Even though I know we’re alone, I close the door behind me.
“What do you mean you need to stay here awhile? Why? What’s going on?” A million possible scenarios flash through my mind.
“Look, it’s just for a little while. Until things get straightened out,” he pleads.
“How long’s a little while?”
He shrugs. “A few days?”
“Okay. What’s wrong with your place?”
He glances out the window. In the distance police sirens sound. I wonder if they’re related to him. But then, in the last few weeks I’ve had my fair share of police sirens too.
“I’ll explain in the morning. I just need some rest.”
As my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I see the fatigue on his face. His sunken eyes, the droop in his shoulders. It’s all magnified by the shadows, but it’s still present.
“How did you know where I live?”
“It’s all over your medical records.”
Of course. I study him a moment longer and let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll get you set up on the couch.”
Shaking his head, he says, “No. The fewer people who know I’m here, the better.”
I narrow my eyes. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
“Nothing that’s going to affect you.”
I open my mouth to retort, but he raises his eyebrows. “Please?”
I was going to spend tomorrow doing some research into Emma’s attackers, see how the investigation is going. My last mental health day before I attempt to dive back into a world without Emma.
Dammit, I need to stop thinking about her like she’s dead. She’s recovering. She could still turn around for us. We could go back to the way things used to be. I just need to make sure those men pay for what they did. The OPD has them, now we just have to wait for their convictions.
Dean shifts his weight. I’ve been lost in my own head for too long. I let out another exasperated breath. “Okay, then you’re sleeping on the floor.”
He holds up his hands. “That’s fine. Thank you. I really appreciate it. I’ll try to stay out of your way.”
“I have no idea when my brother’s going to be home, so if you need to use the bathroom or anything, now’s the time.”
I toss some spare blankets on the hardwood floor next to my bed and change while Dean’s in the bathroom. We cross paths as I go to brush my teeth, but don’t say anything to each other. As I finish getting ready for bed, Cale comes in.
“Hey, how’d your meeting go?” My bedroom door is ajar and the lamp by my bed is on. I can see Dean’s shadow move. My back tenses up.
“They’re a bunch of spineless pricks!”
I peel my eyes away from my doorway to avoid suspicion. Still, I raise my voice when I ask, “That bad?”
“Nobody down there would give me a fucking answer!” He snatches a beer out of the fridge. “About anything!”
“Maybe there just isn’t a story.” I linger in the bathroom doorway, trying to keep Cale’s attention away from the opposite side of the apartment.
Slapping his hand on the counter, he looks at me. “The Works has been a chemical wasteland for twenty years. The airport didn’t even want to pave over it as part of their expansion plans. Now all of a sudden it’s suited for residential housing?” He shakes his head. “There’s definitely something there. I just need to rethink my strategy.”
“I don’t even really know the story behind the Works. I just know it’s been a hot topic since this project was first proposed.”
He takes a seat on the stool at the counter. Relaxed now that he’s facing the opposite direction, I take the seat next to him.
“The Works was actually a big part of Olympia’s booming industrial economy,” he explains. “The Montgomery Works Company was the largest company to occupy the most northern neighborhood of the city limits.”
“What did they do?” I ask.
“Batteries. Distributed all over the country. They were huge.”
“So what happened?”
“When industries began turning toward alternative energy sources, the demand for the types of batteries Montgomery produced dropped. They were forced to downsize and eventually moved to Terry Lake. They built a smaller facility on cheaper property.”
I nod. “Like everyone else, basically.”
“Exactly. The problem was, the company left behind a toxic footprint. Larger than any other company in the city, since no one else matched their size.”
“Damn. You would’ve thought environmentalists or someone would’ve wanted to clean it up or something.”
“Some members of city council claim the area has been cleaned up. Others think it’s still a danger to nearby neighborhoods. The airport and the Wind Tunnel mostly cut it off from the rest of the city, but there is a residential section that shares the same block with the Works.”
“How long have those houses been there? Do they even notice any harmful effects?”
He shrugs. “It’s hard to say. Montgomery was there a long time, but it’s been twenty years since they left. Something should’ve happened in that time.”
“Probably did.”
