Landry flinches as if Sandra’s words physically pain her. “You knew what he did to her?”
“I overheard him talking to one of his men about the toxicology report.” She sighs. “I recorded the conversation as best I could.”
“But never did anything with it,” Landry clarifies. “You let us rot under his brutal thumb knowing you had actual evidence to get us out.”
The betrayal cuts her deep. I can tell by the way she trembles and her voice shakes. Sparrow materializes behind us, his strong presence joining with mine like a forcefield keeping this toxic woman out of our girl’s space.
“I was afraid,” Sandra admits. “Your father is, er, was a terribly powerful man. I needed more. Through the years, I collected what I could all with the intent of bringing it to the police one day.”
“One day,” Landry echoes.
“It never seemed like it was enough.” Sandra shoots Landry a pleading look. “To bury a man like Alexander Croft, you need a smoking gun.”
“He hurt me,” Landry whispers. “Over and over again. You knew it. You could have tried. Even if it wasn’t enough, it could have been enough to get us out of there. You were afraid, well, I was too.”
“I’m sorry, Landry. I truly am. Forgive me.”
Landry bristles, not at all eager to forgive this woman. “So that’s it? You’re delivering your proof now that he’s dead and can’t hurt you? You’re welcome. We took care of the problem on our own.”
Sparrow clutches the back of Landry’s neck, warning her of speaking too much truth. Scout would be pissed if she unravels everything he did to protect her.
“What will happen to Della?” Sandra asks.
“I’ve been awarded full custody.” Landry straightens her spine. “You knew Dad wasn’t her biological father, didn’t you?”
Sandra nods. “I’m so very sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t erase years of abuse, Sandra. It just makes you feel better.” She motions toward the woman. “Does it? Do you feel better now? Is that what this is about? Absolving your guilt? Because if so, consider yourself officially let off the hook.”
“No,” Sandra cuts in. “I want to be of assistance during the trial. I know they’re saying Mr. Mannford was a monster who murdered your father, but I do believe it was defending you. I think the USB drive will have enough proof to attest to that. Plus, I am willing to go on the witness stand and testify against your father’s wrongdoings.”
Landry stills. “You’re serious? You’ll help us get Scout out of jail?”
“I just want what’s best for you two girls. I’ve been a coward, but the man is gone. He can’t hurt you anymore and I don’t have a reason to be afraid of him. If this brings closure and gives you girls the happy ending you rightfully deserve, I want to help. I will help.”
“All right, then,” Landry murmurs. “I’ll have our attorneys be in touch.”
Sandra rushes forward and takes Landry’s face in her palms. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I loved you girls. I still do. I wish nothing but the best for you both. Please find a way to forgive me one day.”
“Maybe one day,” Landry allows. “Goodbye, Sandra.”
Sandra kisses Landry on the forehead and then turns on her heel, floating away like the creepy ghost-like lady she is. When she’s gone, having disappeared into the elevator, we go back into the apartment.
“I should look at this alone,” Landry says, holding up the drive. “It’s probably…” Her chin quivers. “Probably horrible whatever it is.”
Sparrow captures her jaw with his massive hand and he kisses her pouty lips. “You don’t have to ever be alone again, baby. You’re ours. We’ll handle everything together.”
Relief floods through her and she relaxes. “Okay.”
I take the USB drive from her, walking down the hallway to my room. I grab my laptop and sit on the bed. She and Sparrow sit on either side of me. It’s quiet as I plug it in and open the files.
So. Many. Files.
There are recordings of conversations, all neatly labeled. There are pictures and videos. Both Della and Landry each have their own folders. I don’t even want to touch Della’s folder because I’m afraid of what’s in there. I end up clicking on Landry’s instead. It’s no better than my worst fears. She’s just a kid in some of the pictures, bruised and beaten.
Endless pictures of her throughout the years with black eyes and bloody lips. It’s so fucking sad and horrible. The room is deadly quiet as I scroll through each picture until I come to one in particular.
Landry stares at the wall, disconnected completely. She has bruises on her neck, but it’s her expression that’s so haunting. As if she’s gone through the worst thing in her life and her life is no longer worth living.
The next picture is of bloody sheets.