“I know, but I did. Now go back to sleep,” he ordered and she did.
***
The second time Matty woke up that day, she felt like she’d been hit by a freight train—but in a weirdly good way. In the way a person feels after their body has spent a few hours shivering and tensing its muscles in the fit of a fever then, once the fever has passed, the tired, sore muscles have relaxed. In other words, she felt like her body had run a marathon while she’d been sleeping.
Stretching out under the covers, she noted that her chest still felt a little tight, but she knew her fever was gone. She also knew that Dash was gone. Glancing over at his side of the bed, she frowned. His jeans and white undershirt were gone, but his socks and a button-down work shirt were still draped on the chair beside the bed.
Stretching again, she rolled out of bed and tentatively placed her feet on the floor. Taking heart from the fact that she neither burst into a renewed bout of shakes nor started coughing, she stood, found one of Dash’s oversized t-shirts, and slid it on.
Moving slowly, like she would the day after a good workout, she made her way downstairs. Dash was outside, phone to his ear, engaged in what looked like a serious conversation. Matty stood in the doorway and took a moment to acknowledge just how easy on the eyes Dashiell Kent was, especially standing there in his jeans with his bare feet braced apart, emphasizing his lean frame. Of course she’d noticed his looks when they first met, it was impossible not to. But since then, she’d grown to know him and, yes, his aesthetic was still extremely appealing, but now when she looked at him, she saw so much more.
He swung around when he ended his call, as if sensing her presence. His eyes swept over her and she let out a little smile.
“Like what you see?” Matty asked.
He grinned back and walked toward her. “I could say the same to you. You were ogling my butt, weren’t you?” He wrapped his arms around her as she looked up to meet his eyes.
“That and other parts,” she said.
He ran a hand over her face, his expression going from fun to serious in a heartbeat. “Feeling better?”
“I feel like I just did a two hour workout in my sleep, but my fever is gone and I don’t feel quite as tired.”
“Your cough? You weren’t sounding so good.”
“Chest still feels tight, but I think a good night’s sleep might cure it. Is everything okay?” she asked, pulling away from Dash and moving toward the kitchen. “You looked awfully serious on that call.”
Following Matty, he put a teakettle on the stove for her as he chided, “You couldn’t even see my face, how did you know it was serious?”
And that’s when she knew it really was something; that the phone call had been important. She could see it in Dash’s eyes, in the way his easy-going comment didn’t quite reach them.
“It was in the way you stood, the line of your back,” she answered, moving toward him. “What was the call, Dash?” she asked, stopping a foot away. His eyes skittered away from her and her heart sank. It didn’t seem like he was trying to hide anything, but he looked like a man gathering strength to say something. Finally, he began.
“The FBI conducted their raid late this morning. That was Ian on the phone.”
Her breath caught in the back of her throat. “And?” she managed to say.
“And they are still combing through the evidence. They arrested nine men and the FBI is very happy with what they are finding.”
“But what about Ian? And Vivi? Did they find out anything about Brad?” After everything she’d realized last night, she knew that Brad had come to be important to her, even in his death; however, even she was surprised at the desperation in her voice. She wanted justice for her half brother, a man she hadn’t had the privilege of knowing in life, but who had given her so much in his death. The changes she’d experienced, the thoughts she’d allowed herself to have, were because of the people she’d met over the past few weeks, and though Brad was dead, she counted him among that group. Perhaps even, with the exception of Dash, the most important.
Dash took a deep breath. “They found surveillance photos of Brad in the office and on one of the computers. They also found a shotgun of the same caliber that killed him, though they haven’t had a chance to run ballistics yet. They also found his address written on the back of one of the pictures.”
“So it’s looking like they might find who did it?” she asked, hope clear in her voice.
Dash nodded. “It’s looking that way, but they don’t have any concrete evidence yet.”
“Like a confession or the matching ballistics?” she asked. He nodded again. “But it’s looking good?” she insisted.
He let out another deep breath. “Yeah,” he said wrapping his arms around her, “it’s looking good.”
She rested her head against his chest until the whistle on the teakettle sounded. In silence, she made herself a cup of tea, Dash’s presence solid and steady beside her. After steeping the leaves for a minute, she went to the sink and found herself staring out the window at the sweeping view in front of her. It was such a breathtaking place, she couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else. The intellectual side of her knew that in the winter it would be brutal. But it would still be beautiful and she was certain that she didn’t want to leave. And everything she’d experienced, every person she’d met, every field that took her breath away, was because of Brad. And most of all, there was Dash. She wouldn’t have met Dash if it weren’t for her half brother.
Standing there in Dash’s kitchen, a wave of something that felt like love for Brad washed over her. Blinking away a few tears, she realized she would never be able to thank him. Yes, she and Dash would figure out how to honor him, but she would never be truly able to say thank you.
But maybe she could say her own good-bye.
“Dash,” she said, turning toward him. His dark eyes met her gaze. “I want to say good-bye to Brad. And I don’t mean at the funeral in a few days. I want to go back to the house, back to the barn, and say good-bye.”
