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“Keenan, I know how you sound when you lie,” she said.
“What are you talking about? I’ve been kidnapped! And you’re trying to interpret my voice,” he said.
He made a fair point, and for a moment, Amethyst seemed to consider it.
Then she looked back at me, her expression grudging but open.
“Explain,” she said.
I didn’t speak immediately but instead took a moment to be impressed.
Amethyst was damned annoying, especially when she was poking around places she had no business being. But she was formidable.
“Take a look,” I said.
I reached into my pocket and handed her the same sheet of paper I had shown Elias.
I watched her gaze as she studied the paper and then read out loud. “Policy of insurance for the life of Amethyst Rose James. Five million dollar payout. Beneficiary is Keenan Allen.”
“What’s that?” Keenan asked, his voice at least three octaves higher than it was usually.
She ignored him. “I’m supposed to take your word for this?”
“You don’t have to take my word for anything. You have evidence,” I said.
“I have a piece of paper that you gave me,” she responded.
I lifted my hand, and one of my men walked over with a cell phone.
“Press play,” I said, extending the phone to Amy.
She hesitated a moment then took it.
She hit the button, and I watched as she watched. It showed Keenan entering an office building similar to the one that housed James Industries.
But it was an insurance agency, one that wrote big policies.
“Keep going,” I said when that clip ended.
She scrolled through, then looked at a series of images. Keenan at the insurance agency again. Then Keenan meeting with a man I was sure Amethyst would recognize, even if she hadn’t seen his face.
“You recognize him, don’t you?”
“How did you get this?”
“If Keenan knew what the fuck he was doing, he would know that all quality hitmen leave a trail behind. Evidence in case something should go wrong. This was his.”
She looked through all the pictures again and then looked up at me.
“One last thing,” I said.
I took the phone from her hand, pushed a couple of buttons, and then handed it back to her.
“A bank transfer,” she said.
“Yes, but I was wrong about one thing,” I said.
She lifted her eyes to mine, her expression grim. “And what was that?”
