Go Full Circle (A Go Novel Book 5)

by Scarlett Finn

  Rupert’s eyebrows moved. “Yes, it’s something you do well.”

  It was nice that they could laugh and tease. There had been a time she’d feared they’d never get their rapport back.

  “So…” she said, opening her bag to take out the slip of paper she’d swiped from Ophelia’s office. “I was wondering if you could help me out.”

  “Oh,” he said, closing the drawer and pulling himself against the desk again. Holding the receipt toward him, Harlow noted the curiosity in his frown. He took it and began to read. “Where did you get this?”

  “From a friend,” she said. “I was hoping you could help me, you know, figure it out.”

  He sighed. “I can’t discuss clients’ accounts with you, Harlow. I can’t discuss them with anyone who doesn’t have authorization.”

  Rupert was by the book. He was unlikely to change his mind on following the rules, where work was concerned anyway. At home, in his personal life, when it came to sex, she’d learned he was a little more flexible.

  “I know that… Maybe we could talk in broad terms…” Her hopeful smile was greeted by his slow head tilt. “You know… you could tell me, in a general way, what those numbers mean…”

  “Yes,” he said, putting down the receipt and turning his computer screen away from her before beginning to type. “But you knew Jarvis Hagan.”

  His name was on the receipt, so it wasn’t a breach to tell her something she already had access to.

  “He’s dead.”

  Rupert shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. His confidentiality remains intact. I don’t know why you would have—”

  The abrupt stop triggered her curiosity. As Rupert’s eyes moved across the screen he’d averted from her gaze, his frown of concentration became more intense.

  “Rupert, what is it?”

  Putting a hand on the screen, he pushed it toward her. Harlow slid to the front of her seat and looked at him then the screen and back. “There is only one person authorized on this account and it isn’t the deceased.” Rupert pointed to a line on the report she was looking at. “It’s you.”

  Her name was there, on the screen. She had full authority. Sinking against the back of her chair, Harlow tried to figure out his game, and why she’d be authorized on anything bearing the Hagan name.

  After trying to figure it out for a minute, she looked up. “Is his sister on there?”

  Rupert shook his head. “Only you. Jarvis Hagan paid for it, but he didn’t even give himself authority on it.”

  “Okay,” she said, grabbing the arms of her chair to push herself up. The bag on her lap got in her way, so she shoved it onto the floor. “So, what is it? Money? Savings? Stocks?”

  All the businesses and assets had been left to Ophelia; there had been no equivocation on that. Keeping his own name off whatever it was could’ve been Hagan’s way of keeping his sister’s hands off the account. If his name had been on it, Ophelia might have a right to challenge Harlow’s authority in court.

  She couldn’t begin to figure out why Hagan would want to leave anything to her or why he’d been so sneaky about it.

  “No,” he said. “It’s a safe deposit box.”

  Oh, that was intriguing. Resting her elbows on the arms of the chair, Harlow steepled her fingers over her mouth. “Why would…” She didn’t want to say too much in front of Rupert. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

  “I didn’t know anything about it. I don’t deal with safe deposit boxes. It must have been one of the front office clerks. I imagine they thought you were aware of it… You weren’t aware of it?”

  Rupert knew her well enough that lying would be pointless, so she shook her head. “No… Why is it still there if he’s dead?”

  “For all intents and purposes, it’s your box. He paid for five years up front. You would never have learned about it until the lease was up for renewal.”

  The last thing she’d expected to find on coming to SweSec was a message from beyond. Whatever was in the box was illegal or incriminating. Hagan could be trying to set her up. Though, if that was the case, it would seem ridiculous to use her own father’s company when it could be proved who set up the box and who paid for it.

  “Would you like to see it?” Rupert asked.

  Harlow didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, staring into nothing. It had probably been a while. Rupert knew to give her space to process. Anyone who didn’t know her might just think she’d lost her mind.

