My following line feels like I’ve slid a dagger into my heart as I murmur, “I don’t know if I believe you.”
And there he is.
The father I loved.
The same dagger cuts straight through him too.
Every step my father takes toward the pillars lining the sitting room exit, my heart crumples in my chest.
“Wait, there’s one more thing.” My voice hardly rises above a whisper. “Dad.”
He turns around. One last seed of hope connects us.
“Dad, may I see your notebook, please.”
“Why?”
“You will,” Victor’s tone, sharper than an obsidian knife cuts that connection between us, “give her the book. Now.”
In disgust, Jonah shakes his head. “This was what I was afraid of. An older man taking advantage—”
“Not all older men do,” I gesture to Momma’s journal. “You did, Uncle Red restored her heart . . . for a time. The notebook.”
“I don’t have it.”
Victor sniffs, running a hand over his hair, as lengthy strides bring him towering over my father.
“One of his pockets.” I close my eyes, lifting my head to the ceiling while pinching the bridge of my nose.We look like we’re giving him a friggen shakedown.
“I’ve got it.” I open my eyes, and Victor’s stands before me, holding the tiny pocketbook in hand.
“Uncle Red was in a secret society,” I say as I open the small notebook.
“Quite ominous,” Jonah retorts.
I can feel Victor’s questioning gaze seer through me as I sift through pages above my comprehension. This was a vital bit of information that he’d sink his teeth into. “Not ominous. They help people. You vied for the same spot. He was inducted; you were not.”
“I—”
“Doesn’t matter.” I hold up the pocketbook and point to a waxed stamp on the last page. “The symbol of his secret society.His book.You stole it when you set fire to his place.Tell me, Jonah, did you ever figure out what any of this means, or is it just a trophy? You know, like a serial killer would have?”
40
Victor
Isit in my office deep in thought, rolling a rugby ball around with the palm of my hand. Whitson departed with not a second to waste. Luxury and my brother and his lady had a quick lunch, and then the women went to the gardens to discuss wedding festivities.
Burt sits across from me, calling the airport to confirm that Whitson is on the next flight—against Luxury’s wishes. Getting the chap out of Arlington ensures that he won’t create a disturbance.
Burt places his mobile back into his pocket. “It is finished. Dr. Whitson has boarded the plane. TheRedbloke’s literally in a secret society?”
“I texted the details to Monica during our lunch—after squeezing them out of Luxury.”
Sniggering, he settles across from me.
“How dare you have a laugh?”
“I take many liberties as your butler.” Burt gestures at how he’s seated in my presence. “Why not?”