Chapter 19

Ariana

19

Kendric and I keep our ballcaps on and pulled low as we walk down the crowded midtown street. There are so many people and so many cars. It's the middle of rush hour, and nobody cares who we are or where we're going.

"Will Sky and Raylan be okay back there?" I ask.

We've been quiet for the past twenty minutes, focusing mostly on moving fast but not fast enough to draw unwanted attention, sticking to the shadows and the pedestrian traffic while crossing through a whole neighborhood.

Ahead, a throng of apartment buildings rise. We're on the east side now, home to a significant portion of Everton's lower middle-class and blue-collar population.

"Yeah, as long as they don't get out of the truck," Kendric says. "We'll need that surveillance footage. Hell, we need all the evidence we can get. Someday soon, we will have to testify in court against them. Provided we survive."

A chill runs down my spine. "Right."

"You might have to testify against your father, Ariana. I hope you're becoming aware of that."

"Yeah."

He takes my hand and gives it a soft, reassuring squeeze. "You're going to be okay. We won't let anything happen to you. That I can promise."

"I don't think I'm scared of dying," I sigh. "I think I'm scared of everything else that comes before it and what will be left behind."

"Sounding mighty philosophical at this hour."

"I'm trying to keep myself from spiraling out of control," I reply. "None of this is easy on me, Kendric. The world as I know it is falling apart, crumbling right before my eyes."

"That's just the fa?ade. The world was always like this. I'm just sorry you're having to find out this way."

I glance around, still worried we might be discovered. The paranoia runs deep, and for good reason. The more I think about it, the more anxious I get. "Where are we going again?"

"I want you to meet someone."

We go up the stairs of the third apartment building to our left. The hallway is dimly lit and surprisingly cool as opposed to the rising temperatures outside. It's quiet, and it smells musty. There must be at least five apartments per floor. We take a dingy elevator all the way to the top. We get out and stop outside apartment number 54. Kendric knocks three times.

"Who am I meeting?" I ask.

The door opens.

A man in his late sixties appears in the doorway. His grey hair is cut short, and a thick white beard in desperate need of a trim covers most of his face. His blue eyes scan both of us with fierce suspicion while I try to figure out whether that stain on his tee shirt is mustard or some kind of shrimp sauce.

"You're not supposed to be here," the man says. "Were you followed?"

"No," Kendric assures him. "We need to talk."

"Here? What's wrong with our usual meeting spot?"

"This couldn't wait."

The man shakes his head in heavy dismay, then looks at me again, a twinkle of recognition prompting his jaw to practically drop. "Kendric, you dumb son of a bitch. What is she doing here?"

"Okay, I'm officially in the dark," I say. "Who are you?" I ask the man before looking at Kendric. "Whois he?"

"This is retired Detective Roderick Amstaff," he replies.

"And you're Rose Parker's daughter," Amstaff says to me, his gaze fixed on my face. "You take after her."

The words hit me like a punch in the gut. "You knew my mother?"

He nods once, then takes a couple of steps back, motioning for us to go in. "Come on. We don't want anybody seeing you."

"How did you know my mother?" I ask Amstaff.

Kendric and I sit on the sofa while he takes the armchair, letting out a dry cough every once in a while. Smoker's lungs, by the sound of it.

"I met her when she was still working for The Globe, long before she won that Peabody for her investigative pieces," Amstaff says. "That girl was a force to be reckoned with. Strong and curious, resilient and determined. Once she caught the scent of something, that was it. There would be no stopping Rose Parker until she got to the truth."

"Her investigative reports put a lot of people away," I say, smiling slightly. "Yeah, my dad told me. I've read all of them, too. He kept copies of every publication."

Amstaff gives me a hard look. "Don't even mention his name in this house. That fucker destroyed my career. I ended up on desk duty, languishing away in a swivel chair until my pension came through."

"I don't understand."

Kendric takes a deep breath, calmly placing his hand on my jittery knee. "Detective Amstaff was in charge of investigating your mother's death."

"It was an accident," I say, confused. "Some fault of the braking system. I thought the insurance company investigated that."

"She was murdered, Miss David," Amstaff says matter-of-factly.

It may not be the first time today that I feel a pound of lead swelling in the pit of my stomach, but this one feels worse than the last. "What are you talking about?"

"Your father and his Black Hand buddies covered it up. They went to great lengths to discredit me, to stop me from doing my job. Some mook from the insurance company was brought in to ‘investigate,' just like you said. It wasn't an accident, Miss David. Those brakes were tampered with, and I have the report to prove it."

"Show her," Kendric replies.

Cursing under his breath, Amstaff gets up and walks over to a credenza on the other side of the room. Using a small key, he opens one of the doors and takes out a thick folder from the bottom shelf. He sets it on the coffee table, giving me a few minutes to peruse it.

"I had an out-of-state expert come in when I noticed my captain trying to get me to close the case quickly," Amstaff says. "People were lookingover my shoulder. Calls were coming in from David's office. There were shady fuckers following me at night. I got threatening calls, too. They were determined to shut me up, so I knew something was going on here that they didn't want me meddling with."

"Her brakes were sabotaged?" I whisper, tears stinging my eyes again.

He nods once. "I kept a copy of the engineer's report before I submitted the original. It vanished from the file altogether. By the time I tried taking my case to the ADA, I was told to mind my own business and close it. It was an accident, they insisted, and if I tried pressing forward with it, they'd nuke my career. I was close to retirement at the time. After all the years I'd put in, honestly, I was scared. I know what the Black Hand is capable of."

"How?" I ask.

