“Honestly? The fact that he was gonna torpedo a slam-dunk drug bust seemed more strange. I mean, the defendant was guilty, there’s no two ways about it. And once your dad testified, his career in the APD would be as good as done and my guy might actually get out, and go on sellin’ drugs. Wilkes knew that. I couldn’t figure out why he’d do it.”
“You mean other than being an honest cop who wanted to do the right thing?”
“Well, yeah, sure . . . I guess. But that wasn’t the case here.” I glare at him and he quickly adds, “It was pretty obvious that your dad was doin’ one of his drug connections a favor. A retaliatory thing. That’s how all those gangs work.”
“Pretty obvious? Do you argue your court cases on ‘pretty obvious’?” I bite back the sharpness in my tone. I can’t blame Maxwell for thinking that my dad was lying to him. Why shouldn’t he think that? Someone went out of his way to make my dad look like the criminal.
And it sounds like there was one cop who stood to benefit from that.
Maxwell slaps the table once as he stands. “Well! These criminals aren’t gonna put themselves behind bars.”
“What happened to that drug dealer, anyway?”
Maxwell lets out a disgusted snort. “Oh, that idiot went to jail. There was no getting around a trunk full of drugs. ’Course, I threatened the prosecutor with leaking the story to the press. I mean, it’d never stick, but if the public heard that the cops walked away with a hundred grand in drug money, it’d sure tarnish our police department’s shiny reputation.”
I let out a mock whistle, even as dots keep connecting before my eyes. “A hundred grand?”
“Just shy of it, if I recall correctly. Anyway, it was a dirty trick on my part, but Silas fell for it.”
“Wait . . . Silas?”
“Yes, ma’am. He was the prosecutor. And he was so impressed with my bluffing game that he offered me this job. Which is good, ’cause I’m better off putting the guilty guys away than I am letting them go free. Worked out for everyone.”
For everyone but my father. I struggle to keep my voice even. “Did you tell Silas about this video?”
He chuckles. “Not straightaway. You don’t show your whole bag of tricks off the bat. I went in with ‘irrefutable evidence.’?” He uses his fingers to air-quote. “Not until he agreed to knock off five years did I fess up about your dad claiming to have video proof of the defendant’s claims.”
My gaze wanders down the hall, toward where I know Noah and his uncle sit behind closed doors. Is Silas admitting all of this to him? Is he telling him that he knew about both the drug bust and the video?
And if Silas knew, why didn’t he do anything about it?
“So this drug dealer . . . he’s still in prison?” I need to talk to him.
“Nah, he ended up getting knifed to death by a rival gang inside a few years in.” Maxwell is so casual about it. “Some turf war. As far as I see it, he got what he deserved.”
And his stolen cash ended up going to a poor girl from a Tucson trailer park, it would seem.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Jackie Marshall knew where that money came from, and if my dad died because of that bag of money, I could see how she’d want it to go to us, as some twisted form of compensation.
But it doesn’t explain why she had the money in the first place.
Noah appears from around the corner then. Just in time. Maxwell has confirmed everything, and then some. “Hey.” His blue eyes drift over me on their way to Maxwell and I catch the heaviness of his thoughts in that gaze. “Thanks for keeping Gracie company.”
“You kidding? She’s a doll.”
I roll my eyes.
Maxwell turns to leave, and then stops. “Wait . . . You needed to talk to me about something?”
“He’ll have to catch up with you later. We have an appointment,” I answer for Noah, earning his wary glance. If Noah follows up asking the same questions I just did, Maxwell will see our conversation in an entirely different light. It’s better he thinks my dad was covering for the competition. For now.
“Well, now, y’all enjoy Austin while you’re here. And do me a favor.” He drops a heavy hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Be gentle on this guy. He’s a good one.” With a wink my way, Maxwell strolls down the hall, whistling the entire way.
“Gracie . . .”
I gather my things. “Just think, you wanted to leave me at home with Cyclops.”
“What did you tell Maxwell?” There’s a warning in his tone.
“I told him nothing. He told me everything.” I quietly fill him in.
Noah heaves a sigh. One of relief. He was afraid of what role the boisterous lawyer might have played in my father’s death. Just like he’s afraid of what role his mother might have played.
In Maxwell’s case, though, the only thing he’s guilty of is buying the setup.
“So, what did your uncle say?”
He shakes his head. “He needs time to sort through everything and decide the best way to proceed. Basically, he said that knowing something and proving it are two different things.”
“So he admitted that he knew about it?”
Noah frowns. “About what?”
“About how my dad had video evidence of Mantis stealing money at that drug bust.”
“No, he . . . he had no idea.” His frown grows deeper. “Why would you think that?”
I study Noah intently, searching for hints that he’s covering for his uncle. A downward cast, fidgeting, switching topics quickly . . . Noah’s a terrible liar and, now that I’m getting to know him, I’m easily able to spot when he’s lying or hiding things. After all, I’ve had plenty of practice over the last few days.
But in those pretty blue eyes, I see only confusion.
Silas didn’t tell him that he already knew.
The question is, why?
CHAPTER 34
Noah
“But it’s good, right? That Betsy didn’t turn up in that database?”
“I guess. It means she hasn’t been arrested for anything.”
“So what can we find out here?” Gracie’s shrewd green eyes scan the stark white interior of the Texas State Health Services office as we wait our turn. Thankfully it was quiet today, with only three people ahead of us in line, paperwork clutched within their grasps.
“Any certificates filed with her name and date of birth. Marriage, a childbirth . . . death.”
Gracie’s jaw tightens over that last word. It’s the only sign that she’s at all perturbed. She’s preparing herself for that possibility. Or, maybe at this point, inevitability.
So am I. But searching for Gracie’s aunt is helping to keep my mind off other pressing issues.
Namely, why would Silas lie to me about the video and that drug bust?
But did he really lie? I’ve been playing the conversation over in my head. He never said he wasn’t aware of the bust or the video. I assumed he wasn’t. There must be some explanation for it.
Still . . . I saw the look on Gracie’s face when she told me and, in her mind, Silas’s name has been added to a long list of people who screwed over Abraham, people she doesn’t trust.
The clerk waves me up.
“Do me a favor and hang back,” I whisper to Gracie and then head for the counter, plastering on a fake smile. “How’s my favorite Health Services employee?”
Chelsea’s hazel eyes are filled with sympathy. “Hey, Noah. How are you doin’?” she asks in that soft Southern twang.
I shrug. “You know . . .”
She takes in my T-shirt. I’m usually in a button-down and tie when I come down here. “You back to work?”
“Still easing in.”
Her gaze flickers over my shoulder and hardens slightly. “Can I help you?”
“I’m with him.” Gracie’s voice carries that typical cool, indifferent tone.
I stifle my groan. Chelsea has never been subtle about her interest in me. She isn’t my type, but she’s sweet, and having a clerk here who will rush my requests has made me a god among my coworkers. Bringing another girl here—especially one that looks like Gracie—was a dumb move on my part. Not that Gracie gave me much choice.
“This is my cousin,” I lie. “She’s visiting from out of town.”
“Oh! Cousin. Of course.” Chelsea tucks a strand of golden-brown hair behind her ear, the relief on her face unmistakable.
“Fourth cousin, twice removed. We could legally marry.” Gracie ropes her arm around my back, sending my blood racing.