  “Yes,” she said, bouncing to the edge of her chair and grabbing up her bag from the floor. “Can I see it?”

  They left his office to go down an internal corridor to a room that Rupert needed a bunch of keys and codes to enter. After putting her in a private room with a table and a chair, Rupert left her alone only to return a minute later with a long shallow silver box.

  “We have a spare key here,” he said. “It was left with the account.”

  Putting it in the lock, he turned it. Just as he was about to lift the lid, she put a hand over his. “May I?”

  Her request took him aback, rather stopping him probably did. Harlow hadn’t intended to hurt him, but she had no idea what would be in the box. While she would trust Ryske to handle whatever it was, she didn’t know what questions it may raise with Rupert.

  There was also a chance this box could blow up in her face. Literally. If there was a chance of anyone getting hurt, she didn’t want Rupert anywhere near it.

  “Of course,” he said and backed off, clearing his throat. “You know where I am if you need me.”

  He left and closed the door.

  On a deep breath, Harlow sank into the chair and took a quiet minute to look at the box on the table.

  Hagan had been a difficult guy to read. Sometimes he’d implied he wanted to hurt her. Though he hadn’t when he’d had her imprisoned. Not violently, but the imprisonment was an assault in itself. After that, things had gotten physical between them. Blinded by his hatred for the man she loved, Hagan had attacked her. Yet, just before the end of his life, he’d revealed so much and spoken of their affinity.

  One of her most vivid memories of him came at the end. Before his death, he’d said she had to be warned. He hadn’t had a chance to explain what he meant.

  Maybe this was it. Maybe this box was his warning. It was possible he’d intended to tell her about the box that night. Ophelia had killed him before he’d been able to finish his sentence.

  Once, a fleeting thought about how Hagan might get in touch with her from beyond the grave had flitted across Harlow’s mind. But it had been such an insane thought that she’d dismissed it.

  But this was it. This was him reaching out. She just didn’t know what the message would be.

  The truth wouldn’t come to her on its own. She had to do something. Holding her breath, she opened the lid with her fingertips, raising it up and guiding it down on its hinge until it was fully open.

  The box was full. The first thing she noticed were the bundles of cash at the back of the box. The total was a mystery, but the bundles were stacked from top to bottom with a few more sliding around on what appeared to be a stack of files.

  The money wasn’t the first thing she touched. Her fingers were drawn to the velvet box that was on top, nestled amongst the loose money bundles. Popping it open to see what was inside, she gasped at the sight of a gorgeous solitaire ring. Slipping it out of its cushion, she wondered who the ring belonged to or if maybe it was a Hagan heirloom.

  The band and setting looked to be custom. It was beautiful. Turning it in the light she spotted an engraving inside, “To my darling Anwen, forever.” Anwen’s engagement ring. It must have been returned to him after her death.

  Putting the ring back in its box, it suddenly felt disrespectful that she’d touched it. Setting it aside on the table, Harlow pushed the money out of the way and lifted the files.

  There were various folders. The top one contained Ophelia’s school records from her ear
ly years before she was pulled and home schooled. It overflowed with reports of erratic and violent behavior that went all the way back to kindergarten. Notes of obsessive behavior, attacking teachers, stealing from the class and other kids, Ophelia had been out of control.

  The next file was a juvenile record that Harlow probably shouldn’t even be allowed to see. It held more reports of violence, indecent behavior, vandalism. It seemed to be kid stuff; there wasn’t anything serious. But it did betray how Ophelia had liked hurting those weaker than her and breaking things that didn’t belong to her.

  There was a report at the back that piqued Harlow’s interest further; an unsubstantiated report that Ophelia was responsible for a fire at a home. No one was hurt and she wasn’t charged, but she had been a person of interest. After reading those documents, Harlow wasn’t sure what to think but kept on exploring.

  The third file was the thickest and gave her the most clarity. There were pages and pages of psychologist notes as well as lists of doctors’ visits and procedures and medication.

