“Sounds like a smart man.”
“He was.” Davis swallowed, gaining control over his voice. “When I was 16, he opened the residential program. He took in boys from all over Glory City, trying to make a better life for them. He had a gift for choosing the right kid for the program.”
“Kind of like you.”
He shrugged. “Every kid is a risk. There’s always a level of wildness about them. Can we really tame the streets out of them? He thought so.”
“Do you?”
He bit his bottom lip. “I’m not sure. I’ve made mistakes before. Like Antonio. My father made mistakes, too. The first boy we took in, he and I were like brothers. My father trained and educated us together. We fought and squabbled like family, too, vying for my father’s attention. Even after new boys came into the program, he and I were the big shots. That’s how we ended up doing the competitive fighting. Dad needed a way to contain our energy and aggressiveness toward one another. So he started these trials, pitting us against one another. Using the rules of the games kept us under control.”
“Again, he sounds like a smart man.”
Davis rubbed his face with his hands. “He didn’t anticipate our rivalry, though. Over the years, our anger only grew with one another. My brother and I fought over girls, school, work … anything. But the last fight. It was the worst. So dumb, but so bad.”
“What happened?”
He shook his head. “The fight doesn’t matter. It ended with my father dead.”
Ari recoiled. “You killed him?”
“No! No, of course not.” He brushed back the strands of hair that constantly fell in Ari’s face. “My brother and I were in the ring. Prepared to fight to the end this time. To the death. Seriously. I wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill me.”
“That sounds crazy.”
“We were crazy. My father knew our rivalry and egos had escalated too far. When the fight got too rough he stepped in between us to stop it. Right when my brother leveled a massive punch at me. His fist slammed into my father’s skull and that was it. He never woke up.”
“Oh, Davis.”
“This,” he pointed to the gash through his eyebrow. “Is the scar I took away from that fight.” He lifted up his shirt and pointed to another one on his side, thick and gnarled. “This came from the last time I saw him. When he tried to take the GYC from me. Claiming he had as much right to it as I did.”
“He wants the youth center? All of it?”
“He thinks he has rightful ownership of it. We’re not blood—he has no legal legs to stand on.”
Ari tried to process the story she’d just heard. “Where is he now?”
Davis laughed darkly. “That’s the interesting question, Ari. He was tried as a juvenile for killing my father, so he was released after four years, when he was twenty-one. We had an altercation then,” he touches the scar on his stomach. “We agreed then he could live his life and I would live mine—just keeping our distance and peace.”
“Has it worked?” Something about the expression on Davis’ face told Ari it hadn’t.
“I thought so. I hadn’t seen him in years. He disappeared. Until last night. Until I saw that man kill Oscar.”
“What?” she asked. “Last night?”
“My brother executed Oscar last night. His death was a message for me.”
Ari couldn’t hide her shock. “Your brother is the Vigilante?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then what are you saying?” A million questions ran through her mind.
“That was not the Vigilante last night. It was an imposter. That was Reg, attempting to wipe away all the good he’s done. Trying to hurt me.”
“But …” Ari didn’t even know where to begin. “How do you know?”
“Ari, I loved and fought with my brother for years. We had the same teacher. It was him.”
What was Davis saying to her? Or not saying? “Are you going to call the police? Turn him in?”
“I haven’t decided how to handle it yet, but promise me one thing.”
She nodded hesitantly. “Sure.”
“From now on, I need you to trust me. Completely. If he hurt Oscar he could hurt you, too.”
***
“You’re kidding,” Ari said to Detective Bryson. He’d called right as she left the GYC.
“No,” he said. “I hate to be the bearer of this bad news, but somehow Jace Watkins got out on bail.”
“Why would they do that? And without telling me?”
“I can’t explain it either, Ari. Seems like he got himself a new lawyer and managed to get a new hearing set. The bail was high, though, $20,000. I doubt the judge thought he would make it.”
“Who paid it then? Because I can’t see Jace having a spare $20,000 dollars around, either.”