Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67675 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Exhausted tears sprung into my eyes as I unlocked my fingers and double-clicked quickly on the mail icon before I could change my mind. The screen blurred and reconstituted itself as the tears slipped down my cheeks. I couldn’t say why I was crying. There was certainly nothing to cry about in Robert’s inbox. It was filled with endless email alerts from sites he’d subscribed to and exchanges between him and the realtor they were working with, but there was very little personal correspondence. There were emails between him and the team of lawyers that was working on their appeal, too, but I only skimmed those.
By the time I got back to mid-March, I’d decided there was nothing to find. Relief and shame swam up my throat as I leaned back in the chair, covering my face with my hands. Landon’s trust no one attitude had rubbed off on me more than I’d realized. Of course Robert wasn’t hiding anything from me.
Taking a steadying breath, I straightened up in the chair again and reached for the mouse, ready to exit and log off and forget that this had ever happened. I’d find a way to make it up to Robert somehow, I thought. I’d take him to dinner, just us, and tell him how much he meant to me. How grateful I was to be his daughter. Things he knew but that I’d never put into words.
And then, just as I was about to log out, there was a ding.
My eyes went to the notification automatically. A text alert. Robert’s computer was connected to his phone. I read it almost without meaning to.
And it changed everything.
29
LANDON
It took several days, and a quarter million dollars wire transferred to an offshore account, to get the help I needed. I had turned to a source I kept in my back pocket without ever intending to actually use them. A shadow organization that lived outside of any law that had ever been created by man or God. It consisted of a few select individuals who could do what even the United States government could not.
I didn’t know how.
I didn’t want to know.
To my surprise, my mom came over. I hadn’t told her that Cami and Emma had gone, but someone must have called her – likely Con – because two days after I sent the money, I got a call from the concierge. She was in the lobby.
“You can always send her up,” I said sharply. I could just picture her, mouth drawn tight, her head held high with injured nobility as she waited for the gatekeepers to let her pass. I went to the elevator, expecting to hear about it first thing when she got off.
To my surprise, she stepped off the elevator without a word and held out her arms. I stared at them. It had been a long time since I hugged my mother. She wasn’t the affectionate sort. I’d always known she loved me because she drilled it into my head, but she did the opposite of what she taught her creative writing students to do – she told instead of showed.
“Well, come on then,” she said impatiently. Her palms turned upward, the hug threatening to become hands thrown in the air.
She was too small to step into her embrace easily, but we tried. I bent down. Her arms formed a rickety cage around me. Her hands patted my back once, twice, three times. Then, as though satisfied that she had performed the hug adequately, she opened her arms and I stepped back out of them.
Bemused, I led her into the apartment. Unlike Cami, she approved of the design. Growing up, we’d had a small, scrabbly back patio, but I hardly ever saw it. She kept thick, heavy drapes on all the windows, including the sliding glass door that led out to it. They were her one nod to decor. The rest of the house was sparsely furnished and decorated. Funny how I hadn’t realized how closely I’d patterned the apartment on my childhood home until now. In every other way, they were polar opposites.
“I’ve come to support you,” my mother announced, settling herself on the only chair that didn’t have a pillow wedged into it or a throw draped over its back. “Is there anything I can do, Landon?” Though her voice was stiff, I could hear the sincerity in the question. She wanted to help. Everyone wanted to help. Con, Garrett, Julian, and Dominic kept calling, updating me on their progress, which was always along the lines of nothing yet. Con sent me food from various restaurants around the city. Julian sent me an advanced screening copy of his latest big budget sci fi film. Garrett invited me to tag along on his latest crisis intervention mission, which were usually always good for a laugh, but I wasn’t in the mood to laugh. Dominic sent me stock tips, which were his way of showing he cared.