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“On Mukta, it’s basically what you can read online. As a child, she was attacked with acid, then adopted by two aid workers, a wealthy lesbian couple. They trained Mukta in the art of business, but she’s never stopped acquiring skills. She’s got a shit-ton of degrees, two doctorates and not the honorary kind. It’s my guess that she got interested in all that science when she was a kid. She had a couple of serious surgeries on her face, and that’s where she met her right-hand man, Leland—in the hospital.”
Bowtie as straight as I can make it, I give Victor my attention. “She met him in the hospital? Was he a sick kid?”
“No. Had a younger sister with leukemia who was at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia when Mukta was there having one of her surgeries.”
“The sister?”
“She survived. Gotta love CHOP. Anyway, fast-forward a couple dozen years and the sister marries, gets pregnant, has un niño, and endures a pattern of domestic disturbances. For years, the police show up, but never take her husband in. Then, one day, out of the blue, the sister goes missing. The police suspect the husband, but they’ve no proof and they never locate a body. Not long after the wife goes missing, the husband abandons his home, takes the boy, and disappears.”
Victor has my undivided attention. “Are you suggesting this guy killed Leland’s sister and disappeared with the child? What happened to the man? What happened to the boy?”
Sitting up, Victor dusts crumbs from his shirt directly onto my bed.
“Dude.”
“Sorry.” He wipes the crumbs onto his palm, then deposits them in my wastepaper basket. “The disappeared father resurfaces six years later when he reports his eleven-year-old son missing. The kid ran away from home.”
I swallow a growing dread. “Ran away or was killed like the mom?”
“Hold on, because this is where it gets interesting. Six months after the father shows back up, he’s found dead by suicide. According to his suicide note, his conscience got the better of him, so he admits to abusing his son and killing his wife. The letter went so far as to direct the police where to find his wife’s body.”
“What happened to the kid?”
“He was adopted by the Parish family.”
Chills ride down my body. “Tony is Leland’s nephew?”
“Not that you’d know that by reading any of the adoption paperwork. Mukta’s name is on all the official papers. Leland isn’t mentioned, and as for any family related to Tony, it simply states none could be found.”
I can’t wrap my head around this. “Justice told me she was responsible for Tony’s adoption. She said she found him in an alley.”
Victor frowns, rolls the bag up, and puts it on my nightstand. “Do you think she lied?”
“Hell, no. She believed what she told me. They lied to her, probably the rest of the family, and maybe even Tony. But why?”
“I’ve got a guess.”
I don’t like the tone in his voice. “Go on.”
“The records on the father’s suicide suggest he’d been in a fight earlier that day. Apparently, there were bruises all over his body.”
My blood runs cold. I know exactly what Victor is suggesting. It wasn’t a suicide. And maybe the reason the family lied about Tony is because they didn’t want to be associated with the death of the father. He could be right, but I’m not going to comment. Victor is my partner and tied to this enough; I don’t want him drawn into this bullshit. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“Not so sure,” Victor says, standing and dusting the crumbs off my bed and into his waiting hand. “I have to wonder how long it will take the FBI to start piecing some of this shit together. After the attack two weeks ago, they’re still investigating the school and the family, right?”
I swallow to help my suddenly dry throat. “Yep.”
He straightens, shoulders locked tight. “Does this have anything to do with why you were chased from Za’atari?”
I wait a moment before responding. “Do you really want in on this, man?”
He waits longer before answering, and my heart jumps into my throat. If he asks, I will tell him.
He shakes his head. “No. No, I don’t. I honestly don’t get why you do.”
Hard to miss the splinter of annoyance in Victor’s voice as he walks over and begins to fiddle with my tie. “Why’re you going to this party?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