“That’s what I’m thinking too,” he says. “The city council members who claim the area has been surveyed and passed by the state’s environmental review board have pushed through this housing development for low-income families. Since they’re talking poor people, not as many council members are vocal about the dangers this brings to potential residents of the area. The people who live in the houses adjacent to the property aren’t developing cancer or other defects, so they think the area directly next to it is fine. I think it’s just a matter of drainage. There isn’t any. All the toxic chemicals are just sitting in a pool under all that pavement. Only the future residents of this housing development would be affected.”
“Are there any public domain documents you can look through?”
“None that offer anything useful. Montgomery Works is a private company, and the housing developer is privately owned as well. Short of stealing old city documents that might not even tell me anything, I’m stuck.”
“Hmm. Aren’t there any workers from Montgomery who worked at that site that you can talk to? Maybe get some eyewitness accounts of the practices going on back in the day and report on it daily. Encourage public backlash and put pressure on the developer to cease production.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “If only it were that easy. Just tracking down people like that would take awhile. By then, the project will have started.” He takes another sip of his drink. “I don’t know. I guess I still have a lot more work to do.”
“You’ll get it.”
“What about you? You going to work tomorrow?”
I look down, silent. If he knew what’s been going through my mind—where I actually was the night Emma was attacked—he’d have me on the first train out to Mom and Dad’s.
“Ethan, what’s happened to her is horrible. I’m sorry that you’re going through this. But in all fairness, you weren’t the one who was attacked. She was. Now I understand that you’re more sensitive than I am and you need to mourn her—”
And just like that, he’s lost my interest in his argument. When he doesn’t understand someone else’s reasoning, he immediately belittles and discredits them. As his only brother, I’ve been the focus of his criticism my whole life.
“—but you have to get on with your life,” he continues. “She’s not dead.”
I chew on my bottom lip while I fight away the demons inside me that are threatening to lash out at him. Especially with Dean in the next room, who has no idea that my life is crumbling all because of a fucking drive-by shooting.
I want to tell him how I found her. The bruises, the blood, the smug looks on the bastards’ faces. The way I turned my back on her and left her bleeding, broken, and exposed on the cement floor like an animal.
But I can’t. That would put me there that night, and as far as he knows, I wasn’t.
“Good night,” is all I can manage.
Alex jumps when she sees me in the basement of the clinic the next morning. I snuck out early, which worked out perfect because my new roommate had to go to work anyway.
I’ve got a lot to do today. A lot to look into. A lot to make up for. I needed to get an early start.
“You scared me,” she says. “How long have you been here?”
“Got here about six thirty.” I keep my eyes on the screen.
“How did you get through the alarm?”
“Wes gave me the code.”
She lets out an annoyed breath of air.
“I spruced up your processor on this computer,” I add. “The speed on this thing was embarrassing.”
“Well, to be fair, it was just in storage until Wes pulled it out when we were testing you. Which, by the way, we should probably continue. Are you still shocking people?”
The tingling in my fingers returned a few days ago. Prior to that, they felt normal. It’s probably time to put on the suit again to help regulate the electric discharges from my body.
“Not as much.”
“Well, I’d still like to run another neuro test.” She leans forward, reading the computer screen. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve pulled up the arrest report for Emma’s attackers from the Olympia Police Department.”
“Did you find anything worthwhile?” she asks with a hint of disdain.
I point to a man with short-cropped hair. “This guy is George Kingston. He’s in his midthirties. Previous arrests include possession of narcotics last year and breaking and entering from two months ago.”
Alex shrugs. “So he’s got a record. How is that helping you or the case against him?”
I hold up my finger and bring up another tab. “The other records I’ve found on him show that he was married for two years. The original petition for divorce claimed that he was abusive, but evidently nothing further came from that claim.”
“Of course not,” she mutters. “Weren’t there two of them? What about the other guy?”
“Mr. Aiden Lipinski. He’s actually only two years older than me, if you can believe it.”
The image I bring up shows a man with patchy skin and puffy eyes. His nose is an irritated red, and the rest of his face sags.
Alex screws up her face. “Well, he’s a looker.”
“Extensive drug use will make you look twenty years older.”
“What’s his record like?”