His eyes studied her face for a long moment. She thought he might point out that what she was saying was fanciful, but instead he inclined his head. “And you want to say thank you, don’t you?” he asked, seeing right into the heart of her.
She unsuccessfully blinked back a few more tears. Dash stayed where he was, letting her feel what she was feeling. She nodded and more tears flowed. Tears she didn’t even try to hold back or hide. “I have a lot to thank him for, Dash. Including you.”
He stepped forward and took her in his arms. “We both have a lot to thank him for,” Dash said, resting his cheek on her hair. “Of course we can go back to the house. Why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed, maybe take a few Tylenol in case your fever thinks about coming back, and then we can head over to the house. I can wait there while you go up to the barn.”
“You know I love you, right?” Matty asked, tightening her hold on Dash. For a moment he went still, then his arms pulled her closer to him.
“Yeah, I do. And I love you too.”
She smiled against his chest then pulled back. “Ten minutes?”
He lowered his head and dropped a kiss on her lips. “Anytime you’re ready. I’ll be here.”
And he would be, she knew. He would be there.
CHAPTER 28
IT TOOK MATTY QUITE A WHILE to make it back up to the barn where she’d found Brad all those days ago. Between the tightness in her chest and the reason for her going in the first place, her feet were not moving very quickly.
She paused and turned to take in the view behind her. It was the time of day she liked to call the magic hour. About an hour before dusk, just as the sun was starting to go down behind the hills to the west, the hills to the east were cast in light that varied from gold to pink. Tonight they were most definitely gold, and she took a moment to appreciate their beauty. She didn’t know what she would do with her house or life in DC, but she knew she wanted to be here, in Windsor, wa
tching the magic hour as much as possible.
When the light started to change, she turned and continued making her way to her destination. When the barn came into view, she realized that it looked almost exactly as it had that first time. It seemed to her that a lot should be different because so much had happened there, but aside from the tire tracks from the police and crime scene vehicles, it looked just the same.
She slid the door open and stepped inside, blinking at the darkness. Standing there in the doorway, she let her eyes adjust to the dim light then started to take in the scene.
There was no body, no chair, no flies, nothing. It was all but empty with a few bales of hay at the far end. It no longer smelled as it had when she’d found Brad; instead, the scent of the sweet alfalfa mixed with dirt greeted her. It wasn’t a clean smell, but it was earthy and appropriate, and Matty thought Brad would be glad to see this place back as it should be.
She walked farther into the barn, toward where the chair had been, and stood, absorbing the silence. She inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly. She had so much to thank Brad for that for a long moment she just stilled her mind and body and let herself feel. Sorrow for what she and Brad had lost because of their parents, happiness at having been brought to Windsor, and gratitude for what Brad had taught her and was continuing to teach her about engaging in life, about strength, and about character.
A ray of sun shot through one of the west-facing windows and the light danced in front of her, making her smile. She was watching the dust float about when a figure appeared at the door.
Startled, she took a few steps backward.
“Mai?” Matty said. She knew the confusion in her voice probably wasn’t that courteous, but she was surprised to see Chen’s sister there. Surprised Dash had told Mai where to find her.
“Matty,” she said, her voice sounding different than it had in the past, less cultured, less smooth. Less let’s-be-great-girlfriends.
“Is everything alright?” Matty asked as Mai came toward her.
“That depends,” came the answer.
Matty frowned again as the little warning bells inside her mind started going off. “On?” she said after a slight hesitation.
“On what you can tell me about what Brad was up to before he died,” Mai answered, as she pulled a gun from the pocket of her blazer.
CHAPTER 29
MATTY STARED AT THE GUN, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in. Or at least what she knew of it. She was still horribly confused. Though what she did know—that Mai was there, with a gun, thinking that Matty knew more than she did about Brad—didn’t make much sense.
“What are you talking about, Mai?” Matty tried to inch her way to the door, taking small steps as she spoke. But Mai, pointing the gun, effectively halted her progress.
“Your brother was looking into things he should have left alone. I know he uncovered some of the activities happening around the horses and tracks, I want to know what else he found,” Mai responded.
“How would I know what he was looking into?” she asked, saying the first thing that came to mind because she hadn’t quite processed the rest.
Mai sighed. “The raid, Matty. There was a raid this morning on the offices of several known members of the Irish Mafia.”
“You’re not part of the Irish Mafia,” Matty pointed out.
“Of course not,” Mai said, disgust echoing in her tone.
Matty eyed the door. “Then just what do you want to know and why do you think I would be able to help you?” She wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of this, or even if she was, but she wasn’t going to go without a fight. That said, looking in Mai’s eyes, Matty recognized something she hadn’t seen in a long time: the hollow, empty look of a sociopath who neither cared nor valued the life of anyone other than herself.