  Other than understanding that Ophelia had seen a lot of doctors, she didn’t fully understand what conclusions had been reached about what was wrong with her.

  Feeling lucky that she knew a doctor she could trust, Harlow resolved to talk to him about the medical mumbo-jumbo and moved onto the final file.

  Her mind was still wandering; she hadn’t been prepared for what was inside. The shocking pictures of charred bodies almost made her close the file straight away. The heading on the paper behind drew her in, it was a fire marshal’s report.

  The explosion was declared an accident. A leak in a gas line had caused the ignition of the blast that killed the Hagan parents. Apparently.

  Harlow was in shock.

  Jarvis and Ophelia’s parents were killed in a gas explosion. Was it an accident? Why was this file in with all the others?

  Absorbing everything she’d read was going to take time. Figuring out how all the pieces fit would take longer. Aware that she couldn’t stay for too long, she began to pull the bundles of money from the box. They would have to come out before she could return the files to their place. Everything fit inside almost exactly.

  It was only after the box was empty that she noticed one last thing she hadn’t investigated yet.

  26

  A USB stick.

  Picking it up, Harlow turned it over, looking for something identifying, something that might betray what was on it. The outside was blank. She was going to have to figure it out the old-fashioned way.

  The files and the money went back into the box. The engagement ring and the USB went into her bag.

  An attendant was standing on the other side of her private room door when she opened it. He helped her return the box to its rightful place in the vault and advised her to take good care of her key.

  The employee knew who she was, even though Harlow didn’t remember ever meeting him. But this was her family’s company. No doubt many people recognized her. She was infamous after all. Harlow was the Sweeting who’d gone to jail for murder.

  Her mind wasn’t exactly in the right place to be social or exchange pleasantries. Harlow thanked the attendant and left to go down the internal hallway alone. One way would take her to the front lobby behind the bullpen. The other led back around to the offices where she’d find Rupert. The latter was her goal.

  Returning to Rupert’s office, she interrupted his work by just walking in and striding to his desk. “Can I use a computer? A laptop? Anything that isn’t connected to the SweSec network?”

  “There’s a laptop in the lobby. We let customers use it if they have private business.” He stood up. “Let me go get it.”

  Harlow waited in Rupert’s office, pacing and clicking her thumbnail on her teeth. Pausing, she glanced at the phone on the desk and thought about calling Ryske. Would he have his cellphone? Probably not. She could call the bar. But no one would be able to make it over there before Rupert got back from the lobby. Harlow was too curious to wait.

  Rupert came back in with the laptop and handed it over to her. “I’m going to get some coffee down the block. You want anything?”

  His simple smile told her he wasn’t going because he wanted coffee; he was giving her privacy.

  “Thank you. That would be nice.”

  He nodded and left. They’d been together six years. It would’ve been an insult to give him her coffee order or tell him which pastry she liked.

  Once the door was closed and she was alone, Harlow ran to the table in the corner and pulled out a chair to sit down. Having a computer that wasn’t on the SweSec network was important. If there was a virus on the USB or it was a setup, she didn’t want to screw her dad’s firm.

  Settling herself, she turned on the computer and inserted the USB, anxious about what she’d find on it.

  “Maze, where are you when I need you,” she whispered to herself before opening the file directory and locating the drive.

  It contained one file. Just one. A video file.

  Her wish for Maze grew. She laid her hand across her body to touch his star on her arm, taking strength from him, wherever he was, before double clicking the file.

  It took a few seconds to load. A few tense, long seconds. When the first image popped onto the screen, she almost fell off her chair. It was of Jarvis Hagan, seated on the couch in his living room.

  At first, he said nothing and didn’t move, so she thought it might be a still. All of a sudden, the image sprang to life and he leaned back.

  Harlow wasn’t sure she was taking full breaths. For fear what she was seeing might disappear if she closed her eyes even for a second, she didn’t even blink.

