AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Bryce was obsessed with Kara,” Matt continued, “but he also was a seasoned investigator. He saw something, maybe just that you had cleaned up after Zarian. Or that you lied about the case. You couldn’t have Bryce looking at you or your friends, digging for crimes that you’d spent years covering up. You had motive to want him gone, and better, you had Kara’s gun. We know you tracked her through her FBI phone. She was at the dog park, so that’s where you sent Thornton. It was just lucky for you that she broke her phone there, suspecting someone had tracked her to Colton Fox’s house. You sent Bryce there, and you killed him.”
Rebecca didn’t say anything, sat frozen, not looking at either of them. Brian moved to sit next to her. “Do you want your family to go through this? The investigation? The trial? The rumors?”
“What?” she said. “No. My family has nothing to do with this. Leave my family alone!”
“We’re going to try this in the press,” Matt said bluntly. “Everything we know, what we can prove and disprove, will be leaked to the press. In a case like this—with so much money lost through graft and corruption—the way to win is to turn the public tide against the people involved. The press conference was brilliant and stupid at the same time. Because we have the files. We have everything. We know your son is on all the paperwork. That he coordinated every single grant, funneling it to friends and family. He will go to prison.”
“No,” she gasped. “No. He didn’t know. He didn’t know!”
Jonathan Avila stepped into the living room with a young blonde woman that it took Matt a moment to recognize.
His wife. Dorothy Duncan’s daughter, Annabelle.
Annabelle was very pregnant. She had been crying, but stood tall holding her husband’s hand tightly.
“I need a lawyer to draft up an ironclad agreement because I will not talk if I go to jail.” He looked at his mother, but his words were for Matt. “I knew. I chose to look the other way. I can give you everyone—Lydia, Dorothy, Theodore, Krista. They can all rot in hell for all I care. But, Mom.” His face softened as he directed his words to Rebecca. “Mom. This is murder. I never signed on for murder. I didn’t think you had, either.”
Rebecca began to sob. “I killed Bryce. Please, please forgive me.”
44
I woke up Friday with a job to do and the excitement to do it. It wasn’t until the end of the day that I realized it was my mother’s birthday. She would have been fifty-five today.
I left FBI headquarters with the promise to return Monday and help put together the final reports. They wanted me to give another statement, and then return to show the cybercrimes division how I figured out what the hacker had done to the system. They said they would pay me a stipend for my time. I agreed, even though I would do it for free. I realized that no matter how nervous and worried I was about other people, when I talked to my fellow nerds I felt a lot more comfortable.
Maybe I was making progress. Maybe I was growing up.
I didn’t have a job anymore, but the mayor gave me six months’ severance. I could have kept my job, could have fought for it, but I didn’t want to. The money would help while I found something else. I wasn’t worried. As Michael Harris told me, I was smart and resourceful. I believed it, maybe for the first time in my life.
I had my mother’s remains cremated, but then I paid for a small space at a cemetery in Burbank. They had a wall of sealed urns and hers was second from the top, four from the right. I sat on a bench and didn’t know what to say. To her. Or to myself.
My phone rang, and I almost didn’t answer—it seemed wrong to answer a phone in a cemetery. But I did because it was Will, and we hadn’t really talked since yesterday morning.
“Hi,” I said quietly.
“Where are you?”
“Visiting my mother.”
“Can we meet?”
“Now?”
“Can you?” He sounded hopeful.
“Okay, sure. Where?”
I met Will at a pub near my house. I came here sometimes because it was comfortable and the bartender was nice and I didn’t feel awkward sitting alone. Will was there already. He was drinking a beer; I ordered one, too.
“Amy and Ian are going to interview me on their podcast on Monday,” Will said.
“That’s good. You’ll do great.” He would. Will was very smart and articulate. He would be able to explain what happened so that the average person could understand. Better, he was an advocate for changing the system. How the government dealt with the homeless crisis wasn’t working. Will knew how it could work.
“I appreciate your confidence,” Will said with a grin. “I spent all afternoon with the mayor. Literally, three hours with the man who never has meetings longer than five minutes.”
“He must like you.”
Will laughed. “I don’t think so but he doesn’t hate me, which is a start. He wasn’t involved in all this, and if he was, he’s hiding it very well. He might lose his election, but I don’t care. I’m getting it in writing.”
