“What would we do with it if we did? Hand it over to the police?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “I’d like to. They deserve to be punished, but all we have is hostility and a filing system. Any detective would laugh that out of town. I’m just glad I had my time with each of them before the news broke. It’s live now.”
I pulled a sympathetic smile. “Are you okay?”
“I think so? I caught a few headlines which reported the deaths and the fact the women were found on a ship owned by an old family firm, but I couldn’t read any more. Not if I want to sleep tonight.” Her voice tightened. “The solicitors asked me to draft a statement on behalf of the company, and I started while Con was driving me between houses, but then tore it up and told them to handle it. What am I supposed to say, that the people trafficking was a complete unknown? That the facts aren’t the facts? They’ve already arrested the ship’s captain, the crew, and some of the dock workers. Someone will spill, and no one will believe that any Marchant is shocked by it. They’ll think us all complicit.”
I gave her arm a squeeze, but my mind went to Kane, out in the dark somewhere. He hadn’t wanted to be part of this, and that made me want to delve even deeper into the mysteries to protect him and Mila.
If I wasn’t on the verge of emotional collapse.
Down on the main floor of the club, the DJ spoke over the music, announcing that the next weekend would see the game played at the warehouse. The crowd roared, and I cringed more into my shell. The predator-prey fun they operated in their basement was a version of what Kane and I did together, but I couldn’t get excited about it. My mind was elsewhere, and the vibrant celebration of life felt almost offensive.
My need to hide was only getting stronger.
I gripped the edges of my chair. “What about Darcy? Did anyone know her?”
“No one from the orange folders gave me anything. Even those who’d been at the meeting claimed no knowledge. Cassie was great. She made it clear that they had to hold that line when the police or any reporters came calling. She can be scary when she wants to.”
I managed a faint smile. Mila continued.
“The green folder families knew less and were further away from the business, except for one very old relative who said he’d once been a mentor to my grandfather. He complained that my grandfather had raised his sons badly. One having kids out of wedlock and the other living a playboy lifestyle. He said something about my grandfather training up two girls to run his business. Except there was no one before me. I thought he might have had Darcy in his head and mixed us up, but he couldn’t tell me a name and got confused when I gently pushed him on it.”
“Is it possible they trained Darcy before you? Then she ran for some reason and became the Dixie we all know and love?”
“It’s hard to believe that. How could so many people be kept to silence? I was at my grandparents’ side from age fourteen. If my sister had done the same, that would’ve been just a few years before. Then again, the more we dig, the more secrets are coming out of the woodwork, so perhaps anything is possible.” She drained her drink. “I’d hoped the day would make me feelbetter after months of the family harassing me. A full circle moment of being their bitch and taking my power back, my chance to see them eye to eye before the news stole my thunder. But it was a fail.”
My pulse skipped. “It wasn’t a fail. You protected your sister. You did good. But so did I. I uncovered something in the trusted company research.”
“You worked out who they are?”
“More than that. I have their names, their CEOs, and I’m starting on another more important piece of information.” I left a dramatic pause. “Their investors.”
Mila inched back, her forehead lining. “Their investors? Wait, start with the names.”
From my bag, I brought out my laptop and showed her each in turn. Mila typed them into her phone. “I’m sending the list to our group so everyone can see.”
Mila: The companies my grandfather trusted to vote on his business if the worst happened to him are: Sullivan Property Solutions (landlords) – owner Peter Sullivan. Harford and Tien (advisors to government bodies) – owner Denise Harford. And Debrock Finances (money lenders to rich people, we think) – owner Paul Debrock.
She sent the message then regarded the list. “I know all their names. My grandfather had a tight circle. Talk to me about the investors part.”
My muted pulse blipped. “I only just discovered the connection so need to delve deeper, but Sullivan Property Solutions has a majority investor whose name is Marchant.”
Her mouth fell open. “Which Marchant?”
“I only know their initial is P.”
“Not my grandfather. His name was Austin. But there’s probably half a dozen others it could be.”
Her gaze switched to the middle distance, and I watched her perform the same mental gymnastics that I had. With the vote tied and Darcy missing, the trusted companies were set up to break such a deadlock. And one was somehow under the influence of the Marchant family. That was no accident.
She shook her head. “Plot twist. Can you look at the others?”
I wanted to. My energy would usually have been all over that. Sadness had taken its place, and even the moment when delight should’ve come from sharing hard-won intel, it fell flat.
My lack of an answer was concealed by a commotion coming from the steps, a shout of Mila’s name piercing a lull in the thumping music. Both of us glanced over to where a man was held back by the bouncer. Mila narrowed her eyes.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
