My phone buzzes again, and as much as I don’t want to look, I force myself to. Life isn’t about me or my ego anymore. It’s about Reagan, and every second counts.
“It’s Rich.” I flash the phone to Allison. “He’s downstairs.”
Allison scoops up the plate of food and the chocolate milk and begins to walk out the door. “I’ll be back, Ota. Just a few questions and you can eat as much as you like!” She tries to keep it friendly, but it comes out deranged instead.
“I’ll be right back, kiddo.” I give her a quick pat to the head. “Go ahead and color.”
Her tiny hand reaches out and grips me over the wrist. Her bony fingers press into my flesh quick and hard as pliers and I pull back, stunned.
“You’re strong.” I get up and make my way to the door. “And I know you’re hungry. You will eat.” I give a little nod of assurance as I make my way downstairs.
She will eat as soon as we get some damn answers.
* * *
Rich sits twiddling his thumbs with Allison while asking questions about her mother’s campaign.
“As much as I didn’t care for her delivery, she’s been diligent about changing the posters,” Rich blinks a wry smile. “Her crew has plastered a new set around town, bigger with a larger, far more eligible font.”
“All right, enough.” I take a seat across from them. “You’re making yourself look bad. What’s new?” I glance to Allison. We hadn’t discussed how this might go down, but I think it’s best I walk him into it.
“Checking in on you two.” Rich has always been the nicest guy in Concordia. It’s a bonus he’s protecting the streets. “Have you heard from your dad?”
“Yup.” I slap the back of my neck as if my father had turned into a fly and I was swatting the life out of him. Ironic when you think about it.
A bang followed by a thump comes from upstairs and the three of us freeze.
Allison jumps to her feet. “I’d better take care of that.”
“Let me know if you need some help,” I offer, but she’s already at the top of the stairs.
“Is that the old man?” Rich scoots over. There’s a level of concern on his face that got serious quick once Ally took off.
“I’ll get to that in a minute. What’s going on? You look tense.”
He plucks at his collar, his face turning ten shades of persimmon. “I did some research for you after you left.”
“Nice.” I hop over and take the seat next to him. “What did you find out?”
“Wilson did have traces of ethylene glycol in his bloodstream.”
“Old news. What else?”
Rich looks stunned. Old information doesn’t knock you off the pedestal the way his expression demands.
“So did Rachel.”
The world stops for a moment. A searing heat runs through me as a bite of perspiration erupts all over my body.
“Rachel?” Shit. “What in the hell does that mean?”
“Most likely whoever offed Wilson, offed Rachel.”
“Oh my God.” My head drops between my knees as I try to hold it together. “Why?”
“They were disappointments. That’s from my mother, not me.” He raises his hands. “I didn’t say a word about this theory. I simply asked how your dad felt about them. She offered.” He blows out a steady breath. “I want you to know there’s no way to confirm anything solid regarding your old man. At this juncture, it’s all speculation. Same with your mother.”
“So the bastard lives free as a bird and the rest of my family rests in a prison of caskets. How’s that for irony?”
“Terrible.” His chest pumps. “Are you sure you killed Aston?”
My heart seizes. With everything in me I wish to God I hadn’t. “As much as I’d love to blame him, it was me holding the gun.”
“That doesn’t mean a lot. You did mention it was your dad who made sure you cleaned your rifles before you left for your trip.” He ticks his head to the side. “As a seasoned hunter, he should have known you clean the guns after the trip.”
“We were religious about emptying our guns.” Tears blur my vision. “My father handed me that rifle.”
“Don’t look down the barrel.” He gave a hard wink my way, and like a moth to fire I needed to sneak a peek.
Rich taps his foot anxious against the floor. “Between you and your brother Aston, which one do you think your father favored?”
The words from that conversation on my father’s porch come back to me. You’re the moron who should have died that day!
God, it all makes twisted sense.
“It was me he wanted to kill. Only I was going to get to do the honors.” Tears roll down, fast and hot, and I’m quick to wipe them away. “What a revelation.” A dull chuckle escapes me. “I had always wanted to believe that my father treasured me—the lone child, and here he resented me for surviving.”
Rich slaps his hand over my back, warm and comforting, just the way my mother used to. “You are family, James. You’re loved. I’ll follow your lead in this. I know you’ve got more than you can handle on your plate right now, but if you ever want to open a case, make it official, we’ll run with it. I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do.”
“Sounds good.” I sniff back my emotions. “I think we need to let it ride until we find Reagan. God, Reagan.” I plunge my face into my hands.
Rich knocks his knee to mine. “So what is it you’ve got to tell me?”
I glance to the top of the stairs. Not a sound comes from the bedroom. A good thing. I think.
“You are never going to believe this.” I start in on last night, the odd clue my father gave me about Monica. I tell him about the night games Monica and I played, the boxes upon boxes of Price family treasures I stumbled upon. The basement, the little girl’s bed, and the handprint.
“Angel?” Rich inches back a notch. “I don’t know Monica that well, but I seem to remember her parading around town with a kid a few years back. I can look into it.”
“Yes, please do. And if you can score any pictures, that would be great.”
“You don’t think…” Rich stops shy of letting another demon loose in the room.
“She suggested it. She told me the baby we had died. Look, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“That’s pretty wild.”
“Hang on to your hat. It’s about to get wilder.” I fill him in on my brief yet fucked-up history with Hailey, how the move came after the indiscretion, how Reagan got kidnapped on the heels. How this entire unholy series of events could all be traced right back to my boxers. “But that’s not the strangest thing I’ll tell you today.”
“If you tell me you’ve got another kid, I might be moved to call psych services. I’m sensing a running theme and perhaps a transference issue blooming.”
“In fact”—I glance upstairs one more time—“I do have another kid. I have no clue if she’s mine, but right about now, she’s as close as it gets. Ota showed up last night.”
“Who?” He follows my gaze upstairs before his spine straightens. “Oh shit.” He jumps to his feet and I pull him back down. “When were you going to call me? Basic fucking protocol, you call the police.” Those ropes in his neck distend. Gone is the docile cousin I know. “What in God’s name are you doing with her upstairs?”
“Allison’s trying to get information out of her.”
“Is it working?” His eyes bug out wild. In no uncertain terms is Rich unimpressed with our need to retain one-half of the missing duo.
“As long as she holds back those PB and J sandwiches, she’s getting somewhere.”
“You’re starving the kid?” His body lurches once again.
“No.” I hold out my hand like I’m trying to stop a freight train. “We’re getting her to warm up to us. She’s not speaking, but she’s nodding. It’s a start. We just need a little time. Until tomorrow at least.”
“Tomorrow?” His voice swerves, incredulous. “Listen, I can’t keep this under wraps. Child Protective Services finds out and we’re both in trouble. They’ll take my badge. I’ll lose my house. I can’t do this, man.”