“The Denardi family.”
Organized crime. Just as Maeve had suspected. I don’t stop to beat myself up over not realizing the obvious. No time for that. I swallow. Keep him talking. Tony loves to talk about himself. “I have to give you props. It’s brilliant. You ship the counterfeit money in on trucks via the access road. Was it you who got the old Anderson place condemned?”
“We couldn't have the Andersons moving back in. There are woods between this house and the road. Not so ontheir side of things. We were too exposed. I greased a few wheels and made sure no one else would be living there.”
I glance again at the sinking sun. “There's something I don't understand, though. Once you put the money on the boat, what then?”
“Down the river, out the Chesapeake Bay, to a cargo vessel in the Atlantic where it's disguised among other cargo and shipped to the Caymans.”
I nod. I can see it all now, the piece I was missing. “You deposit it in the offshore account of Genesis Corp before wiring it back to yourself as consulting fees.”
He preens. “There are a few other transfers before it makes it back to me. By the time it does, it's completely clean.”
Hell, if the fucker isn't a miserable, egotistical narcissist with self-aggrandizing tendencies. He tricked my grandmother, all so he could —I gasp, realization dawning as the timeline falls into place. “Was that why you married me?”
Snorting, he offers a dismissive shrug. “Why I dated you. Why I married you. Why I was even there on the side of your fucking cliff to keep you from jumping that day. It always made me laugh how you never questioned why I was just wandering around your property.”
“Wow.” I wish I could say it doesn’t hurt, but it does.
“Did you think I had a crush on you, Eloise?” He laughs harder. “Following you around like a puppy? No, sugar. I was there making a plan for how to scale the operation. Why do you think I encouraged you to go away to college, only to insist you quit your teaching job only months after we were married?”
I’ve wondered about that. I always thought it had to do with control, the hallmark of an abuser, but the hostility inTony's eyes tells me it’s something more. “Why?” I can't keep the pain from soaking the word.
“I needed to keep you away from home. Your grandmother was easy. She rarely left the house and never at night. But if you were here, you were a liability. You, Eloise, liked to take long walks to the cemetery or the cliffs. And then, when you took the job at the local high school and would pop in to check on your grandmother at any given moment, you became a liability again.”
“So… everything I thought you did for me wasn't because you cared for me at all. It was to keep me away from the property so I wouldn't discover what you were doing.” I swallow down the urge to be sick, my stomach tightening like he’s punched me. If there is anything more painful than learning he wants me dead, it’s learning that he never loved me. All my memories are false. I've been used in the most cruel and intimate way.
“Now you're getting it.” He gives me a pitying look. “Don't take it personally, doll. This started way before you.” A wicked glint sparks in his eye.
All the breath leaves my lungs. Oh my God. Is he suggesting what I think he is? My eyes narrow, and my next words come in fits and starts. “Tony, are you responsible for the deaths of my parents?”
He places a hand on his chest. “Not me, personally. My dad handled that one before he died. They asked a lot of questions, your parents. Always nosing around. If it makes you feel better, Pop said they weren't easy targets.”
Everything in me sparks into a burning rage, and I hurl the glass in my hands at Tony with all my strength. He raises his forearm and blocks it from hitting his face, but the glass shatters, slicing into the meat near his elbow. Never taking his eyes off me, he reaches around, plucks theshard from his flesh, and tosses it aside. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for his gaze to turn more murderous, but it does.
As quick as I can move, I reach for my palette knife, but he’s on me in an instant, punching my head and clutching at my throat. I desperately block his blows, screaming for him to stop and then losing all the air from my lungs when his knee connects with my gut. I double over, but he drags me up by the throat. Black dots circle in my vision. I need air. I pound on his arms to no avail.
“Fine. You don't want to go to sleep peacefully. I'll put you to sleep with my own two hands, you fucking cunt.”
No air. My blows to his arms grow weaker and weaker. The black circles in my vision expand in size until the darkness overcomes me completely. And then it’s all there is.
41
A Mother’s Love
ELOISE
When I can see again, I’m no longer in the studio but standing on the side of the cliff behind our house, the river raging below me. Not the river I know though. This one flows with liquid fire, the stone dark and porous as lava rock. Ash rains from the sky like snow. Have I died and gone to hell?
“Oh, Eloise, this isn't how we'd hoped to tell you.” My mother appears beside me.
“Mom?”
“Your father is here too.” She gestures behind her and I see Dad heading toward us, Max at his side. The dog's tail wags and his gait is a light, happy jog. Despite the ash and the hellscape behind us, when I turn to face him, it’s paradise. The sun is shining. Narcissus blooms in the yard between us and my house, which rises in perfect splendor before me, and when I look to the porch, Grams and Gramps wave to me from their rockers.
“Am I dead?”
“Oh no, sweetheart. Not yet. But if you’re going to beat that bastard, you need to connect to what is rightfully yours. I’m afraid we waited too long to show you how.” Her oversized blue eyes spark with magic.
