“Yeah, well, I need to make sure everything’s taken care of.”
Ever’s persistent vagueness finally annoys me so much I wrench my arm away. Ice cubes shatter on the kitchen floor. But Ever doesn’t say anything; he just walks to the sink and dumps the rest of the ice, then grips the counter with both hands. Staring at his broad back, I think:Stop being scared and tell him about Barry. I open my mouth but can’t bring myself to do it.
“I can’t remember the code to that damn safe,” Ever murmurs, staring out the window. “I know it starts with an eight.”
I push thoughts of Barry’s proposal aside. I’ll tell Ever later, when things are less urgent. “Why are you talking about a safe? Focus.”
He spins on his heel and blows past me back into the living room, tugging at his hair. “I think a seven is next.”
I follow him. “Everett, come on.”
He paces in front of the couch. “But the third number I can’t get. A nine or a six… I just can’t—”
“Ever,” I say sharply, and seize his T-shirt by the hem. He halts, eyes flicking to my mouth. “Snap out of it. We need to talk about the investigation.”
His jaw tightens. “That is what I’m talking about.”
I tug his shirt harder. “You don’t understand. While you were traipsing around Durham, they found Renard’s skull. The sheriff came to see me, asking questions about my relationship with Renard andyou. He knows we knew each other.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly. He asked if Renard ever visited your dad’s garage. Why would he ask that?”
Everett’s silent.
“Now is really not the time to be evasive. If you have something to say, speak.”
He looks up at the ceiling, then blows out a breath. “Okay. You’re not going to like this, but…Renard used to work for this gang out of Forsythe.”
I release his shirt. “What kind of gang?”
“Bike gang that calls itself the Sons of Liberty. Real notorious in certain circles. They move drugs through south Louisiana.”
“How do you know that?”
Ever’s silent again. Finally, he says, “Because they used my dad’s garage for drops.”
Surprise locks my limbs. “Your dad worked for them?”
His laugh is throaty. “Ruth, my dad was an alcoholic who could barely finish a repair job unless I stepped in. Where do you think his money actually came from?”
I can barely keep up with all the memories I now have to reconsider. Mr. Duncan was more than just a sadistic drunk; he was a criminal.Does that change anything?the voice in my head whispers. “I can’t… I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re repulsed,” Ever says quietly. Certain of it.
“No. I mean, yes, but—how do you know Renard was involved with the Sons of Liberty too?” Their name feels strange in my mouth.
I know what Ever looks like when he doesn’t want to do something, so I know he’s forcing himself to look me in the eyes. “Because Renard used to come by the garage all the time. Someone from the Sons of Liberty would drop off a package, Renard would come pick it up, and then the same thing would happen in reverse with the money, except that round my dad got a cut. The garage was a way station. Everyone needs repairs, especially motorcycle riders. They had the perfect excuse to be in and out all hours.”
“What kind of drugs?”
“Oxy, mostly. Fentanyl. Meth. Painkillers, Ruth. That’s where the money is.” Challenge shimmers in his eyes. “This is opioid country. Surely you’re aware.”
I sidestep his pointed remark. “None of this makes sense. I know for a fact Renard worked construction.”
“From what I could tell, he was in deep with the Sons. His construction job probably made him the perfect runner, traveling from place to place all over the state. How do you think he paid for that big ugly truck with the rims?”
Renard and his beloved truck. My voice is dazed. “So you’re sayingRenard and your father were involved in a drug ring, but you never said a word. And we were supposed to be best friends.”
