Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
She keeps pointing at people. “This is Fintan Discoll. He’s still around, actually. He worked for your parents for years. A good mechanic these days. An even better car thief back then.”
“Why did my parents work with a car thief? What do you mean, they had secrets?”
“This one’s Grigori Zharkov. Your mom used to complain bitterly about him. Real asshole. But high up in the Zharkov Bratva. They were killed off during an ugly war eight years ago, and most of the survivors disappeared to Russia, or at least that’s what I heard. Who knows. I think there are maybe five more dead people in this photo, excluding your parents, and all of them met a violent end.”
I push the photo book away, staring at her. Anger rushes through me. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Your parents were connected in ways I never told you about. I knew you’d have to hear the truth about them sooner or later, but I hoped it would be under better circumstances. Now though…” She trails off with a bitter sigh and stares at the picture like she’s lost in memory.
“Sheila. Please. What are you talking about? My parents were connected, how?”
“They ran an organization. Some people would call it a crime family, but it was more like a gang. Your father, Joshua Brennan, was the boss. Your mother, Maeve, was his second-in-command. Those two were a real terror back in the day.”
My heart’s racing. Sweat dribbles down my back. “My parents were criminals?”
“Don’t ask me exactly what they were up to. I barely talked to my sister when she was alive, and I hated that husband of hers.” Her nose wrinkles. “He was the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”
“I thought you liked my parents.”
“I loved my sister. I tolerated her husband. But there’s a lot you don’t know, Casey.”
I rub my face with both hands and leap to my feet. “Please stop. I can’t handle a history lesson right now.”
“I wish I could.” Sheila sighs and moves her glasses up into her hair again. “But Declan told me it’s time you heard some of this.”
“Declan? What’s he got to do with my parents? How do you know him, Sheila?”
She stares at me, her face quiet and still. I know that look well. She’s trying to remain calm as I start to spiral. It’s the way she used to watch me when I was an emotional teenager losing my mind over something stupid.
“You were told that your parents died in an accident. That’s only partially true.”
I stop moving. My mouth opens in outrage, but I’m so upset and shaking that I can’t make any noise. Instead, I grip the back of a chair.
Sheila nudges my coffee toward me. “Take a sip.”
I do it, even though I don’t want to. Getting something warm in my stomach helps.
“What really happened to my parents, Sheila?”
She holds my gaze, unflinching and hard.
“They were killed.”
I take a step back. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was. The story about the car accident is somewhat true. They were murdered in their car. Riddled with bullets and burned to a crisp.”
“Stop it.”
“Their killer was never found, but he’s been presumed dead for years. I don’t know the details of exactly what happened between them, and I never wanted to ask. But Declan found this last night at Natalie’s apartment.”
Sheila pushes a piece of paper across the table toward me.
My hand is shaking. I stare down at the note.
My name’s written in very neat, perfectly formed letters.
“What the hell is that?”
“Declan believes Natalie’s killer left it.”
“Why does it have my name?”
“Open it, please.”
I don’t move. I’m trembling all over. Natalie was murdered. My parents were gangsters, and they were murdered too.
Now there’s a note with my name on it, and the killer left it at a crime scene.
“I don’t want to,” I whisper.
“Be strong, Casey. We’re nearly at the point. Please, open it.”
Slowly, I reach down and unfold the page. Inside is a message, written in that same handwriting.
I read it out loud. “The past is never dead. Senesi.” I look up at Sheila. “Who the hell is Senesi and what does this mean?”
She fumbles with her glasses again. “We believe Vincenzo Senesi is the man who killed your parents. And now Declan is afraid he’s back.”
I sink down into my chair. I stare at the note, totally numb. “I didn’t see this.”
“You were in shock last night. I doubt you noticed much.”
She’s got a point. The memory of Natalie’s apartment is already a blur.
“You’re telling me… this really was my fault?”
Sheila reaches out. She grabs my hand fiercely. “Absolutely not. That is not what anyone is saying, and don’t you dare start thinking it. You’re completely innocent in all this. You’re a victim too, Casey.”
“I’m not dead though. Natalie’s the one who got murdered.”