Page 34 of Shattered In Darkness

He lets that sit, watching me intently.

I don’t let him bait me. Not visibly. “You think it’s her?”

“Who else?” He’s lazy with it. “You and that Bloom girl were always magnets for disaster. Wouldn’t be the first time she showed up somewhere she didn’t belong.”

He’s pushing every button because he knows what happened the last time. He knows what Lola did to me. Or what I let her do.

I push back. “She has no reason to be there.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But maybe someone sent her.”

Marcus. Marcus. Marcus. The name beats at my skull.

Richard’s voice drops. “Women like her, they’re currency, Brody. You think she’s not working for Marcus? You’re more naïve than I thought.” I want to hit him. Instead, I do what I always do. Stand there and absorb it, let the words burn into the lining of my chest. Richard’s face is blank, only a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You never did learn to pick the right side. That’s your mother in you.”

Fuck that. I shake my head. “What do you want?”

His eyes narrow. “Clean up your own fucking work. Make sure there are no loose ends. I don’t care how you do it.”

He slides the folder across the table. I don’t open it. I know what’s inside. Photos, grainy security grabs, maybe a timeline.

I pick it up. “After tonight?”

“The world doesn’t stop for your misery, Brody.”

I stare at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

A small shrug. “I take pleasure in facts. The fact is, your girl is never going to be clean of this. Not with the family she’s got. Not with the things she knows.” He pauses, then speaks again. “You want to know why your mother died? Why nobody could fix it? Because the people involved made sure there was nothing left to fix. You remember what I told you about the company?”

I do. Night after night. Sitting on the stairs, listening to him sober and cold: There’s a company that arrange things. Accidents, disappearances, clean as a bone. He said they’re untouchable, and they work for Marcus Bloom.

Northline is one of them. The same company that was involved on the night of my mother’s alleged car accident. It was no accident.

Before the accident, everything was fine. Richard and Marcus didn’t cross paths much. There was no feud. I think Richard mentioned that he used to work with Marcus a long time ago. But after? It started a war between them. My dad is convinced that Marcus had something to do with my mother’s death.

When I asked him why he thought that, he said: Because you took something from him. His daughter. This is his payback. Marcus likes to own things, to control things. By dating his daughter, you made it impossible for him to do that. So he intervened. And Lola, that skank, she’s a part of it. She played you, son.

I clutch the folder until the edges bend.

Richard’s eyes flick to my grip. “You’re angry. Good. Use it.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” My voice is coarse. “Who’s the girl in the footage? If it’s not Lola, who is it?”

“Why do you care? Unless that little bitch still has her teeth in you.”

He wants a reaction. He always does. I give it to him. I slam my palm down on the table, rattling the glass and making him blink, just once. “Tell me.”

He doesn’t move. “You want the truth? You can’t handle it. You never could. That’s why she broke you.” There’s a black hole under my ribs, pulling everything in. Richard keeps talking. “She’s involved, Brody. Maybe not directly, but you know how this works. Her father owns those companies. He owns the people who arrange things. The kind of men who send girls as bait, who use them as leverage. If she was there, she was working for someone. You think I’m the big bad wolf? He is the fucking ruler of Hell.”

The words bounce around my skull, setting off old alarms. I remember the day they told me my mother was dead. Car accident, rain-soaked road, tow company there before the police. A NorthLine truck, logo blue and silver in the rain. An accident nobody could explain, but everyone wanted to forget.

A company. A girl in a hood, maybe Lola, maybe not.

I remember her face the last time I saw her. Terrified, bruised, wild with something like shame.

Richard stands up, smoothing his shirt. “You’ll take care of it tonight, or you’ll regret it. I’m not saving you again.”

He’s by the stairs before I can say anything, and then he’s gone. Just the soft tread of his expensive shoes, the closing of his door. I stand there in the stench of his threats and my own rotten hunger, folder in my hands, blood rushing in my veins. Brain full of Lola.