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Only then will he face the consequences of the
crime he chose to undertake at Johnston Bay.
That’s why I’m on my knees, begging you to walk away…
Because although he needs to be punished,
my heart won’t survive the outcome if you choose to stay.”
I realize I closed my eyes partway through my performance when a clap startles them open. Knox is standing in front of the ladder I scaled to reach the rooftop.
He should look pissed—I ruined his plan—but for some reason, he looks smug.
I learn why when he says, “Your lawyer was good, but even she forgot to remove the first refusal rights of your contract. That means I get first dibs for any song you write, whether on your death bed or before what the media will claim was your unfortunate demise when your guilt became too much.” He screws up his face like vomit scorched the back of his throat. “It was a little dramatic, but when fans learn it was written only minutes before your suicide, they’ll gobble it up.”
With a gun he pulls from the back of his trousers, he gestures for me to join him near the ledge.
“No.” My reply isn’t as confident as I hoped, but Knox still hears it.
The fury that lines his face announces this, not to mention his shouted words. “I wasn’t fucking asking! Come.Here.”
“No.” That’s closer to what I’m aiming for. Stern and determined. “You’ve already gotten away with murder once. I won’t let you do it again.” The anger on his face is unlike anything I’ve ever seen when I ask, “Or should I say twice since you killed your own child?”
“That whore’s bastard had nothing to do with me!”
His gun flings to the rooftop door when a familiar voice says, “You’re a liar, Knox.” Laken raises his hands before lifting his shirt to show Knox he’s unarmed. It lessens Knox’s shakes, but only by a smidge. “But that isn’t your fault. You learned from the best.” He flashes his eyes to me for the quickest second to make sure I’m okay before he slowly approaches a shaky Knox. “What did he tell you that night, Knox? That she was going to ruin your family? That you’d have to share your inheritance with a child he didn’t want?” I realize there’s more to this story than I realized when Laken says, “Let me guess, he even blamed her for the demise of his marriage.”
Knox’s reply is spat from his mouth like venom. “She knew he was married. She knowingly fucked a married man.”
“Then why was she upset when she showed up unannounced the night of your eighteenth? Why did she cry when she saw the family portraits adorning the walls?” When his questions remain unanswered, he asks one only Knox can answer. “Why did you offer to drive her home when you knew she was pregnant with your father’s kid?”
“Because he said it was my responsibility. If I didn’t want my trust dwindled to nothing, I had to help him.” His priorities are undoubtedly skewed when he mutters, “He was going to take it all away. Every last cent. I had to do as asked.” Knox locks his watering eyes with me. “She was going to ruin everything.” He stops, screws his nose up, then starts again. “Shedidruin everything. My mother took us to the cleaners. She left us nothing.”
The gun rattles as rigidly as Knox’s breaths when Laken discloses, “Your mother has been missing for over a year.”
“Because she’s living it up with one hundred million dollars.”
“Her bank account hasn’t been touched by her either.” When Knox stares at Laken like there’s no way he could know that, Laken breathes heavily out of his nose. “Toilet cleaning wasn’t River’s sole chore. He also had to collect the mail. During a heavy storm, the envelopes were soaked and disintegrated in his hands. He tried to save the documents inside with a hairdryer. They were statements from your parents’ joint bank account. The only card using the substantial funds the prior three months was in your father’s name.”
“No! He said she took it all. That she wiped us clean. She only left money for River.”
“The money in River’s account is the money I sent him, Knox.” Laken works his jaw side to side before correcting, “The money thatwasin River’s account was the money I sent him.”
Even with the truth blatantly obvious, Knox still tries to deny it. “No. My father wouldn’t do this to me. He loves me. That’s why he left me the task of running my car off the road. He knew I’d do it for him. That I’d take care of his whore and her baby. I killed them for him!” His voice reaches an ear-piercing level at the end of his statement, meaning the microphone I left on has no issues picking up his confession. It broadcasts his crime for the world to hear.
After yanking out the cable responsible for his suddenly white face, Knox points his gun at my head while projecting his voice at Laken. “You think you’re so fucking smart, but you forget you can’t manipulate the master. By the time help arrives, you’ll both be dead, and I’ll deliver a sob story about how you forced me to confess to a crime I didn’t commit seconds after forcing her to sing the words you wrote while on a three-day bender.” He tosses my songbook onto the ground. It falls open on a page that shows Laken’s handwriting has been traced on repeat.
“Are you sure about that?”
When Knox’s eyes shoot to Laken, who is pulling up the hem of his trousers to show his ankle is without the tracking accessory it’s been wearing the past week, Laken uses the distraction to his advantage.
He races for me so fast the grunt he releases when he pushes off his feet almost drowns out the noise of a bullet being dislodged from a gun.
With one of his hands protecting the back of my head and the other bracing to take the impact of our fall, Laken tackles me to the ground just as the rooftop is filled with shouting voices and clomping feet.
“Get down!”
“Place your hands behind your back.”