It was a reminder of everything she had left behind when she’d moved out of the projects. Oh, Mai was dressed better, had more sophisticated mannerisms, but she was no different than those that ruled the neighborhoods, that terrorized the people where Matty had grown up. And Matty knew, without the slightest doubt, the other woman had no intention of letting her live. Even if she didn’t know anything about Brad and what he might have found out, Mai would kill her; and if she did know something, Mai would simply wait to hear it and then kill her anyway.
She could fake it to buy herself some time; she knew she could. But only if she knew what kind of information Mai was looking for—what Mai thought she might know. If she could figure that out, or maybe keep Mai talking and occupied, she might, just might, be able to find herself a way out.
“What did he tell you?” Mai asked.
“About?” Matty countered.
“About what he was looking into. About my business arrangements.”
“Your business arrangements?”
“Matty, don’t play dumb, it doesn’t become you,” Mai said on a sigh.
Matty blinked. Okay, maybe figuring out what information Mai wanted from her wasn’t going to work because she had no idea where to start. Maybe she should just focus on the getting-her-to-talk plan.
“You’re right, it doesn’t. It doesn’t generally become anyone. But in this case, I actually don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. What makes you think Brad was looking into your business arrangements and why I would know about it?”
“Your brother talked about you all the time, you know,” Mai said, taking a step toward her in designer boots that, for some reason, seemed to stand out to Matty, even as she took one step back and moved little to her left. She was precisely three inches closer to the door now.
“He was always amazed at the life you led, at your success. Pleased, I might add. He used to say you deserved it after the hell your father, his father, put you through. I think he admired you greatly.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Matty said. At least that was the truth. It might not have been mutual before, but she did feel all those things for him now.
“Be that as it may, I know you two never spoke. I know he tried to contact you a handful of times. I know you never responded. I know your estrangement caused him great pain and it was something he thought about often. I also know he felt guilty for what his parents did to you.”
Matty wasn’t sure what to make of this long statement, or even what seemed to be the hint of jealousy she heard in Mai’s tone. She knew the facts were accurate—that Brad had tried to call and contact her, but she had never reciprocated. And as for the rest, she couldn’t attest to what Brad had been feeling, so she simply nodded at Mai and began to wonder if Mai and Brad had, at one point, been more than friends.
“So you can imagine my surprise,” Mai continued, “when suddenly you agreed to come up and house-sit for him.”
“I was surprised myself,” Matty interrupted.
“On the same day someone hacked into one of my computers that contained private records,” Mai finished.
Matty’s brows shot down. She still wasn’t sure what Mai was trying to say, but she was starting to understand that it was more likely than not that Brad had stumbled onto something other than just information on the Irish. Whether Brad knew it or not was unclear.
“So, you think Brad accessed some of your files—files that contained information he shared with me—and that I came up to Windsor to, what? Help him plan what to do with it? Use it against you?”
Mai tilted her elegant head and studied her for a long moment. “He skimmed money from the accounts.”
“And it was the lure of that money that brought me up here? You think I came because he was able to entice me with money?” Matty asked the question, but it was so absurd she could hardly wrap her mind around it. She didn’t need money. And not that she could be bribed, but if even if Brad had wanted to try, he wouldn’t have chosen money as the incentive.
“A lot of money went missing, Matty,” Mai said.
“I have a lot of money, Mai. I don’t need any of yours, and I especially d
on’t need to do anything illegal to get more,” Matty shot back, even as she realized that, based on what Mai had just said, Brad must have known something if he’d taken the time to steal her money. If what Charlotte had told them yesterday was anything to go by, Brad only took money from people who earned it in illegal and harmful ways. But whether Brad knew it was Mai’s money, or if he thought it was just part of the Mafia’s money, wasn’t clear. However, since it was Brad who had put her in touch with Chen, who had then brought Mai into her life, she was leaning toward Brad not having had any idea about the Zheng family. And as her mind raced, Matty gave a fleeting thought to Chen—was he involved, too? Did he have any idea his sister was here?
“Brad didn’t know it was yours,” Matty said. “Not that it would have mattered, because even if he had known you were a criminal, and I assume you are, given what you’re doing and saying here, he still would have turned you in. Like he did with the Irish.” Of that she was certain.
“He knew in the end,” Mai said.
Matty’s blood ran cold. She knew a confession when she heard one. “You killed Brad,” she said.
Mai lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t kill him. But we did what we needed to do to protect our assets.”
“And who does ‘we’ refer to?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
Again, a shoulder came up. “The Irish have their little gang and the businesses they run, my family has a much more enterprising approach.”
Again, Matty found herself blinking at the onslaught of information flowing at her. Of course she knew that there was organized crime in the US. And she even knew that Chinese gangs—families—were a growing concern to not just law enforcement, but other cartels as well. It had just never occurred to her that the family of a respected professor from one of America’s top universities might be involved. And it made her feel like a naïve child.
“I see,” she said quietly. The more she knew—the more she learned—the more of a liability she became and she already knew far too much. Any hope she had of getting out of this situation alive was rapidly dwindling.
These Sorrows We See Page 37