"Because it wasn't the first time I ran into them. And cutting brakes on cars is one of their favorite methods of silencing those who pose a threat to them," Amstaff replies. "They did it to my car as well. You have no idea how powerful they are, how intimidating they can be, how deep they can reach. The mayor. The ADA. This whole district is under their thumb, Miss David."

I keep staring at the file. "Where did you get all this?"

"I knew I couldn't fight them out in the open, so I made copies of every case file where I suspected Black Hand involvement," Amstaff says, pointing back at the credenza. "That whole thing is filled with them."

"Why aren't you going public with everything?" I ask.

"Because they have ways of silencing me," he says, lowering his gaze. "They've found ways to get to me. My son has been battling leukemia for years now. One minute, he's in remission; the next, he's back in chemo. That's a lot of money. I accepted their help, and it has cost me everything. My pension alone would've never been enough to keep him in all those experimental programs that have bought him ten more years and still counting."

I give Kendric a horrified look. "This is insane."

"It's how they operate, Ariana," Kendric replies with a heavy sigh. "They find weak points and exploit them. Once they have you hooked or demonstrably on their payroll, you become their slave. Any opposition leads to destruction. And they do it on every level—from rookies on the police force all the way up to state senators."

"Why did they want my mother dead?"

Amstaff raises an eyebrow. "Why do you think?"

My mind isn't that slow, regardless of the constant shocks that it's been getting pummeled with over the past couple of days. I'm putting the pieces together, and the truth is looking uglier with each new connection made across the board. My lips move, the words slipping past before I can even register them. "My mother was writing about them."

"And she was on to something," Amstaff says. "I never got close enough to her laptop or any of her belongings to dig through. My guess is your father kept everything."

"Why would he keep everything?" Kendric asks, his brow furrowed. "Chances are, whatever she uncovered, it could eventually implicate him, too."

"He'd want to hold on to it," I mumble. "Just in case the Black Hand got too bold or too brazen with him personally. To save his own ass, I guess. Maybe guilt, too. Oh, God, if what you're saying is true, it means my father knows that my mother, his wife, the mother of his child, the woman he loved most in this world—"

"Was killed in cold blood, yes," Amstaff concludes. "I'm deeply sorry, Miss David."

"Ariana, you need to understand something. Detective Amstaff put his career in jeopardy the minute he decided to pursue this case well beyond what his superiors insisted that he stick to," Kendric says. "He investigated, he produced that report, he put it in the case file and then submitted it forward to the ADA, who made the report disappear. The whole thing was carefully orchestrated and organized so that no one would ever question the conclusions. Using Amstaff's son against him was their last resort."

"I tried, you know," Amstaff says, his voice trembling with remorse. "I did try. I sent the scoop over to other colleagues of Rose's. Other publications. Even the Feds. No one would touch it. I tried to keep my name out of it, but they still figured me out. Shaun almost lost his place in a drug trial about three years ago because of my stubbornness."

"Because of your moral compass," I correct. "You were just trying to do the right thing. I will never blame you for any of this. You did the best you could in some rather shady circumstances. And your son, I can't even imagine the strength it took for you to keep quiet about this."

Amstaff shakes his head. "Not so quiet anymore," he says, pushing the whole file closer. "Take it. Use it. My son's cancer is back again."

"Oh, but—"

"It's too late for him," he says, tears flooding his eyes. He rubs his face with his bare hands. "The previous drug trials, the chemo, it left him weak. His immune system is shot. He takes a shoebox's worth of pills and supplements every day just to be able to put one foot in front of the other, Miss David. He doesn't want to fight anymore, and I intend to spend whatever time he's got left on this earth looking after him. But I can't look away from the truth. I'm done hiding."

"Amstaff knows about what we're doing," Kendric tells me. "We're the ones who reached out to him about a year ago. We were digging into your father's past."

"Once I understood that I could trust these fellas, I knew it was time to do my part," the old detective adds. "A few years too late, but hey, better late than never."

"Thank you for this," I say, taking the file. I hold it close to my chest, trying to breathe in and out without getting dizzy. "It won't be wasted, I promise."

Kendric gives me a long look and then tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. His touch alone is enough to soothe my frayed nerves, albeit briefly. "It will only get uglier from here. Even with this file and with Amstaff's blessing, we still don't have enough for a conviction against anyone in the organization. Everything can be spun as circumstantial during the trial," he says.

"Go home," Amstaff tells me.

"What?" I ask. "I can't."

"I heard about the Fed," he replies. "You need to find a way. If you're right, if I'm right, and Henry David kept your mother's investigative notes and whatever else she uncovered for her article, then you'll need all of that to nail those fuckers. You can't go ahead without it. They're crafty, Miss David. They have key players in their pockets, judges and government officials included."

"State level," Kendric reminds him.

"But powerful enough to throw wrenches into everything that you try to do," Amstaff shoots back. "Look at yourself. Running around, hiding. You almost lost Miss David here, and the whole police force is scouring the city and its surrounding areas, leaving no stone unturned until they find you. The clubhouse is off-limits. You've got club members in jail. I read the news, Kendric."

"We knew this was coming," he insists.

"Yeah, you told me. And what did I tell you?"

Kendric exhales sharply, a muscle ticking angrily in his jaw. "When they go low, we go lower. It's the only way that we're going to get them."

"What does that mean?" I ask them.

"It means we'll have to find a way to break into your home," Kendric shoots back, giving me a wary look, topping it off with the sweetest, most awkward half-smile.

It all sounds crazy.

But the mere thought that my father knew anything about my mother's death not being an accident makes my blood boil, filling me with the kind of unquenchable fury that only the truth can soothe.

I have to find out what really happened and how deeply my father is involved.