I run to him. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” He slips his hand into his pocket. “I just dropped my phone. That’s all.”
“So you didn’t find anything, either?”
He shakes his head. I frown.
There’s really nothing here.
“I’m sorry, Jodie,” Leo says.
“It’s fine.” I turn my back to him so he doesn’t see the expression of sheer disappointment on my face. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Twelve
Leo
The facade of the building across the street breaks into strips and then vanishes along with a piece of the sky and the sunlight as I close the blinds slowly. Afterwards, I turn around to look at the bed. Jodie is still asleep, snuggled against a pillow with the covers pulled up to her shoulders.
Good.
She wasn’t able to sleep all night, not after we went to that warehouse and came out empty-handed. She was quiet the whole drive back home, and then as soon as we reached the apartment she sat on her bed and started reading her father’s casebook. She was still reading it when I peeked into her room two hours later. The third time I checked, she was staring out the window, at the sky that was starting to get bright. I asked her if she wanted anything then and she shook her head. The eyes that glanced over her shoulder looked about to burst into tears. I wanted to wrap my arms around her so she could cry against my chest but I knew I had no right to comfort her, not when I was keeping something from her.
I take out the broken pen from my pocket. The same black and silver one with the company name and logo that I have on my desk at the office, that nearly every employee carries around.
But this one isn’t mine. It didn’t come from the office. It came from the warehouse. I found it there when I was searching for clues and Jodie was at the other side of the room doing the same.
Why was it there? Whose pen is it?
I slip it back into my pocket and leave the room.
Now that Jodie is finally asleep, I can finally ask the questions that need asking. And this time, I’m not leaving until I get answers.
~
“Tell me the truth,” I demand as I stand in front of my father in the library, my eyes gazing straight into his. “Did you have Bart killed?”
Andrea gasps. “Leo!”
My father raises his hand. “Let him speak.”
“I’ve already asked you my question,” I tell him. “What I need is your answer.”
He sits back. “And if I confess and say yes? What are you going to do? Kill me?”
I look at Andrea, whose eyes gleam dangerously, narrowed in warning, like a wolf with its fangs bared.
A lump forms in my throat even as my hands clench into fists. I never wanted to fight him for real, but I suppose if I’m going to kill my father, I have to go through him first. Frankly, I’m not sure if I can win.
I swallow and turn my gaze back to my father. “No. I’m just going to hand you over to the authorities so you can pay for your crime.”
He nods. “Smart, especially considering I’ve just lost my best lawyer. I’d probably get convicted and sent to jail.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you got rid of your best lawyer.”
He touches his chin. “You’d really turn in your own father?”
I snort. “Don’t test me, and don’t even try to play the pity card.”
“You’d do this for Jodie?”
“Because it’s what’s right,” I tell him.
“I see.” He taps the arm of his chair. “So this is you trying to do a grand good deed so you can stop feeling like you should have died instead of Antonio.”
I grit my teeth. “Don’t you dare bring him into this.”
My father sighs. “Isn’t that why you work harder than you should? Why you built a haven for all those children?”
My eyebrows go up. He knows about that?
“Yes, I know about that sanctuary you put up in the mountains. It’s very noble of you, actually – giving a home to those damaged, helpless, innocent kids who have nowhere else to go.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you threatening me?”
My father scratches his head. “My, my. You always do lose your temper so quickly when things concern the people you care about.”
I clench my jaw and glare at him. Is he making fun of me now? Does he think that will make me back down?
For a moment, our gazes just clash – blue eyes against blue eyes, father against son. Then my father lets out a deep breath.
“No, I didn’t have Bart killed,” he says. “And I would have told you that if you had asked the other day.”
So what? He was just playing around with me, getting me all riled up for nothing? I don’t relax just yet.