“Still, you saw the look in his eyes. That meant something—the way he said it.” I growled under my breath. “I wish Dad’s letter would have at least told us who her mother was—that would have been something to go on.”
“Yeah.” Mauro nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. I mean, I was young—but Dad had a few women that he called friends—I just can’t remember their names.”
“At this rate, the SEC might figure this shit out before we do.” I dropped back down on the bench and stared at the ceiling. “By then it’ll be too late to salvage the company.”
We got more bad news when Fisk was able to come see us again. The judge wasn’t just keeping us in jail because of the assault, he had consulted with the SEC and determined we were a flight risk. He also let us know that charges were coming, and they were trying to throw the book at us. We might not have known about the deal Wyatt made to funnel money to our sister, but they were still going to try and stick us with the charges—vicariously since they couldn’t very well put Wyatt in a cell beside us. If the court of public opinion mattered much, we were already fucked. We were criminals in their eyes—just another couple of suits that screwed over our investors because we were greedy.
The SEC had been able to follow the paper trail on the money Wyatt was embezzling with his creative accounting designed to pay off our sister. Unfortunately, that money went to a bank in the Caribbean and the SEC wasn’t the type to play dirty and bribe people to find out where the money went after that—not like I had been able to do when I tracked down Lizzy. Fisk said he was going to work on it and get in touch with some of the guys I did business with, but I doubted they were going to talk to one of our attorneys. They weren’t the kind of guys that did business in the daylight or across the table in a boardroom.
A couple of days passed with no news and then Fisk returned to let us know that his investigators were still coming up with nothing—that wasn’t even worth a visit. The worst part of it all was knowing that Weber was out there—turning the narrative in his favor. He painted himself as a victim who uncovered our scheme when he started investigating some of the companies that he had recently acquired. He claimed that our sister was a victim as well—being blackmailed and paid off to stay silent because she feared for her life. She was a sympathetic victim, despite the fact, nobody had actually seen her face. The media kept saying that she declined to make a statement—a good way to cover up the fact they didn’t even know how to get in contact with her.
“It all comes down to this.” I looked over at Mauro. “Something changed a year ago—something that cost Wyatt his life.”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve been locked in here long enough to dive into another one of your delusions.” Mauro sat up and shook his head. “Wyatt killed himself. Plain and simple. He was probably overcome with guilt—he had to have known Weber would figure this shit out once he bought those shell companies.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain how Weber was able to acquire them. If those companies were set up to pay off Hannah—or whatever her name is—why would she sell them? That doesn’t make any sense…” I stared at the floor. “We need to get out of here. We should be out there—figuring this shit out.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Mauro exhaled sharply.
Yeah—unfortunately, I think he’s right.
Present day
“Reynard, you have a visitor.” The guard walked up to my cell.
“If it’s our lawyer, Mauro can handle it.” I motioned to my brother.
“No, they requested you—and I don’t think she’s a lawyer.” The guard unlocked my cell and held out the handcuffs.
She?
The guard led me down the long hallway to the visitor’s center. I had no idea who would be visiting me—unless it was Hannah. I wondered if she had finally decided to show her face and gloat in our misery. I certainly wasn’t expecting to see the face staring back at me from the other side of the glass. I wasn’t expecting Lizzy. She looked beautiful—a sight for very sore eyes. She motioned to the phone and I was scared to pick it up at first. I didn’t know what she would say, or why she was there. There was a part of me that feared she was just there to look at me from the other side of a cage—to see me trapped like she once was—and possibly to tell me that she was going to punish me for what I did to her by going to the authorities.
“Hey…” I picked up the phone and stared at her through the glass. “What are you doing here?”
“I need your help.” Her eyes narrowed.
“My help?” I blinked in surprise. “I offered it, but you left the check—I don’t think it’s any good now.”
“No, I don’t need that kind of help. I need Wyatt’s laptop.” She nodded and used her shoulder to hold the phone against her ear.
“I wiped everything off of it about you—if that’s what you’re worried about. I also burned all of the paperwork before I left the house.” I exhaled sharply. “Even the contract.”
“I assume this phone is bugged.” Her face twisted into a concerned expression. “Do you remember why we met? Not how—why.”
“Um, yes.” I nodded, not really sure how it was going.
“And where I spent most of my time after we met?” She raised her eyebrows slightly.
“Yes…” I nodded again.
“Why I was there?” She pursed her lips.
“Okay, just say it. I’m not good with fucking riddles.” I shook my head back and forth.
“If you remember why we met, where I spent most of my time and why I was there, then you know what I’m good at—and if I had Wyatt’s laptop—I might be able to help you.” Her eyes were practically pleading for me to pick up on the hint.
Of course—she tracks people down—she digs into their lives. But why is she offering to help me? After all, I did to her…