Page 80 of The Professor

“Oh my God.” I shakily lifted the glass to my lips again. “But…but she hadn’t killed anyone. She wasn’t a murderer. I thought you just killed murderers.”

“Mitch got word that one of the girls died in detox, heart failure, and that’s just one batch of girls. This has been going on for years. Your lavish lifestyle, since birth, proves it. A lotof women will have died. Miserable, painful, addiction-riddled, with no dignity left.”

I took a deep breath and remembered my studies on the justice system. “She would have faced a criminal trial.”

“If she’d agreed to confess, yes, that would have been an option.”

I blew out a breath. So my boyfriend wouldn’t have actually murdered my mother on sight.

If she’d confessed.

But would she have? I knew enough about criminals to know when they were in that deep for that long they didn’t confess—they’d rather die than face justice or drop their criminal colleagues in the shit.

“I need to understand what my father knew about all of this. How deep in it with her he was.”

“I agree, you need to know that.”

The clock showed mid-afternoon. “I should go.”

“No, let Vince have his time with your father. You never know, Vince might get more facts that he can tell you later.”

“Vince sees me as a little girl in need of protecting from the big bad world. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“Big brothers have a habit of doing that.” He glanced away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…Sadie…I should have thought.” I touched his arm.

His phone rang. “Mitch. What’s up?”

I leaned closer so I could hear Mitch speaking.

“This fucking book, it’s the Holy Grail.”

“What do you mean?” Andrew asked, swirling his whisky around his glass.

“It’s the who’s who of the underworld. Your wall, it’s gonna have a lot of blank spaces filled in. I’m telling you.” Mitch spoke fast.

Excitement flashed in Andrew’s eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, really, and each phone number is a fucking asshole we need to attend to.”

“I like the sound of that.” He looked at me. “Gotta go, Mitch. I’ll come over when you’ve finished your shift, gather whoever else is free.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

He ended the call.

“You love it, don’t you?” I sat up straighter and studied his eyes.

“What? What do I love?”

“Justice.”

“Of course.” He touched his tattoo. “It’s the foundation for civilized society.”

I nodded. I didn’t disagree with that. “You also love being a vigilante, doling out your own justice.”

“Yes.”