Aiden scanned the dead ground and the trees in the distance. What had this place looked like twenty years ago? Had there been green grass or livestock? Or had it always been patches of brown weeds, puddles of stagnant water, and muddy gravel that crunched underfoot as you walked on it?
Off to the left was another old building, a shed or barn, maybe? The paint—once a brick red—had long since given way to time, leaving the wood weathered and gray. There was a vintage Mercedes Benz sitting just outside that looked just as unkempt as the grounds and house. This man’s family must have really hated him to leave a car like that just lying around.
Lola waved from the front porch, a cup of coffee in her hand. How many of those had she had already? Before Aiden could even open his mouth, Zane and Felix were flying past him, holding out their hands to her.
“I’m Felix—I’m Zane,” they said in tandem, sticking out their hands.
They were close enough to make a lesser person painfully uncomfortable. These two were a different kind of neurodivergent. They had zero sense of decorum. “Boys. Maybe don’t start sniffing her hair like creeps five seconds after meeting her,” Aiden said.
Lola cut her eyes at him. “They’re fine. Do I look like I can’t speak for myself?”
Felix and Zane both gave him a smug look that had Aiden rolling his eyes. Why did he bother? The Mulvaneys were like a circus rolling into town wherever they went. He’d missed the chaos. Even if he would never admit it out loud. There was safety in that chaos.
He shook the thought away and stepped inside the home, stopping short just inside the door. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath.
The inside was exactly what Aiden had anticipated, but his stomach dropped just the same. There were floor to ceiling boxes, not just in the living room but the dining room, the kitchen, strewn along stairs, and spilling from the hallway. There was room to walk—and to sit if one wasn’t picky about ruining their clothes—but the options were limited. How had nobody known how mentally unwell this man had been?
“Don’t worry,” Lola said, stepping behind him. “I’ve made good use of my time. I’ve managed to isolate the few boxes that deal with the Mulvaney murders to the dining room table.”
Aiden nodded towards the boxes and the rest of the family—minus Thomas—descended on them like locusts, quickly finding a chair and digging in. This would take all night if Lucas couldn’t do his thing.
Aiden gave her a doubtful look. “You couldn’t possibly have looked through all these boxes.”
“Of course not,” she said, “but not all of these boxes can pertain to the Mulvaneys. The guy was a hoarder, not a historian. He knew about the cover-up, so he clearly didn’t have any reason to dig any deeper. He wasn’t trying to Sherlock Holmes his way through a mystery. He was someone mentally ill who couldn’t stop collecting things.”
“How do you know that?” Aiden asked.
Lola side-eyed him once more. “I’ve been in this house for two days. The Mulvaneys make up a small part of his interests. It looks like, somehow, the evidence came up for grabs and he just…took it. Maybe he’d told them he would destroy it and they were dumb enough to believe him.”
“You don’t know the whole story. Someone is blackmailing Thomas,” Aiden said. “They’re threatening to tell the world that Thomas killed his family, even though they know the truth.”
“Well, it wasn’t this guy,” Lola said. “He’s in a locked unit due to his severe dementia.”
Aiden groaned in frustration. “Fuck. I know. How can someone know the whole story and still think Tommy is the guilty party? How can they still be offended? None of this makes any sense.”
“It does if the wounded party has a connection to Shane,” Thomas said gently.
“OrisShane,” Zane called from the dining room. When they all stopped to look at him, he shrugged. “I mean, I can’t be the only one thinking it, right? He was practically unrecognizable. Maybe he had a contingency plan just in case Dad didn’t play along with his delusional fantasy?”
Thomas shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. It was Shane, trust me. This isn’t a movie. He’s…he’s dead.”
Aiden put a hand on Thomas’s lower back, gently pushing him into the dining room with the others. Lola followed close behind. Zane and Felix took things from the boxes, took pictures with their phones, then handed them to Lucas, the only one who hadn’t taken a seat. Instead, he stood looming over the table, taking what they handed him and pressing his hand to them, eyes closed.
“All the people who cared about him are dead, too,” August said. “At least, those we know about. Are you getting anything,umnishka?”
Lucas tilted his head, his facial gymnastics almost comical as he seemed to rifle through the impressions left behind. “These photos passed through a lot of hands. People in uniform, people in suits. The man who lived here. And another man…someone who didn’t belong here.”
“That is so freaky,” Lola whispered. “But it’s so cool.”
“What does he look like?” Thomas asked.
Lucas grimaced, then shrugged. “I can’t tell you that. I can only see from his point of view, I can onlyfeelfrom his point of view… and he’s pissed. He’s vengeful. He…hates you, wants to destroy you like you destroyed him.”
“You destroyed him?” Felix questioned. “How could he do that if Thomas didn’t know he existed? And how did he even know about this? About any of this? This has to be Shane…centric. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Relax, kitten,” Avi said. “We’ll get there.”
August pulled a large, coffee-stained manila folder from a box. It was brimming with papers that were folded and worn at the edges. When he opened it, he stopped short. “It’s Shane’s medical records.”