  “Miss Sweeting,” Hagan said. The sound of his voice sent a chill down her spine. “I didn’t doubt you would find this, though I’m sure you’re wondering what lies ahead.”

  He smiled. The sight drew Harlow closer, she propped her elbows on the table, clasping both hands over her open mouth.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “Before you get your hopes up, I should tell you that I have no intention of admitting to any crime. You should know by now that I’m not that stupid. This also isn’t an apology. I am not sorry for anything that has occurred.”

  Maybe he would’ve been sorry, if he’d known how it would all turn out. “Our bond gives us an affinity.” He’d told her that on the night he died. “We understand the unique sensation that comes with the clash of love and hatred.”

  It was sad that he had never known his love wasn’t dead at all. Though it may not have comforted him to discover that she was a double crosser, a fake, and a cheat. In life, Jarvis had known Anwen was the last, yet he’d loved her anyway.

  Harlow had forgiven Ryske for faking his demise. Hagan may not have been so forgiving with Anwen. Especially if he learned she’d conspired with Ryske, a man Hagan already despised.

  Harlow paused the video. Watching it was going to be tough. Hagan wasn’t going to admit he had Ryske stabbed or shot. Figuring out exactly when the video was recorded wouldn’t be easy. The receipt’s date was in the period after Ryske’s resurrection, but before she and Hagan had met in Ophelia’s hallway and made plans for what would be their final meeting.

  Taking a deep breath, she reached for the computer. “What have you got for me, Hagan?”

  Pressing play, she brought him back to life, so to speak. Hagan was silent. Harlow just watched as he picked up a bottle of alcohol and a glass. If she wasn’t mistaken, it looked very like the bottle he’d drunk from on the night he died. Shirking her focus from the irrelevant, she shifted it onto him. Any clue could be important, she had to watch for them all.

  After Hagan took a drink, he spoke again. “I have a contempt for you that eclipses loathing. You adored a man I despised. I won’t ever accept how you could love him and yet, I understand it completely. Heaven knows, my Annie wasn’t perfect. She could anger me with a smile and arouse me with a tear… She had a way of playing
with me… to me…”

  His gaze drifted to the side; there was a moment of peace.

  “You did love her,” Harlow murmured.

  Even if it was in a sick or obsessive way, he did believe in his own feelings for his fiancée. The woman who he’d believed was stolen from him by Ryske.

  Inhaling through his nose, Hagan took another drink and looked into the camera. “Do you remember the day we met? You were so… intriguing. I think it’s fair to say that we both surprised each other that day. You never stopped surprising me. As loathed as I am to admit it, in the times you’re infuriating me, you arouse me, Miss Sweeting. I see what he sees in you…”

  His sinister, yet seductive, tone didn’t feel good. Harlow hit the keyboard to pause the recording. Being sleazed on wasn’t a new phenomenon for most women. That wasn’t what affected her. She was more worried about who else would have to endure hearing it.

  Rubbing a hand across her mouth, she leaned back. “I have to show this to him,” she whispered, hoping the rest of the recording wasn’t some sort of salacious love letter.

  If Hagan got his cock out, she’d have to make sure Ryske never, ever saw the video under any circumstances. If her love had to witness that, he’d find a way to kill Hagan again.

  Harlow could understand being driven to murder; once she’d considered taking Hagan out herself. Hagan didn’t have any real love for her. Like he’d said the night he died, he wanted to take Ryske’s dignity by taking her. Maybe he’d thought seduction was the way to do it.

  These breaks might be helping her process, but they were risky. She had to watch the whole video. Rupert would be back soon and she couldn’t kick him out of his office indefinitely.

  She hit play.

  “My affinity with you, perhaps clouded by my attraction to your body, has led me to make this video… and to give you this trust.

  “I fear you have entered an alliance which may lead to your demise. But you are not the only one to have done so.”

  Intrigued, Harlow leaned closer. “Keep going,” she said to the tape when Hagan paused to take a drink.