“Do you really think Trips and Clara are running away together right now?” RJ asks.
“Well, no. Not really. Maybe not on purpose. I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. And I don’t think it’s me. I think it’s something else.”
Sighing, I go to contradict him, to pull him back down to reality, but RJ’s nodding along, so I hold my tongue.
“I have the same feeling, Jay. It’s like I’ve missed something important. I’ve been looking into the Westerhouse family since they left, but I can’t find much of anything. Do you guys know anything about Trips’ family that I don’t?”
I think over what I know, which is surprisingly little. “Their family runs on deals.”
“And bad tempers, political connections, and violence,” Jay adds.
“They have more money than any of us have ever seen,” RJ finishes.
“That’s not much to go on,” I say.
“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “Clara mentioned that Trips’ dad uses the same cleaner as the mob guys in Chicago,” he adds with his brows furrowed, immediately tapping on the tablet.
“That’s weird,” Jansen says, taking a bite out of the apple he’s been tossing around for more than an hour.
“People cleaners,” RJ clarifies, dropping that bomb into the silent kitchen.
People cleaners. As in dead bodies. As in, we just let our girl go willingly into a building with a man who deals with bodies often enough to need someone to call for that. And often enough that Trips knows about it.
“That’s not good,” Jansen whispers, having come to the same conclusion I did, his eyes wide.
“The O’Malley’s, that was it,” RJ mutters, his focus drilled into whatever it is he’s digging up.
I close my eyes, my pencil smooth in my grip as I try to quell the surge of emotion that shoots through me. It’s one thing when she’s rushing into chaos, and I know she has a plan to clean it up. It’s another thing entirely to send her to Trips’ house for literal days, not even knowing the extent of the danger she’s in. That they’re both in.
When I open my eyes, Jansen has his phone in his hand, staring at it like it might be either a bomb or a bouquet. “Is it even safe to message?”
“I don’t know.” And I don’t like it.
Glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time, my fist grows tight, the pencil snapping in two.
Damn it.
RJ hisses in through his teeth, his nostrils flaring. “I’ve got something. Fuck, I haven’t been this deep into the dark web in a long time. But I found the O’Malley’s. They do body clean ups—wet works—and they have tons of anonymous testimonials. Tell me if this sounds familiar: ‘Quick and effective service. Families of the problem have no clues to follow, and the cases have run cold, saving my clients millions. Cannot recommend more highly.’”
Jansen sets his apple on the counter, that single bite all he’s taken. “Trips said his dad got rid of whistleblowers. He’s a corporate fixer. The nasty kind.”
“And that’s what it sounds like they were used for by this anonymous customer.”
“But who killed them? The O’Malley’s just clean the bodies, right?” Jansen bursts out.
I swallow. “I think that’s what Trips’ dad is hoping he’ll do, going forward. Don’t you think? They have his brother as the face and charm, while Trips would be the threat.”
Jay pulls his hair up into a ponytail. “No wonder he wants to get out of the family business.”
The back door clicks, and he’s off the counter and bounding down the hallway before I get to my feet. RJ and I follow, but plow into him halfway down the hallway, Trips and Clara standing just inside the door.
I can’t figure out what has him stalled out, but then I see both their faces. Clara’s dark eyes are hazy, her lips drawn in a tight line, her skin ashen. Trips has the bag they took slung over one shoulder, his hand clenched tight in a fist, his knuckles taped and bandaged. His face is stony, but not with his typical fury. No, defeat is written across his face like words on a page, it’s so clear.
Before I even think about it, I open my arms, and Clara sprints to me, her face pressed against my chest as I hold her tight.
“What happened?” RJ asks, Jansen still frozen looking between Trips and Clara.
“My father, mostly. The rest is me being a goddamn idiot.”
