Page 38 of Hell of a Mess

Thirty-Three

Luther

“I’m sorry, Luther, are we interrupting your texting with business?” Linc asked in that annoyed tone he saved for me alone.

I was well aware of the business we were handling.

Me: Eat the spaghetti for me. I want video proof.

A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth when I thought about Lace’s reaction to my request. I’d managed to get her to eat half of a peanut butter and banana sandwich before I had to leave Mal’s this afternoon.

Mal hadn’t wanted to leave her at home while we planned our strategy on how to handle Halsten. So, she was here. In the kitchen with Jayda, Stevie, and Branwen. She’d promised me she would eat.

Ocean Eyes: I can’t do that. They’ll see me.

Me: Tell them it’s for me. I asked for proof that you ate.

“As I was saying…” Linc spoke loudly, and I sighed and lifted my eyes to see him looking at me.

“I can hear you,” I pointed out and reached for my whiskey.

“Then maybe you’d like to recap what you saw in the basement for those who weren’t there.” He said it as if he’d already asked me to do this.

I hadn’t heard that. Guessed I had gotten good at blocking him out.

I took a drink, needing it to go over this shit. I knew it had to be done, but, damn it, I didn’t want to think about it.

“The door that Wayon believed led to Lace’s bedroom was a basement.

Concrete walls, floors, damp, stunk of mildew.

Boxes and discarded furniture was stacked up, along with other things like old portraits.

I found one of a girl on a horse. It wasn’t Lace.

The far-back corner, there was a piece of cardboard, lying out flat, with a small piece of foam at one end and a flashlight beside it.

When I got closer, I could see the imprint of a body, like someone had lain there many times. Not just once. It was worn. Old.”

I said nothing about the notebook. I hadn’t been able to read any more since coming home to find Lace gone. I was afraid I’d read shit that made me want to go check on her, and I no longer had that ability. My sleep had already gone to shit as it was.

“Okay, so how do we know that it was Lace who slept there? I mean, is that what you’re saying you believe? That he hid her in a basement?” Gathe asked, scowling as he said it.

The idea wasn’t something he wanted to think was true, and I understood it. I didn’t either, but I had the proof in that notebook.

“It was her bed,” I replied.

“Did you ask her?” he pushed.

“No, I didn’t have to. I just know.”

“But—”

“I said, I know,” I repeated through clenched teeth.

“Does where she slept matter in the grand scheme of things?” Bane asked.

“Yes,” Gathe, Locke, Mal, and I all said in unison.

Bane nodded. “Okay. Then, Luther, how do you know it was her bed?”

I swung my glare to Bane.

They were pushing me, and I didn’t fucking like it. Why couldn’t they take my word for it?

“Look, when we invade the bastard’s house, we need our facts straight,” Linc said. “We need to know exactly what went on in that house and the right things to say to get him to admit what he did.”

The plan had been set into place for us.

While Thaddeus and some of his men surrounded the Halsten property, a few of us would go inside and get the fucker to confess his sins.

It would be recorded and handed over to authorities.

He’d lied about a daughter’s death. Hidden another away who was comatose.

His threats to take “Dalia’s abduction,” as he’d referred to it, public if we didn’t hand her over had to be shut down.

This was the cleanest way to handle it. With our video proof, he would be silenced, and he would have to promise to leave Lace alone and never contact her again.

I didn’t think it was enough. I wanted him dead.

“I have all the proof I need,” I told him.

“How?” he demanded.

Dammit. I wasn’t giving them her private letters. She’d never meant for anyone to see them.

“I found something else in the basement. Lace’s journals. And she had written in them all her life.”

Linc’s gaze narrowed. “And you’re just now telling me you have her handwritten story of what happened?!”

“The notebook you had that night,” Locke said from across the room.

“You have it?” Mal asked, his voice pained, as if he was afraid to read it.

He wasn’t going to get to, so he could relax.

“It’s her private thoughts,” I said. “It’s not something to be handed around and shared.”

“It will tell us what all that bastard did! We need to shut down his threats! End this and let Lace have a normal life,” Locke shouted.

My eyebrows shot up as I turned my head to meet his heated gaze. Had the fucker just yelled at me?

“I know what he did. The daughter that was his has a mental illness, and he took the one he had kept hidden and treated her like a damn servant to take her place. The why I don’t know. But I doubt she does either. All I know is, he’s a sick motherfucker.”

“I want to know what happened to my daughter, Luther,” Mal said.

“Do you, Mal? You think it’ll help you sleep at night? Because it won’t. Those nightmares she has will become yours.”

He paled. If the threat of it made him ill, then the actual words she’d written as a little girl would shatter him.

The room was silent for the first time since we’d all gathered.

All the Carvers were here, but they’d not said much.

I knew Than wasn’t liking the idea of working alongside the Davidsons.

Particularly Wayon. Bane’s father, Fender, was here, along with all three of the Savelles.

The only one from the Mississippi branch who wasn’t here was Gannon Rice.

His Parkinson’s had progressed to the point that he rarely left his property.

In his place, however, was the priest. Well, he wasn’t a priest anymore.

Not since he’d fucked Gannon’s daughter and lost his religion.

He was currently engaged to Saylor Rice and stepping into family business more and more.

I was still gonna call him Father though because that shit made me laugh.

“She doesn’t know I have it or that I’ve read it. If she knew anyone had read it, I’m not sure she could handle it. And I don’t want her hurt anymore. She’s had enough fucking pain and betrayal for three lifetimes.” I looked from Locke to Mal as I said it, then took another drink of my whiskey.

“Where’s the notebook?” Linc asked.

I sighed. The man was a fucking dog with a bone. “Somewhere you’ll never see it. Now, can we move on with this meeting?”

My phone vibrated in my hand, and I looked down to see Lace had sent me my video. Good girl. I didn’t dare play it in here with the nosy-ass bitches all watching me. This was mine.

“We have what we need,” Fender said, speaking up. “Luther’s right. It’s the girl’s private thoughts. Not ours to read for research. Even if he did read it himself.”

“Not all of it,” I said.

“Regardless, we have the details. Thaddeus said Halsten has offshore accounts for his tax evasion and fraud on several dealings. He’s paid hit men out of that money to clear out anyone he feels is a threat to him or his goal. Which is to marry his daughter to Arun Al-Bahrani,” Fender finished.

Linc nodded. “All right. We will go with what we have. Get him to admit the rest. Shut down his threats and get Lace’s birth certificate and death certificate while there. It’ll save us a step in getting Lace’s identity straightened out.”

“I spoke with our lawyers about it yesterday,” Mal said. “If we don’t have either, it’s fine. Her DNA is the proof needed. Once we’ve handled Halsten, then I’ll have her file the legal petition to have her presumed death overturned and the death certificate amended.”

“And make sure it states she’s a Bowen, not a fucking Halsten,” Gathe added.

Mal nodded.

“Hale, Jonas, Fender, Jude, and of course Than will stay here. The rest of us will head out at six tomorrow night to meet up with Thaddeus and his men,” Linc said.

I turned my attention back to my phone, ready to get out of here so I could watch my video, then go see Lace before Mal took her away again.