by Nana Malone
She was at her desk, dark brows drawn down in consternation. When we barged in, she took one look at me then turned to East. "What the fuck did you do to her this time?"
East opened his mouth as if he was going to argue. But then he shut it. When he found his voice, it was soft. "Luckily, this time, it wasn't me that hurt her."
Amelia pushed to her feet. "What's going on?"
"Denning Sinclair's fiancée, Hazel Frost, is not Hazel Frost. Her name is Krista Wilson."
Amelia's eyes went wide, and she played mental ping-pong with both of us, trying to face me, then him, then back to me. "Oh my God, the prints we found. They belong to Krista Wilson."
I sighed. "We’ve had drinks with her, and she killed that poor man."
East pulled out a chair for me to sit. But I wasn't sitting down. "I want her head on this."
Amelia turned to East. "How did you find out it was her?"
"Facial recognition. I was doing a search for Garreth Jameson and known associates of the Wilson Crew because they went to school at the same time and the same place. And since we know Walter Jameson is Henry Warlow, I wondered how much he talked about his past, who he was, and just what he'd done. Warlow is a thief. But not just a thief, he was an excellent forger. I double-checked if there had been anyone at the university good enough to forge a master. I found a scandal involving Marc Wilson and his friend Riley Mills. Marc had a sister, and that's how I found her.
She winced. “Fucking hell.”
East continued. "Also, the other day while we were tailing Garreth, he met with her."
Amelia looked like her head was going to pop off. "What? And you thought to just tell us now?"
"It seemed irrelevant. I thought they were just having some clandestine shagfest. I had no idea it was something like this. And I would have mentioned it, but we got so caught up in everything else it just slipped my mind."
Amelia ran her hands over her face. "Oh my fucking God. I swear to God, when these cases are over, I need a vacation."
"Well, if I'm lucky, you'll get one and give Nyla a break." East said.
Amelia tossed a pad of paper at him. "Write down exactly what photo you were searching for."
He took the pad and jotted down his notes. As he wrote, his phone started going off. He glowered down at it. “I’ll be right back."
While he marched out in his characteristic take-charge fashion, I turned my attention to Amelia, who was picking up her phone. "What are you doing?"
"We have to warn Denning." Her gaze met mine. "Well, we need to warn Denning and your father, because God knows what information Denning has given her and not even realized it. In the meantime, I have to make the search look legit because we can't say one of the London Lords gave it to us. Remember, those people who we were trying to investigate that one time?"
East marched back in and gave her a bemused smirk. "Well, now we're friends."
She held up a hand. "Whoa, friends is a very loose term. I'm only allowing you here because you're with her."
He chuckled. "Look, I'll grow on you. Like a fungus."
"Nyla, I swear to God, I feel like I’m going to regret this."
East chuckled. “I'll have you know that I am a fine specimen."
Amelia rolled her eyes. "So you keep telling us."
Another few quick taps and she had her program running the legal way. "Jesus, hopefully this works, because otherwise, we've got nothing. And she’s bound to know we know who she is now. She’s going to go to ground."
East frowned. "I found her once. I can find her again."
Amelia nodded. "I know. You are, annoyingly, that good. But right now, I’m in the unenviable position of trying to make it look like viable evidence. I can't just storm into the boss’s office and be like, 'One of my new mates told me.’ Get it?"
"Fine, fair enough."
Finally, she had what she needed. "Come on, Ny, let’s get this to your father." She slid a glance to East. "Thank you for this. But we have to do this on our own."
Amelia didn't even bother calling my father first. She just started marching, and I had to follow behind. She had two pieces of paper with her.
She knew my father well. A lot of talking would make his eyes glaze over. But if you put the facts in front of him and stood back, he'd let them sink in. And then he would absorb the information the way he liked to. He was often in your corner.
It was our lucky day. Dad was in there with Denning. They both looked up at the interruption, Denning, furious, my father more curious. "What's the matter?" he asked.
Amelia licked her lips and then went around to my Dad, not to Denning.
"Sir, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this. It’s a matter of urgency."
Denning held out his hand for the papers she held. She ignored him and put them in front of my father.
"Sir, I was running a search on known associates of the Wilson crew, as our murder victim was associated with them. That photo right there, that is Lord Jameson's son, Garreth Jameson. Right next to him is a woman called Krista Wilson. If you look closer, you'll realize that you know her.”
My father leaned closer to the photo and realized what Amelia meant. Then he sat back. "Jesus fucking Christ." His gaze snapped to Denning.
Denning stood up and grabbed the photo. "What the hell are you on about?"
I could see the moment he understood what he was dealing with. It was as if the tension rolled off of him, making his body slump like jelly. "No, this is a lie. It's doctored."
My father shook his head. "Are you trying to tell me now that my agents are lying and making up stories?"
"No, but that's not her. That can't be her."
I just stood, stoically, gaze trained at my father. I stepped forward. "Denning… Agent Sinclair," I corrected. "This is difficult, I'm sure, but we need to know how much access she's had to confidential information. What have you taken home?"
Denning whirled on me. "Nothing, you bitch."
And for the first time in my professional career, I heard my father yell in my defense. "That is enough!"
My eyes went wide, and I took a step back. Amelia did not move. Denning whirled back to my father. "This is her. She's making it all up. She doctored the photos. She's jealous of her, even though Hazel has been nothing but nice to her."
I stepped forward again. "I also believe that she's been stalking me. There have been several instances where she just happened to be around my apartment. The day after I got shot, she was there in the hospital too."
Denning tried to defend her. "She was checking on you. Per my request."
