Page 110 of Luck of the Devil

Malcolm tilted his head, his eyes distant. “Last I heard, he was using it as a drop site. No one really knew what for, and most people knew better than to ask.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Even you?”

He gave a dry laugh. “I had other issues to deal with.”

“Such as?” I prodded.

He studied me for a moment. “I quit Simmons’s years before we busted him. By then, he was hell bent on destroyin’ me, and I was hell bent on gettin' him out of my county. I kept tabs on what he was doing in other places, but I didn’t have the bandwidth to dig into that one. The way I saw it, if I took him out, it all fell down.” His face hardened. “Turns out I was naïve.”

I scoffed. “That’s not a word I’d use to describe you.”

“And yet it fits.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but instead he said, “After Simmons toppled, whoever took over has been a lot more careful to keep it all on the down low. But what’s happening now is worse than what Simmons did.”

“You’ve said that before but never elaborated why.”

His voice dropped a notch. “I suspect Simmons’s replacement is involved in human trafficking.”

I couldn’t hide my surprise. While I knew human trafficking took place in Little Rock, I’d never even heard whispers of something like that going on while I was on the force. “You think Gerald Knox is involved in trafficking people?”

“I have no proof, but he’s been on my short list. Knox is third or fourth generation in the family business. His grandfather was a bootlegger.”

“There are records of that?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “My grandmother was a moonshiner. She knew the man, and said he was as ruthless as they come. I’ve heard his son was just as bad. Stands to reason the next in line would follow suit.”

I tried to picture Malcolm’s grandmother running moonshine and came up short. “Did she teach you how to make it?”

“Let’s just say moonshine wasn’t needed by the time I came around, but she taught me other things.”

“Like what?”

He met my gaze. “Survival.”

I wanted to ask where she’d been when his father was beating the shit out of him and his family, but the fondness in his voice stopped me. He’d told me that his grandparents didn’t give two shits about him. Was she a maternal grandmother he rarely saw?

Now didn’t seem the time to ask him about it.

“You said Gerald Knox’s father was ruthless,” I said. “Where is he now?”

“Rutherford Knox was killed about fifteen years ago, and Gerald—Gerry—took his place. I know Gerry worked with Simmons.”

I looked at the stack of papers. “So, either my mother’s been collecting evidence for years … or she found it recently. If it weren’t for the newspaper clipping, I’d assume the latter. There’s no way my father would have kept something this incriminating.”

“Even he wouldn’t be that stupid,” James muttered.

His insult stung, but I kept my mouth shut. My father didn’t deserve my loyalty.

“But where does the probable mistress fit in?” I asked.

“Good question. Maybe it’s time for you to confront your father.”

The thought of talking to him made me physically ill, but James was right. It was time to tell my father what I knew and see what he had to say for himself.

“And after you talk to him?” James asked. “What then?”

I tried to imagine what came next and drew a blank. “I don’t know. I need to talk to him first.”