Page 96 of Torment
Then Nick speaks.
“Men like Jack Steele don’t fall fast,” Nick says calmly.
“First, the money disappears.” He taps the folder in front of Karson. “Then the friends.”
Jeremy tilts his head. “And after that?”
Elias shifts his weight, one shoulder lifting in a casual shrug.
“After that,” he says. “They start making mistakes.”
Nick nods once.
“And when men like Jack start making mistakes,” he adds quietly. “They’re finally vulnerable.”
The clip of Melissa trying to escape the press replays on the television. Then another of Jack, his smile looking thinner this time, more strained.
The cracks are starting to show.
“They’re crumbling,” Nick shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “But they haven’t fallen.”
Not yet.
My thumb rubs absentmindedly over Parker’s knuckles as I watch Jack disappear behind a wall of bodyguards.
All those years. All those lies. All the pain they built their empire on. It’s finally starting to break.
Nick rocks back on his heels.
“But it’s coming.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Ashlynn doesn’t realizeI’m watching her. She sits on the penthouse balcony, her legs tucked underneath her, a mug of tea in her hand. She looks out over the vast skyline, watching the last bit of light disappear behind the mountains.
Six weeks ago she couldn't even stand without help. Now she moves on her own again like she used to–quiet, smooth and deliberate. The bruises that once painted her skin are gone now. If you didn’t know what happened, you wouldn’t see it at all. But I know exactly where every one of them used to be. I trace my fingers over the unseen scars when she sleeps, never allowing myself to forget that I almost lost her again. Twice.
The spot where she had the staples is healed as well, no longer raised. It left a scar, and Jerry guessed she was hit with arock or a pipe. That information made me wish I could resurrect the dead and kill Owen a second a time…then maybe a third.
Her concussion symptoms are pretty much resolved. She still gets headaches sometimes if it’s too bright or if we’re down in the booth for too long. But that’s all. We’ve remedied that by keeping the penthouse dimly lit, and only staying in places with a lot of commotion for short amounts of time. Jerry called it post-concussive symptoms. He said that they should have resolved by now, but he checks in often and is confident they will go away completely soon.
I think it’s stress.
A week ago she claimed her father’s body. The county released him in the middle of the night after the investigation closed. They were about to take possession of him and move forward with a cremation, but she showed the DNA results and they handed him over.
Ashlynn didn’t cry when we buried him. She didn't speak much either. She just held my hand while the priest talked about peace and forgiveness. When it was over she looked down at the headstone once. It was simple. No name or dates yet, but I know she won’t rest until he has a proper marker.
Lost for many years. Found at last.
“I’ll make this right,” she told him.
I didn’t have to ask what she meant. I already knew.
Standing from her seat, she walks toward the balcony door and slides it open. When she steps inside the living room, her eyes meet mine immediately.
“You’re staring…again,” she says, closing the door behind her before walking toward me.
I don't bother denying it.
