AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Look through the rest of these pictures and I’ll explain.”
He handed me eight more pictures. Each one showed either my father, General Bailey, or Daniel Rubinstein, or a mixture of the three of them, at various parties. In each picture, General Bailey and Rubinstein were with different women. Nothing seemed inappropriate if you looked at the pictures quickly, but at closer look, there were hands on knees, hands on backs and shoulders. I had no idea about General Bailey, but I knew Rubinstein was married, and I wanted to throw up at the pictures of my father. The only difference with the pictures of him was that in the other pictures, the other girls were different in each shot. In the pictures my father was in, he was photographed with the same red head. Six. Times.
“What does all this mean? I don’t understand.”
I dropped the pictures of the other men and focused on the photographs of my father and the mystery red-head, who truthfully, looked no older than I was when my father died.
Dante stood up to move back to his desk. I immediately missed the warmth and comfort his close presence brought me. He opened the desk drawer again and took out another folder.
He sat in his chair and spread open the file on his desk.
“Phillip McKenzie was a billionaire with more money than he knew what to do with. He was a spoiled man who was raised with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. So deep I think he nearly choked on it. He never did a hard day’s work in his life, but he surrounded himself with hardworking people. He paid a lot of people a lot of money to keep him out of trouble.
“I’m going to make a long story short, Noemi, because McKenzie’s story is sick and perverted, and not something I want to taint you with. I’ll just say that McKenzie’s boredom led him to a life of depravity. He broke laws. He treated people, women, like they were his property.”
I bit down on my lip.
“Don’t worry. He paid the price for his actions.”
“What happened to him?” I dared to ask, not sure what Dante would tell me and wondering if he’d admit to murder.
He shrugged. “He was found dead in his villa in Italy four years ago. His death was ruled a suicide.”
“I don’t understand what he has to do with my father. How did they know each other?”
Dante pulled a picture out of the folder and pushed it across the desk to me. I stood up and looked down at it, the most condemning of all. McKenzie, my father and the mystery red-head.
Dread filled my stomach. “Who is she?”
Dante sat back in his chair. “Her name is Lydia Padgett. She was one of McKenzie’s victims.”
“Victim? She doesn’t look like a victim in that picture,” I sneered. I didn’t feel much sympathy for a woman who had her hand on my father’s knee.
“The picture is misleading. At the time it was taken, Lydia had just turned eighteen.”
“So, was my father having an affair with her? Why are they together in all these pictures? Dante, stop trying to spare me and tell me what all of these pictures have to do with my parents’ deaths.”
I didn’t want to feel the pain slowly. I wanted all of it at once, like pulling the bandage off quickly, not bit by agonizing bit.
Dante leveled his stare at me. “Phillip McKenzie trafficked young girls. He groomed them and molded them until they became of age, then he whored them out to his friends. In some cases, the girls weren’t even aware of it. They were invited to parties. They were made to feel special. And then, usually very shortly after they turned eighteen, like days after, they were seduced by a man who had spent the last few months getting to know them. Each girl was selected then preyed upon by a wealthy bastard. Sometimes, the seduction led to a brief affair, but most of the time, it was over before it began. McKenzie’s client paid hundreds of thousands to be with the girl of his choice. The girl was used, physically, and emotionally. Several of them committed suicide afterward.”
“Oh my God. How long did this go on? How many girls did he do this to?”
Dante shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it was dozens. Like most men who get away with their crimes, he started to get lazy and sloppy. His handlers worked harder and harder to keep his activities a secret.”
I sifted through the pictures one more time. “How could they do that? How could anyone keep this a secret?”
“The only people who knew about it would never talk,” he said quietly. “If they did, they would be admitting their own guilt. They were all complicit, Noemi. And the girls were given a substantial parting gift. There were bribes and payoffs. Most of the girls would have either not realized what had happened behind the scenes or they were too scared to talk. I know there were at least two who disappeared.”
“Disappeared,” I repeated numbly as I went back to the picture of my father and Lydia.
“My father wouldn’t do anything like that,” I denied as the pieces clicked like the jagged edges of broken glass, meant to be part of a whole, but not fitting perfectly, making your fingers bleed as you tried to make them fit.
“He didn’t,” Dante replied, and my breathing became easier. “At first.”
All my breath left me. I put the pictures down and hugged the pillow again, listening to his words. I sought out his tone and the deep timbre of his voice, using it as a shield against the oncoming pain.
“Your father had a working relationship with General Bailey and Daniel Rubinstein. Over time, they worked on him. Invited him to some of the parties and eventually, he accepted. From what I know, he behaved himself. He showed no interest in any of the women. Until the night he met Lydia.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Even then, he kept her at a distance, but the temptation was great. He started attending more and more parties. He spent more time with Lydia, and only Lydia, not moving from girl to girl like the other men.”
“Did he sleep with her?”
Dante didn’t want to answer the question. I could see the rare reluctance in his eyes.
“Tell me the truth,” I whispered, scared to death of what the truth would be.
Slowly, so slowly I barely saw his head move, he nodded.
