“Tell me what the hell you were up to today,” Calvin asked when I turned back toward the living room. “For a fact, I know Jenkins notified you that we are no longer working on the Richardson case. And I get a notification of your searches, just in case you’re considering lying to me.”
“Calvin, do we seriously have to do this now? It’s after midnight. Emotions are running high. Yours and Mel’s businesses just suffered serious fire damage, Mother is housing a murder suspect, and I believe LJ has some vendetta against me and quite possibly you. Please. Please.”
He kept his gaze trained on me, and he hadn’t moved a muscle.
Fine. I blew out a breath and counted to five. I guess we were doing this now. “I know.”
“What do you mean, you know?” He narrowed his eyes at me.
“It means what it sounds like exactly. Do I need to say it aloud?”
“Yes.” The one word sounded loaded.
I threw my hands in the hair and let them drop and slap against my thighs. “Fine then. I know why mother has taken an interest in Harper Richardson. I know why she doesn’t want me involved. What I don’t know is why she never informed my father before running off and offering her place up as a jail cell for Harper, but hey, no one tells me anything.”
“What?” Calvin looked blindsided. “She what?”
Was he serious right now?
“Calvin! It was all over the news. Mother marched into the courtroom not two hours after she had some major meltdown about her past.” I swallowed. “And she announced to the judge that she would be putting up bail for Harper and offering her place as lodging while she submitted to house arrest. She followed that up by making a case to the press about the injustice of this case.”
He really hadn’t known this. I could scarcely believe it.
“I helped a buddy out after I spoke with Jenkins,” he trailed off. Calvin’s face turned purple. His eyes looked wild. I’d never seen him react to anything this way before, not even when Charles had thrown up the name Folsom. I started to rethink my idea to clear the air tonight.
“God, Calvin, you look insane.” The cords of his neck were bulging and so were his eyes; he gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”
He took a step toward me, and I took an involuntary scoot away as he spat out, “How could your mother be so careless? What is she thinking?”
I shook my head. “I think she believes she is helping a young woman in need. A mentally abused woman.”
He paced the floor, and when his eyes fell on the briefcase on the chair beside the table, he froze. I’d been so out of it that I’d not even considered having stolen property in my house while Quinn was here. I guess Charles didn’t know I had his computer. Perhaps Bea had already fled, and he believed she took his property. I worried for the girl.
Slowly, Calvin bent and lifted the tag. He whirled around, his nostril flaring. “Can I not trust anyone in this family to listen to me? I forbade you from seeing Charles Hammond.”
Something in me snapped. My fists balled at my side; my freshly manicured nails stung my palms. I couldn’t control the tremor of rage that ran through my body. “You freaking forbade me! What a misogynistic, high-handed, egotistical load of bull! You can’t forbid me from doing anything.”
“I’m your damn boss.” His eyes were hard, cold, and intimidating. I’d never seen this side of my uncle before and certainly had never expected it to be directed at me. He’d had a background in special ops and had survived in the roughest squads in the most dangerous areas of the world. And now I knew how he’d grown up: with a father as the leader of some crazy movement. I’d been aware he was a mean SOB when he needed to be. But never ever to me.
“Not anymore,” I shot back—both of us heaving. Oh my God, if this is how he acted when I mentioned Harper and Charles, I couldn’t even begin to fathom his reaction to me telling him about Charles’s notes. PTSD, my inner voice screamed. He has exhibited symptoms, no doubt about it. I wished Daddy were here. I forced myself to be calm. I picked up my bottle of water, took a sip, and then fiddled with the lid. My mind was whirling with fears, worries, and a bit of guilt from bringing any of this up. He seemed to be struggling with his own emotions. This private man felt exposed. His business had just burned and would not be a functional workspace for some time. All of his equipment was probably destroyed. I tried to be mindful of this.
He began to pace, pausing here and there to cast a glance my way, clearly struggling with his warring emotions. I thought of the picture of the young boy and nearly broke. He’d done so well. He was a warrior. A survivor. He and my mother both. I wouldn’t lie to him or patronize him. He deserved the truth.
I kept my tone low and hopefully soothing. “Charles came to the courthouse today and told me that I had no idea who I was. He said neither you nor Mother is what you appear.” I held out my hand as if to try and calm a wild animal. “And right now, I don’t recognize you.”
“I tend to become agitated when someone who is supposed to trust me implicitly hides valuable information. This isn’t the way we work, Lyla Jane Moody.”
I leaned over and picked up a napkin off my table, waving it in front of his face. “I made a mistake by not telling you. I’ve been in the dark for so long.”
He scrubbed his face with his hand.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea when I started digging that I’d dig up a life you wanted to stay buried,” I said softly.
He dropped his hand and made direct eye contact with me. An expression I couldn’t read flashed across his face. He opened his mouth, and his phone rang. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, and I sat my weary self on the sofa. “What’s wrong, Franny.”
My phone pinged with an incoming text and image. I glanced down, and my world ended.
I have your family. Come to the house. Bring Charles’s computer.
No cops, or they all die. We’ll be watching.