymous email wasn’t evidence. I knew that. And yet…I couldn’t shake it.
Every piece of information I’d previously pieced together about Ronan O’Connor flooded my mind. I’d already seen his name appear many times in Elias’s documents. Now there was a source naming him, and even if they were anonymous, I couldn’t ignore it.
I closed the email. A few seconds later, I reopened it. The words were still the same. It’s not going to change, Sofi. For the first time since the episode, I actually wanted to quit and take comfort in my ignorance. That lasted only a few seconds before I opened the laptop again.
By seven, Leigh was at my door, her exhaustion from the flight still clinging to her like dust. As she set her bag by the couch, she kicked off her shoes.
I’d already started dinner, and she walked into the kitchen behind me without offering to help. Leigh belonged with the Ronnies of this world when cooking was involved.
Leigh never treated my apartment like somebody else’s. She just walked in and felt right at home. While we cooked, I filled her in on all that had happened with Buried Saints since she’d left. The episode was a success, with views higher than anything I’d put out before.
Leigh beamed. She kept checking the numbers on my phone with a disbelieving shake of her head while I acted like I wasn’t doing that myself every few minutes. By the time we sat down with wine, the jokes had long subsided into a quieter tone. Leigh looked at me across the table.
“You know I’m proud of you, right? You’ve always told yourself digging into the fire isn’t going to change anything, but you’ve finally stopped letting fear dictate every choice for you. Whatever ends up coming from the investigation, at least you’re finally facing something that’s been weighing on you since you were a kid.”
I looked down at my glass. “I thought it would feel better.”
She waited. I knew that expression. Leigh had always been the best at waiting me out until I said what I didn’t want to say.
“The episode is getting a lot of traction,” I admitted. “More than I expected. I’m receiving information, and some of it is actually useful. But now I have to face the possibility that I might find out the truth, and I might not like what I discover.”
Leigh’s expression turned serious. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Sofia, you’re digging into the lives of people who’ve potentially spent the last fifteen years making sure that none of this was ever questioned. You don’t know who’s monitoring your online activity, and you don’t know what they might do if they decide you’re getting too close.”
“I know.”
I looked up at her. She spoke again before I could answer.
“You’ve spent years building a wall around yourself because very young in life you learned that no one else was going to protect you. I get why you need answers. I get why you can’t stop yourself now that you might have actually found a lead. But you have to remember finding that the truth and surviving it are two separate things.”
I let out a long exhale. Her words lingered with me. It was a while before either of us said anything. I took a sip of wine and tried to convince myself that the knot I felt in my stomach was just from the investigation.
It wasn’t. “There’s also this other thing.”
Leigh raised an eyebrow. “Ronnie? I know. I’ve been listening to you talk about him for days. Every time we discuss the investigation, you find a way to bring him up.”
I gave a small laugh, which died quickly. “I don’t really know what’s going on with him.”
Leigh leaned back in her chair and waited.
“I really like him,” I finally managed. “So much more than I thought I was going to.”
“How much do you know about him?”
“Not enough.” I looked at my glass again. “I know he’s a lot older than me, and I know he’s private. And I know there’s something he’s not telling me.”