“Get Graft up here. I want them both disposed of immediately.”
Graves stares her down for a few beats and then moves toward us with a nod but I’m not done playing my cards yet.
“Disposed of? What? You mean kill us? You can’t be serious! You can’t just order him to kill us. You’d never get away with it!” I force a touch of fear into my tone, playing it up for all the viewers watching. I need her to say exactly what she’s ordering so no scummy lawyer can get her out of what’s coming.
She rolls her eyes at me. “I can and I have and no one is the wiser. What? You think you’re the first whining little justice warrior that tried to come for me? Please, get over yourself. At least twice a year some pathetic victim, as you call them, thinks they can take me down. Not one of you sad little losers have succeeded and you certainly won’t either. So yes, you and your boyfriend will be taken out into the vineyard and have a bullet put into the back of your heads never to be seen again. And let’s be honest, no one will really miss you, will they?”
It’s a struggle not to pump my fist in the air and crow at what she’s just confirmed and admitted to. Especially when Damon comes through my ear with the count.
“Annnnnd, that was just witnessed by 3.8 million viewers. She’s finished, baby. Wrap it up. Police have already been alerted to a hostage situation and they’re on the way.”
“Graves! I’m done with this shit. Take them out. Make sure none of the guests see them on the way.”
I turn my head to meet his eyes as he lifts the gun to point at us. He stares me down with steady eyes and then gives me the tiniest nod.
When I start speaking again, I keep my eyes locked on his but my words are for Aris Thorne. “So many people die and are further traumatized by what you do but I don’t think you really get it yet. Most are so steeped in the pain and misery and griefthat they shut down. Others… others use that pain as fuel. It fuels the rage that makes them willing to sacrifice years to get justice. Like the daughter who lost her only family. Who lost her mother. Who watched her suffer day after day.” My voice chokes on the surge of pain that comes with my words but I push on. “The daughter who was helpless to get her mother the simple medicine she needed to live because men like Chad Lamott decided to buy the patent and increase the price by a thousand percent just to satisfy his greed. The daughter who was helpless when the hospital basically evicted her dying mother from getting care because men like Victor Hensley specialized in illegally denying claims even though every premium was paid on time. How you made that mother believe she was a criminal in her final hours of life by telling her they were going to charge her with fraud if she didn’t pay the huge medical bill that resulted from those claim denials. But that’s just one story and I know you don’t care about it.”
I tilt my head to the side still staring into Graves eyes and my expression fills with compassion.
“The story you really should care about is of the father. The father whose little girl got sick and died while he was deeply embedded in enemy territory while on deployment. By the time he got back to civilization, it was all over because your company had already swooped in and taken everything from his wife that wasn’t nailed to the floor. She couldn’t take it, you see. The loss of her precious daughter and then their house, car and every dime you could squeeze from her. So, she made the tragic decision to follow her daughter into death.” I finally break my gaze with Graves and turn back to Thorne.
“In most successful cons, there’s usually one very important aspect to it. The inside man. In this case, it would be the father.”
Thorne’s finally starting to get it as fear flickers over her expression but she drags her wide gaze from Graves and narrows her eyes at me.
“Lamott and Hensley… that was you?”
I drop into a deep curtsy in response, not wanting to admit to it out loud with so many people watching through the camera. I’ll let speculation do its job without confirming it. But speaking of all those viewers…
“My mom died thinking she was a criminal because of you when all she ever did was work multiple jobs to support us. Lamont and Hensley got off easy for their part in it but you… you get to see the whole world condemn you and know you’re a true criminal and murderer. You just ordered your men to kill us… while being on a live stream with millions of viewers watching. Congratulations, everything you’ve built on the backs of other peoples' tragedies, everything you are or ever will be is gone. Checkmate, bitch. Enjoy being a cockroach.”
Graves finally turns away from me and points his weapon where it belongs, straight at Aris Thorne and speaks. “Her name was Melody, you fucking cunt.”
For one second I think he’s going to pull the trigger and finish her but his radio squawks breaking the moment causing him to slightly lower the gun and bring the radio up to his mouth with his free hand. “What!”
I recognise Tyler Graft’s voice when it replies. “Boss! There’s a full fucking SWAT team at the gates right now. What the fuck is going on?”
With the slightest smile, Graves tells him, “Let them in, Tyler, and guide them up here to the executive office. I have the situation contained until they get here.”
He turns to look at me and that small smile blooms. “What do you think, kid? You going to stick around to finish it or do you want to clear out before the cops get up here?”
I smile at the nickname he gave me when we first met in a grief support group three years ago and shrug. “I’m sure the live stream replay will give them everything they need plus your records of all the shady shit you dug up on her and Graft.”
Thorne starts screaming about how we can’t do this to her but when we ignore her, it quickly turns to offers of money and when that still doesn’t work, she cries and starts begging for mercy. Graves grabs her and shoves her down into one of the office chairs and I roll my eyes at her dramatics. I turn my back so the camera is facing away from her and the open safe as Marcus goes and cleans it out taking the ledgers and hard drives. It’s not that I don’t trust that the cops will get the information to the right authorities, it’s that I don’t want to wait for the bureaucratic red tape that could take months. I want this woman wrapped up in a pretty bow of destruction right now so there’s no chance she can slip and slide her way out of any of it. I have my own contacts in the media and federal government that will get on all of this right away. After all the information I’ve fed to them, they were happy to let me skate on any charges for breaking into Lamott’s safe back on Halloween. It’s really the only crime they’d be able to pin on me. Hensley’s wife would cover me by giving me access to their safe and here, I didn’t break into anything. Thorne opened the safe, Gary gave me an access badge so other than identity fraud, I’m clear. Besides, the information I’ve been passing on to the authorities gives them much bigger, juicier targets to go after than little old me.
The last thing I do to wrap this up is slip a well worn picture from my pocket. I block out Thorne’s sobbing and whining as I stare down at the woman I did all this for. After saying a silent prayer for her to rest easy in heaven, I turn the picture and hold it up to the camera broach so the words printed on the back are clear to see for all the viewers.
THEIR GREED KILLED THEM ALL
And then… then I finally feel peace as we walk out.
Chapter 17 – Blue (February 14)
We make it back down to the party before the police get to the second floor. Marcus blends back into the party guests and I scoop up a serving tray of champagne, merging back into the staff routine like I never left. The hardest part is not laughing hysterically when cell phones start going off all over the party as news starts to spread. It’s incredibly entertaining to me to see how many of these rich assholes start darting to the doors, trying to escape being tainted by Thorne’s downfall. They’re like fucking rats deserting a sinking ship. Too bad for them, the cops are stopping everyone from leaving and taking names until they sort this mess out. It takes hours for that to happen before we’re released from the property but not before we all get to watch Aris Thorne and Tyler Graft get marched out in handcuffs. Graft is smirking like none of this bothers him, the psycho, and she’s got mascara streaks covering her cheeks. Bye bitch.
When they finally release us all, Andre and I slip away from the staff bussing area and slide into the back of the black Escalade Marcus came in. We drive to the Auberge whereDamon is already waiting for us with Skipper in the 1800 square foot private maison. Skipper races toward me but Damon beats her to me and scoops me up in a bone crushing hug filled with relief. It’s a new experience for me, having people actually give a shit that I’m safe and it chokes me up a bit but when I pull back and look up into his eyes, all I can think is…What now?
The job is done. I’ve finally crossed the last name off my list and the con I’ve been working on for so long is over. I glance around at the others and see expressions of cautious hope for what I’ll do next. They’re waiting. They’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. They’re waiting for me to run. I touch the pocket of my slacks where my mom’s picture is and close my eyes to reach out to her.
