Just as McKenna takes her seat around the circular glass table across from Ryder, Ryder’s second-in-command, Alex McCoy, pops her head through the doorway. She’s a cute twentysomething woman. With her long dark ponytail, skinny jeans, and black blackwood security T-shirt, she doesn’t look old enough to be here, but her sharp golden eyes shine with wisdom. “Need me?” she asks.
“Please.” Ryder nods.
She enters the room with her laptop in hand and takes a seat next to Ryder. I remain on my feet, leaning against the wall, not taking my eyes off McKenna. For all I know this story is a ruse to throw us off. McKenna’s smart and clever, and I don’t put it past her to outsmart us all.
“All right,” Ryder says, his eyes meeting mine quickly before he addresses Alex. “Go ahead and pull that video up.”
Her fingers fly across the keyboard, then on the glass wall behind them a video pops up. It shows a busy night at the pub, nothing special. I’m there working behind the bar, and so is McKenna.
“We’ve watched hundreds of hours of surveillance videos from the bar in the weeks leading up to the very first tabloid article about Micah. While we thought,” Alex says, speaking directly to McKenna, “you were behind this, I told Ryder this morning that I thought we might be wrong. I think it’s this guy right here.” She clicks a couple buttons, stopping at the back of someone else walking down the street near the back door of the bar. “This surveillance video stream is from a business across the street from O’Keefe’s, and he keeps showing up on all the days that the bar’s security cameras went down, which we assume is when the bugs were planted. Sadly, we don’t have a clear shot of the back door, nor does the bar have a video camera in the kitchen, which leads to the server room.”
McKenna leans forward and studies the screen. “This picture isn’t very clear.”
“Here, I’ve got a better shot,” Alex says.
A few clicks later, another image of the side of the guy’s face shows on the screen. McKenna’s skin goes ghost white, her voice barely a whisper, “That’s my brother. That’s Evan.”
Ryder leans forward across the table to her, staring at McKenna intently. “Now why would your brother be bugging Gabe’s bar?”
“Money, I can only guess.”
I’m hearing the conversation but all the air leaves my lungs as the situation I thought was terrible is now made worse. My stomach is roiling. I can’t even comprehend all that’s gone wrong in the last couple hours or how to fix anything. But one thing I do know by looking at her. “You don’t seem surprised that your brother would do something like this.”
“Because I’m not surprised,” McKenna says, avoiding my gaze, staring down at her hands pressing against the desk. “He was probably paid well by the tabloid, and that’s something he would totally do, no matter who he hurt.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cellphone, dials a number, then places the phone to her ear. “Evan, I don’t know what shit you’re up to, but your mess is now my mess. Call me.” She ends the call, shuts her eyes a minute. The pain that ripples across her face makes me hate myself for so many reasons and more. I want to reach for her, beg her to forgive me, take away that pain, but I have no right to touch her now.
When she reopens her eyes, they’re misty. “I don’t know why he’s done this,” she says to Ryder. “But that’s him on the video, so there’s really no denying his involvement. Will you be calling the police?”
Ryder and Alex exchange a look, then Ryder frowns at her. “Has this happened to you before?”
She rises from her seat, her fingers gripping the edge, knuckles white. “Has Evan fucked up my life? Yes. Many, many times before today. He has a gambling addiction. So, he gets in trouble and I bail him out.” She blinks, a coldness that haunts me slides over her face. “I take it that you know my address?”
Ryder nods. “I do.”
“Good, then you know where to send the police when you want to press charges against him.” With the same void of emotion in her voice, she turns to me. “You have my phone number, so text me when my final check is ready and I’ll come get it.”
I’m lost, staring into her eyes, seeing right through her. Sure, she’s playing this off like she’s got it all together, but I see the pain hiding behind the strength in her eyes.
Pain that I helped cause.
She’s going to break. I want to be there when she does.
“McKenna,” I say, somehow scrambling to fix how she’s shutting down.
“What?” she asks.
I take a step forward to do . . . something, but the raw heady pain in her eyes stops me in my tracks. Christ, what have I done to her? How do I even attempt to remove the agony ripping through her? Agony that I understand, because I felt it this morning. But she has it worse now. She wasn’t only betrayed by her brother. I betrayed her, too, and worse, she didn’t deserve any of it.
“Please let me explain,” I say to her.
She holds up her hand, stopping me. “I’m sorry my brother did this to you,” she says softly, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s unforgivable. But do not take another step toward me. I can’t take anymore, Gabe.”
An apology hangs on my tongue, but that’s not good enough, I know that. Instead of believing her, I thought the very worst of her. She deserves so much better than that. I realize in that very moment, that being hurt . . . being disappointed . . . is something she’s become accustomed to. And I just proved her insecurities right. Nothing good happens to her. Everyone in the end will always hurt her, no matter how good she is. It’s nothing that she has to tell me, I see it all over her face.
“Alex.” Ryder gently breaks through the thick emotion swelling in the room. “Please show McKenna out.”
“Of course.” Alex glances between McKenna and me, pity in her expression, then hurries to lead the way as McKenna follows.