And Mallory must have agreed, because she wasted no time with baiting him, she just reached into her messenger bag and pulled out the charred remains of my father’s laptop that she and Logan had found last year.
My heart immediately accelerated to a gallop, but I held a steady expression.
Mallory sat the laptop gently on the desk between her and her father, and instantly, the color drained from his face.
Noah smiled beside me, and I had to fight to keep that same smirk from showing up on my face, too.
We got you, you bastard.
“So,” Mallory began. “As you know, you and Uncle Mac thought it would be hilarious punishment for me and Logan to clean out the old storage closet last year. And, oh, Dad…” she said, shaking her head. “I’m a little disappointed in you, that you didn’t think about what could be hiding in those old, dusty bins and boxes — especially when you had something this big to hide.”
Patrick’s eyes were wide, and I could see him searching the corners of his mind for a reasonable excuse.
When he finally tore his gaze away from the laptop and looked at Mallory, it was with feigned ignorance. “What is this piece of junk?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Logan said. “It’s my father’s laptop — or, what’s left of it. We found it along with a box of his belongings. Funny,” he said, tonguing his cheek. “You told my mother that the box you gave her was everything you had of his.”
Patrick scoffed. “So, you found this and took it without telling anyone?” He shook his head, reaching for the cord phone on his desk that I wanted to roll my eyes at because it felt like a prop in an old sixties’ movie that he’d wanted in his office just for show. “That’s stealing. I’m calling the cops.”
“You might want to hear us out before you get law enforcement involved,” Mallory said, placing a hand over her dad’s on the receiver. “Unless you want to be in handcuffs.”
“Me in handcuffs?” Patrick repeated, laughing incredulously.
“You murdered our father,” I said.
For the first time since we entered that office, Patrick Scooter looked at me — really looked at me.
“You killed him. And we demand to know why.”
Patrick opened his mouth, ready to deny it by the looks of his features — as if he pitied me — but Noah stopped him.
“We were able to recover the hard drive in the laptop,” he said. “And we broke into that, too.”
“Great,” Patrick said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Even more evidence to slap you with in court. That’s confidential information.”
“Oh, we agree,” I said. “In fact, I’d say the journal my father kept at work was extremely confidential — especially after what we found written inside it.”
Patrick’s face went white, and I took notice of the slight tremble in his hands as he folded them over his stomach again, leaning back in his chair. He was pretending like he knew about the journal, like we had nothing on him, like he was still in control.
But his body was betraying his façade.
“You know, I remember when your father died,” I said. “I was young, but I remember. And even though I didn’t quite understand what a Will was, I knew it must have been a big deal, because this entire town was shaken up that your father didn’t have one.” I paused. “But he did have one. Didn’t he?”
Patrick’s lips were sealed together, and he watched me — emotionless.
“Yeah… see, it seems my father found that Will when he was cleaning out your father’s old office. But,” I said, smiling as I pointed at him. “You already knew that, too, didn’t you? Because my father told you he found it.”
Patrick shifted in his chair, eyeing the phone like he would reach for it at any second to make a magic phone call to save his ass.
But it was too late for that now.
“He also told you that he read it,” I continued. “And that in that Will, your father left half of the company to… well, I don’t need to finish that sentence, do I? Should I let you tell us what was said in that Will?”
Patrick stood abruptly, slamming his fists on the table as he shook with anger, his face red, eyes bulging where he leaned over the desk and pointed at me. “You don’t have shit, little boy — and that’s what you are. You’re nothing but a scared little boy messing around in matters you don’t understand.”
“We have our dad’s journal,” Logan reminded him. “And his last entry says that you asked him to meet you in your father’s old office. After business hours. After the board meeting.” Logan sat calmly looking up at him. “And in case you forgot, that was where he died.”