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“Reggie it’s me, there’s been an accident, we need you to go to Dan’s office and get his laptop.” Her voice is distinctly calmer and far more strident than Jack’s and the demand without any explanation snaps my patience.
“Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll call you back.” I ignore her groan of frustration and hang up so I can focus on getting myself out of the hotel room as quickly as possible.
I hurry back into the bedroom, sacrificing stealth for speed as I throw my clothes on.
Charlie turns over once, but otherwise doesn’t wake up while I finish zipping up my jeans, slip my feet into the silver ballet flats, put all my jewelry back on, grab my purse. I eye his prone form with envy. I wish I’d slept through the notifications on my phone.
In less than a minute, I’m walking out of the hotel room, and calling them back.
Matty answers on the first ring. “I can’t believe you hung up on me Regan, this is an emergency.” Her voice is edging to the same level of hysteria as Jack’s was and a renewed sense of urgency propels me away from the elevator and toward the stairs.
“Tell me what is going on. I heard a gunshot.”
There’s a beat of silence and I know she’s annoyed that I ignored her complaint. When she speaks her voice is taut with annoyance. “Dan was hit in the leg.”
I come to a complete stop in the hallway, my hand cover my eyes as horror and confusion kick my heartbeat into overdrive. “By who?” I shout when I find my voice again.
“It was an accident,” Matty says as if she can’t believe she’s having to explain herself.
“What the hell are you doing with a gun?” Anger dislodges my shock and I start walking again.
“It was just in case. He was supposed to have his laptop on him, but he didn’t. Then, he wouldn’t tell us where it was, so I waved the gun at him. It went off and he was hit in the leg. He said it was in his office.”
“Why are you at his house? What in the world do you need his laptop for?” I fly down the stairs two at a time.
“He was supposed to come straight from the airport. We were going to take his laptop and get him to sign a confession and take it to the police,” Matty explains.
“A confession about what?” I ask, in a guarded voice. I grab the railing of the stairs and sink down on one of the steps. This is so much worse than I thought.
There are a few seconds of silence, and I know that she’s counting to five, the way she does whenever she’s trying not to lose it.
Dan has been my grandfather’s right-hand for the last twenty years. He’s the most upstanding, straight-laced person I know. Whatever they think he’s done, they’re wrong.
“This isn’t the time to explain. He’s okay. It’s not even bleeding anymore. But we need that laptop. Please just go and get it.”
“If you want me to do anything other than hang up and call 9-1-1, you better start explaining why you were at Dan Harrison’s house in the middle of the night waiting for him to come home.” I’m not bluffing. I never do. And she knows it.
A tense silence yawns between us and I wait for her to decide what happens next.
“We think he’s the John Rebecca mentioned at Wilde.”
“Please tell me you are not fucking serious. What in the hell?”
“I know you think it’s bullshit, but it’s not.” Matty’s voice is just as insistent as mine.
“Oh my God. What have you done?” I groan, despair lodged in my throat like a tumor.
“You said you didn’t want anything to do with it. So, we didn’t tell you. But we kept digging Regan and we know it’s him. But we need that laptop. Please, help us. I promise this isn’t a whim. We have proof.”
“Then why’d you break into his house and hold a gun on him?” I ask acidly.
. “Because we need his laptop. There’s evidence on there.”
“Then, call the police. I don’t want to be in your little circle of trust now that your harebrained scheme is blowing up in your faces.” I growl.
She’s quiet for so long that I start to relax, maybe I’ve finally gotten through to her. Her next words shatter that hope.
“There are pictures of Jack on that laptop. She saw them.” Her voice is full of meaning I wish I could pretend to misunderstand. Jack hasn’t let anyone take her picture in 6 years. Not since that night. A shiver runs over my body and my mouth goes dry. I close my eyes against the wave of nausea that comes out of nowhere. I double over and take a deep breath to try and stem it. I know I won’t throw up. I never do. But it still feels like I need to.
