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“Jesus Christ, Flannery,” he says. “If a goddamn dumpster fire and a shitshow had a baby, and then that baby got together with a bomb and had baby, that kid would still be less fucked up than your situation.”
“I know.”
“You think he’s really working with the mob?”
“No. I think Jack Hale is,” I say. “And I think Marnie’s carrying his kid.” It’s the only thing that makes sense. Jack was the piece of the puzzle that I was missing. I think Brant knew the kid didn’t belong to him the minute Marnie told him she was pregnant. He probably threatened to leave her. Only she and Jack couldn’t risk losing control of the company, so they cooked up a plan to involve me.
She claimed he was the one working for the mob. Marnie fucking knew I’d leap to protect Raven. As soon as she had me where she wanted me, she killed Brant. With him out of the way, she and Jack had control of the company. All she had to do was keep me quiet and keep Raven out of the picture until the baby was born. At that point, Brant would be listed on the birth certificate since they were married when the baby was conceived, and she’d be home free. The courts would split the majority share of the company between Raven and the baby, leaving Jack with the controlling interest. The company would be theirs.
She fucked up, though. I would never have had a reason to suspect Jack had she not tried to keep Raven from graduating. She tipped her hand and fucked herself over. They weren’t in a business meeting when I went to see her. He didn’t look at her like a business associate. He looked at her like a man in love, one frustrated by a woman playing games.
He hated that I was there. As if I’d touch the bitch with a ten-foot pole. She’s pure poison. I don’t know when she and Jack started hooking up and I don’t want to know. All I want is to watch them both burn. They deserve everything they get. If I go up in flames with them, fuck it. At least I’ll take the two of them with me.
I owe Raven that much. I owe it to Brant too.
“Goddamn,” Kincaid says when I tell him my theory. “What the fuck is it with rich people? They’ll never be able to spend what they already have, but they’re still so fucking desperate for more. They’ll destroy their own flesh and blood and not even bat a lash.”
“Hell if I know,” I mutter.
“I don’t have many mob connections, but I know a few people who should be able to help,” he says. “I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you.” He pauses. “I’m guessing you need me to hurry it the fuck up?”
“That’d be nice.”
He grunts. “Does this island of yours have boats and shit?”
“It’s an island.”
“Right.”
I laugh quietly. Why am I not surprised Kincaid hasn’t stepped foot on one of the islands? He probably hasn’t ever left the city. I don’t think he ever takes a day off, truthfully.
“Consider me invited.”
“You help me bring them down, I’ll take you out on my boat.”
“Cool.” He pauses. “I’m not going fucking fishing, man.”
“Call me when you find something.”
“Flannery, I’m serious. I’m not fucking fishing!” he shouts.
I disconnect, dropping my phone on my desk. For a moment, I just sit there, staring blankly into space. Having the truth out there feels…different. Like a weight has been lifted. I’ve been carrying it for too long.
That was the easy part, though. The hard part is still to come.
That’s the part I might not survive.
