Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Although everything fell into sharp focus, all I could think was that it didn’t smell. The bodies didn’t smell. They’d been there too long, and the air had circulated. Although we couldn’t see any bones, I imagined that was all we’d find beneath the concrete, aside from the clothing. I looked up to see Paige, her eyes fixed on that scrap of fabric, hollowed with anguish. We’d had an idea of what we might find, but the reality of it was something else. Our eyes met, the pain in hers a twin to my own.
Hawk’s phone beeped. He lifted it up, listened, and said, “Escort them to the garage.” Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he looked to us. “This may clear things up.”
Griffen straightened, stepping out of the hole. I joined him, circling around to stand next to Paige. I reached for her hand, needing the anchor. Needing her.
“I think we’d better call West—” I started.
I heard Edgar before I saw him. “You’re not calling Weston—”
“Edgar, what are you doing here?” Hope asked.
“I was trying to stop you,” he said gruffly, shaking his head as his eyes fell on the hole in the concrete.
Harvey came around the corner, followed by Eli, Wren, and Ryder. Harvey walked to the edge of the pit in the garage floor, his face sheet-white, shaking his head back and forth. Ryder raised an eyebrow at Hawk and Griffen, who lifted their chins in response. Ryder nodded, tapped Wren on the shoulder, and the two of them left, Eli staying behind.
It seemed clear to me that while we might be comfortable with Edgar and Harvey, our new security team didn’t trust them as far as they could throw them.
“Edgar,” Griffen began, “I appreciate your loyalty to my father and the past, but I think we all know what this looks like. We have to call West.”
“You can’t,” Edgar said.
“Prentice is dead,” I reminded him, “but we’re still here. It looks like we have two bodies buried—”
Edgar cut me off. “You don’t know what you have—”
“Well, then tell us,” Paige said, her words clipped, “since you seem to know.”
“They have a right to the truth,” Harvey said, his voice shattered, eyes locked on the concrete in the bottom of the hole.
“They don’t have the right to anything.” Edgar turned to glare at Harvey, his jaw set in a familiar stubborn line. “We don’t need to get into this. It’s ancient history. They should fill it back in with all this gravel and cover it up. You don’t know what you’re doing, Harvey.”
“I do,” Harvey said, his eyes blazing as he turned to Edgar. “I fucking well do, and I’m tired of keeping his secrets.”
“Harvey, you can’t,” Edgar said, reaching for his arm.
Harvey batted him away. “It’s over, Edgar. It’s time. You can go if you need to. I’m telling them the truth.”
“Truth is a child’s concept,” Edgar said, impatient. “And this is nothing but melodrama. Just let it go. We’ll get the floor fixed up and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”
Hope turned icy eyes on her uncle. “Shut. Up,” she snapped out. “We’re moving on, all of us. We’re not living like that anymore. Your secrets and lies, Prentice’s manipulations—it’s over, do you understand?” She turned to Harvey. “Tell us— What don’t we know?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
FORD
Edgar glowered at us all but didn’t move to leave. Harvey crossed his arms over his chest as if hugging himself and shook his head in a slow, sad swing.
“I didn’t know,” he began. “You have to understand—I didn’t know. Not until Prentice— I’m so sorry, boys. Paige.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, his eyes locked on the concrete at the bottom of the hole. “It’s Sarah buried down there. Sarah and Paul Williams.”
A whimper came from Paige’s throat. She covered her mouth with her hand to stop the pained sound. I slid an arm around her, holding her close—not sure if I was supporting her or using her to hold myself up as my knees turned to water. My eyes dropped to the misshapen lumps of concrete. They looked like bodies, sure, but there were no features, no distinct limbs visible. They could have been tree branches, or a weird arrangement of trash with concrete dumped on top. But Harvey said no. That was my mother under there. Paige’s father.
“How? How could— I don’t—” I couldn’t get the words out.
“Harvey,” Griffen growled, his voice rough and abrupt, “you’d better keep talking.”
“I went to Prentice,” Harvey said, his eyes closed as if shutting out the present so he could see the past. “The day he died. There was a trust Sarah left you boys. They’d put it together when Ford was born. It was long past the time it should have been released to you, but we needed Sarah’s signature. I’d always thought Prentice knew where she’d gone, but he laughed and said he’d forgotten about it. He’d have her declared dead—then we wouldn’t need her to sign.”