“Open another bottle.” Reynard snatched the bottle off my desk. “I’ll call Mom.”
“You don’t think we should make that call together?” I tilted my head to the side.
“And what? Put her on fucking speaker phone so we can tell her Wyatt killed himself?” He waved me off and walked towards the door. “I’ll call her.”
It was probably for the best, although I didn’t like the idea of Reynard telling her that he didn’t believe Wyatt took his own life. It was going to be hard enough for her to process what happened without him filling her head with a theory when he had none of the facts. I poured another drink and bought three tickets to Chicago. I wanted to leave on the next flight. I called Abigail into my office and laid out instructions for the time that we would be gone. Normally, that responsibility would fall to my brother if I was away, and it was going to be the first time I asked one of our Vice Presidents to step up—I hoped they were able to handle the responsibility.
“I’ll take care of everything.” Abigail wiped a tear away from her eye and stood. “Call me if you need anything.”
“We’ll pick up on Mom on the way to the airport.” Reynard stormed back into my office with the bottle in his hand missing half of the liquor it had when he left.
All we could do was arrange for a car and do what had to be done. I was in tears. My mother was bawling. Reynard—well he just had an icy stare on his face—like he was blaming the world for what Wyatt did. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to reason with him. I gave that up long ago. I could either go along with his delusion or find myself grouped in with the people that he laid blame on. That was how he coped with people. He carried a lot of darkness around inside of him as it was, and if he was forced to feel true emotions, he normally handled them by lashing out at those around him.
One month later
“I’ve got something.” Reynard pushed open my door and barged into my office—while I was in the middle of a meeting with one of our clients.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hawthorne. Reynard, I’m in an important meeting right now.” I looked up at my brother, but the determination on his face suggested that he wasn’t leaving.
“I need to talk to you.” He held up a stack of papers.
“It’s okay.” Mr. Hawthorne smiled. “I think we’re done—obviously this is important. I’ll assume it’s about making me more money.”
“Of course—that’s what we do here.” I put a smile on my face and shook his hand before he left.
“I told you he didn’t just kill himself.” Reynard slammed my door as soon as Mr. Hawthorne was on the other side of it. “Take a look at this shit.”
“What is it?” I looked down at the stack of papers as he threw them on my desk.
“He was being blackmailed—blackmailed by some little slut on the Internet.” Reynard pulled a chair close and sat down. “Look at these chat logs. I matched the dates—right after he agreed to her price, he transferred fifty-thousand dollars to a bank account in Wisconsin.”
“I mean—that’s horrible.” I scanned the chat logs, blinking in surprise at the exchange. “But fifty thousand dollars would have been nothing to him…”
“I bet she came back for more.” He grabbed a page and turned it around so that I could see it. “Right here, she threatened to tell Katie everything if he didn’t wire her the money.”
“But—he paid her.” I tilted my head to the side. “Right?”
“Yes—but she had her teeth in him by that point. She was going to bleed him dry!” He grabbed one of the pieces of paper and squeezed it in his fist. “This fucking bitch is going to pay. I’m going to find her.”
“Are you sure she was asking for more money?” I started reading through the logs.
“She blackmailed him for fifty thousand dollars! Do you think she would have quit once she had him against the fucking ropes? There are a lot of video chats—see right there.” He pointed at a spot where the typing seemed to stop and was followed by a note stating they were live chatting. “I bet she recorded him.”
“Okay, let’s say you’re right.” I put down the papers. “There’s not much we can do. We can call the cops and tell them she blackmailed him, and they might arrest her—but then what? It’ll end up in the papers—it’ll tarnish the company name.”
“We made a vow.” Reynard’s jaw tightened.
Fuck. I was just trying to make him think I was on his side. I never expected it to come to something like this.
“I’ll honor it.” I sighed. “We’ll find a way to make sure she pays for what she’s done without jeopardizing the company.”
Hopefully, Reynard never finds her. I’m scared of what he might actually do if he does…
Reynard took Wyatt’s laptop after his funeral, and once I saw what he found, I was glad that he did. Wyatt didn’t leave a suicide note and while that left his wife with no answers about why he was gone, it was probably better that she didn’t know the truth. As far as she knew, she buried a husband that was faithful to her—loved her with all of his heart—cared for his children. She didn’t need to know what made him snap—what made him close his garage door, drink a whole bottle of liquor, and start his car so that the fumes could end his life.
One month later
“I found her.” Reynard walked into my office and slammed a piece of paper down in front of me. “Her name is Elizabeth Abernathy—she goes by Lizzy. Oh, and get this shit—she’s right here in New York.”