I pull up yet another tab and skim my findings. “He’s been in and out of jail since his days in juvie, as well as various rehabs—clearly none of them worked. He completed his most recent rehab stay six months ago, although he continued to be on probation. I guess now that he can’t do drugs, he decided to be a pervert instead.”
“Well, at least it sounds like both of them will get put away one way or another,” Alex says.
I shake my head. “They need to be put away now.”
Both of these men are disgusting. They deserve the worst punishment imaginable. And yet, I’m afraid they might go free.
Theresa said they used a rape kit on Emma, but DNA isn’t always conclusive. And even if I was willing to say that I was there, I didn’t actually see them touching her. My testimony would mean nothing.
And okay, they walked right out to the police and were promptly arrested, but just like Emma and I were at the shooting that kick-started all of this, they could claim they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. And until Emma is conscious enough to testify, there’s nothing I can find that further indicates they’re the perpetrators.
“What more can you do?” She pulls some files from the cabinet beside me.
“A lot more than most people can.”
Alex snaps her head to me. “Ethan, you need to stop. This is a dangerous road you’re going down. You could end up in a hospital bed right next to her. Is that what you want? Just let it go.”
“I can’t! I was there! I saw them!” I point to the fading bruise on my face. “Fucking Aiden Lipinski nearly knocked me out.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” she fires back.
“What I should’ve done the last time.”
“You’re going to play God and kill two men?”
I turn back to the computer and mutter, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
She pulls on my shoulder and spins me toward her. “Ethan, take a look at yourself. Is this the kind of man you want to be? Is this someone who would make Emma proud? Because, let me tell you, you are not the person I met in the hospital.”
“Things have changed. I’ve changed. I’m sorry if that offends you, but I can’t let them get away. I’ve got an opportunity to get justice for her. Doesn’t she deserve that?”
Alex bites her lip and lets out a breath.
“I’ve already talked to Wes,” I say when I turn back to the computer. “He called me after my first outing in the suit, asking how it worked. He said he’s got an idea for a new suit worked up that will better accommodate the charges running through my body.” I turn back and stare blankly at the scream, then mutter, “Like it or not, this is who I’ve become.”
She studies me a moment longer before turning toward the stairs without a word.
Tossing my head back against the chair, I rub my hand in my face. I was harsh, I know that. She has a point. If I keep going like this, I’m going to drive myself crazy. I’m already halfway there. Before I leave today, I’ll have to apologize to Alex. She’s sticking out her neck for me. I need to remember that.
The next link I pull up is the website of the Olympia Tribune. Under the police blotter, the headline reads, “Pair arrested for rape released on bail.”
The research on the two men led me down a rabbit hole into the Martelli crime family and mafias in general. In a crime family, there are typically several tiers in the hierarchy. Kingston and Lipinski were what Wikipedia defined as “associates.” The ones who got their hands dirty but weren’t full-blown members of the family.
No, the man who’s truly responsible for this is higher up in the food chain. The caporegime who controls the south side of town is the one who is most likely to have put the hit on us. Sure, he may have consulted with the family boss, but ultimately, it was the capo who ordered his men to beat and rape Emma.
Her attackers are the only connection I have, though. Even if they don’t know why, they’ll know who sent them. I have to start there.
My stomach gurgles loudly on my way home. I haven’t had much to eat all day. I grabbed a banana on my way to the clinic this morning and had a couple bottles of water, but other than that, I’ve got nothing in me.
That, coupled with the clinic closing for the night, is the reason I’m on my way home now. Good thing tomorrow’s Saturday. I’ll have more time to look into the Martellis before I go to that fancy dinner at Frank Rizzoli’s. I just wish I hadn’t already told him that I’d be there.
Dean is leaning on the wall near the front door of my building when I approach.
“It’s about time,” he says.
“Hey, I’m doing you a favor. I don’t want to hear you complaining.” I pull out my key and unlock the door. “What are you doing down here anyway? Is Cale upstairs?”
I hold the door open for him but he doesn’t move.
“I just need to ask you one question before we go up there.”
I roll my eyes. I’m so tired of having to explain myself to everyone. Hopefully next week when I’m back to work everyone will get off my back about my every move.
“Are you that guy they were talking about on the news the other day? The one who shoots lightning out of his hands?”