And then finally when they were hidden behind the world’s most disgusting dumpster, Milt had called the two men that he claimed were private investigators, who’d calmly taken his news that he’d been shot protecting Emily, and told him they’d found an associate nearby who would come, soon, to pick them up.
Then the focus had been on where they were, and figuring out the best rendezvous point. The associate—Rod, the driver—was more familiar with the city, and they’d conferenced him in to their conversation. He immediately knew the best place nearby for them to stay hidden, and had shown up, as promised, within fifteen harrowing minutes.
During all of which, Emily had managed to keep it together. But not anymore.
“Yeah, hold that tightly... There you go,” Kevin told Milt before turning to Emily. “You probably hit the sidewalk pretty hard,” he said to her, his eyes kind as he reached beneath her hair to gently feel the back of her head. “Tell me if it hurts.”
She shook her head as she tried to catch her breath. “No, I’m all right. I’m just... He just saved my life but that doesn’t make any of this okay. He lied to me for months and God, I don’t know what to believe.”
Kevin used his flashlight to check her eyes. “Well, I don’t have awholelot of experience with people jumping between me and the barrel of a gun, but I know for a fact that’s not something you do casually. It seems pretty clear it’s an act of love. So you kinda start there, you know? It’s good to be loved. So just, you know, believe that for right now. You don’t have to figure anything else out tonight. You just need to come with us, maybe take a shower when we get back to the house. Put on something warm, curl up on the couch. Rod’s got a great couch. Very comfy. Have a little ice cream and just... be safe. Okay?”
Emily nodded, but she just could not stop her tears, so Kevin put his arms around her. “It’s okay, sweetie,” he said. “You’re okay.”
Up in the driver’s seat, the man named Rod said, “Call Jules Cassidy.”
The car responded “Calling Jules Cassidy,” and a loud ringing sound filled the car.
“Hit us with some good news, Rod,” the investigator with the Texas accent—Sam—said as the call was connected. He and Cassidy were en route from Los Angeles, and were still some distance away.
“Got ’em,” Rod said. “Heading back, not being followed, but I’m gonna take the long way home.”
“Music to my ears,” Sam said. “Cassidy’s on my phone, talking to some team members driving up from San Diego, but I know he’s gonna want a sit-rep on that gunshot wound.”
“It looks good,” Kevin spoke up even as he continued to hold tightly to Emily. “A graze of the upper arm, about twoand a half inches of owie boo-boo, no stitches needed. I’ll get it cleaned up when we get back to the house. Oh, but hewillneed an antibiotic. I’d like to get him started on that tonight if possible, so if you have any contacts who can write a script, now’s the time to shoot ’em a boy-howdy. Let’s use the pharmacy over near the hospital, instead of the one closest to Rod’s as long as we’re being all clandestine and shit. Mick, you got any drug allergies you wanna share with us? You good with penicillin?”
“I am,” he said.
“I’ll get right on that.” The other investigator—Cassidy—must’ve finished with his other call, because he spoke up, his voice coming through the car speakers. “And good idea about the pharmacy, Hob. Mick, are you able to talk, or would you prefer waiting until we arrive?”
“Why do you call him Mick,” Emily asked, “when his name is Milt?”
“Hello, Emily,” Cassidy replied in his calm, even voice. “I’m Jules. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m glad you’re safe. But Mick’s name isn’t Milt. He changed it, legally, years ago.”
“And even if he didn’t, Boo,” Kevin interjected in a whisper, “it’s disrespectful not to use someone’s chosen name.”
“O’Rourke was my mother’s maiden name,” Mick spoke up from the other side of the car. “When I was around ten, she told me she’d wanted to name me Mick, after her father, butmyfather told her that was stupid, thatshewas stupid, that Mick was a nickname, and a low-class one at that. She tried to settle for Michael, but Milton wanted a junior, and he always got his way, so... I was making things right, and yes, I was trying to separate myself from my felony conviction. That, too.”
There was a moment, then, of not-quite silence as the car’s tires hummed along the road.
Mick broke it. “I don’t need to wait,” he said, answering Cassidy’s question. “I don’t want to wait. If you have questions for me...”
“We’re a little curious about why you hired us to find Emily when you knew damn well where she was,” the Texan said, his voice slightly louder in the speaker. He was probably driving the investigators’ car, and was closer to the Bluetooth mic.
“I panicked,” Mick answered him. “She didn’t know who I was—I meant to tell her, but as time passed, it got harder and harder and... I didn’t trust Harper, and... I was just so shocked that my father did the right thing—well,aright thing. He should’ve told the truth in that note he wrote to her, the one that was attached to his will, but he didn’t, so I’m pretty sure he only named her as his heir to, I don’t know,punishme? I honestly don’t know. But hey, joke’s on him. Because there’s nothing in the world I wanted more than for Emily to get what she should’ve gotten if her grandfather had sued my father—and me, too—in a civil case, the way I hoped he would.”
“Youhopedmy grandfather wouldsueyou?” Emily asked, emerging from the warmth of Kevin’s arms.
“I wanted justice. I knew that a civil case would help me prove my innocence,” Mick said quietly. “After I got out of prison, I discovered the truth when I gathered evidence for a civil trial—I was looking for info to give to your grandfather to use to sue us, yes and…” He took a deep breath. “Instead, I found out that I couldn’t’ve been driving that car that night. That I wasn’t. That it was really my father who killed your mother. That I was framed.”
Cassidy spoke up. “As we were learning more about your father,” he said, “we stumbled across evidence that that so-called leaked video tape that ‘proved’ your guilt wasabsolutely altered. The original date and timestamp had been removed and a new one was added.”
“Are you serious?” Emily said.
“Wow,” Mick said. “You guys are good. I have a video file of the original—and yeah, that video, where I puke on my father’s slippers, wasnotrecorded on the day of the accident.”
“I want to see it,” Emily said. “All of it. All of the evidence. Alleged evidence.”
“Okay,” Mick said. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