"She was there with you, and none of you were allowed in my room, but somehow Hazel made it in. And there have been a couple of occasions when she just whirled her way into my group of friends. I told you someone was watching me, Dad."
Denning turned to my father. "Don't let her do this. Do not let her do this thing."
My father stared at Denning. "How long have you been taking files home?"
All the color in Denning's face bleached out, leaving a pale husk of himself. He just kept shaking his head. "It's not possible."
Amelia started to move then, tucking her hair behind her ears as she spoke. "Sir, we need to know what she might know. So if there are cases he's taken home or discussed with her, we need to know."
I thought this would be sweeter. I thought that when I finally had vindication, I would be happier.
And I was happy. But oddly, I also felt bad for him because he thought he'd found someone who loved him. Someone who wanted to be with him, and then he had the rug pulled out from under him. I was able to feel some compassion. On the other hand, there was a part of me that wanted to say, 'Yeah, loser. Yeah, you wanking twat. You did this to yourself.'
My father was furious. He turned to Amelia and me. "Good work, the both of you. Agent Sinclair and I have a lot to discuss."
I scuttled out, and Amelia followed me at a calm, leisurely pace. But with the door firmly
closed behind us, she grabbed my arm. "Holy shit."
"I know. That was so fucking worth it."
"Yes, yes it was. Tonight, we drink."
There was still so much that hung in the balance. We needed more proof to bury Jameson. But we would get it with the whole team pitching in. And once we did, he’d be going away for a long time.
And now all you have to do is tell Theroux.
East
I was slipping. That was the only explanation for any of this. Because when I left for my 2:00 p.m. meeting in the South Bank, I found the old man waiting for me downstairs in the hotel.
As if the son of a bitch knew my schedule. How could he?
He stood when he saw me, and he had a bag in his hand.
I asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Relax. I'm not here to interrupt your day or cause any problems. I just have something for your sister. I'm hoping you could send it for me."
I blinked at him, then blinked down at the bag. "You have something for AJ, but instead of sending it yourself or, you know, having Mum do the dirty work, you're making it a point that I should be the one to do it?"
He shifted on his feet, looking vastly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Your mother suggested that I bring it to you so we can start reconciliation."
I laughed. "I don't think Mum would have said the word reconciliation. Also, I already told you, I'm not the one you should talk to. If you can't call up your daughter and mutter the fucking words 'I'm sorry,’ no presents you send her will do the trick."
He glanced down at the bag. "It's for the baby."
I grinned then. "Oh yes, by all means. The baby that's being had by your estranged daughter’s wife. Um-hm, yup, that baby. You can't even say grandchild. You recognize that the baby has Hale blood, right? Margaux is just the one carrying it."
His eyes went wide. "I—" He cleared his throat. "That doesn't make any difference."
"No. I don't imagine it would. She'd still be a bastard anyway as far as you’re concerned. I don't have time for that. Again, if you want something to change, something real, then fucking do it yourself. I'm tired of this. I have a meeting."
I shifted around him to head out, and he followed and quickly closed the gap. "You're the one who can't forgive and forget."
I whirled on him then, knowing that I really needed to stop having these conversations with him in my fucking hotel. "You piece of shit. Okay, if we’re doing this, then I don't know how you can let it go. You know Garreth Jameson very likely raped your daughter, right?"
The old man paled. "I—I— I know no such thing. How can you be so hateful?"
"You sent him to her. ‘Don't take no for an answer’ you said. The same bullshit you used to feed me."
"He's a refined young man. He would never."
"You're shitting me, right, Dad? He would never? Have you forgotten that many of our members were involved in a human trafficking scandal? Do you really want to tell me the members of the Elite would never?"
He grew even paler. "That cannot be—" He shook his head. "We know his family."
"Oh my God. Do you hear yourself? That piece of shit hurt your daughter, and you're making excuses for him. This is why you and I don't speak. AJ tried to talk to you. She tried to tell you. She was so torn up, and you were just so caught up in her not being exactly what you wanted. You kept trying to throw them together still after that point. That's why she left. Well, that and because you disowned her because she couldn't be your perfect idea of a daughter."
"You think I don't approve of her?"
"I don't care. You owe her. Not me. Not your grandkid. But if AJ and Margaux are smart, they’ll keep you away from that poor baby. But again, I'm not the one you owe the apology to. I don't think there's enough apologies in the world, frankly. But again, that’s not my call. It’s AJ’s. In the meantime, don't approach me again until you've done what I asked. Until then, we barely know each other. Got it?"
"Oh, you are really full of demands, aren't you?"
"If by that you mean I don't fucking need you anymore, you're right. I don't. Our whole lives, you controlled everything. Except Mum. Somehow you couldn't control her because you knew that even though you came with a title, she had the Du Mont name. Without that name, you were just a joke. I really should look and see if I can change my surname. I would rather not be associated with you."
"Don't you dare."
"Old man, you can't stop me. Do what I told you to do. And on the way to that, try being a decent human being. If you can manage that, we can talk. But until you do, we don't have anything to say to each other. Please spare me the time, because these talks of ours, they're becoming trite."
I left him in the lobby and then texted my sister as I made my way to the awaiting town car.
East: Heads up, the old man is hell bent on some kind of reconciliation of some sort. Clearly, I told him where he can go with that. But he has something for the baby. Will you tell him to go fuck himself?"
AJ: …
AJ: What the fuck?
I sighed.
East: Yeah. I'm very confused by the development too. Maybe he's dying. We should be so lucky.
AJ: East, stop it. Why? Do you think he's dying?
East: Here's hoping.
AJ: SMH
East: