“The evidence. Preston covered up crimes, but then kept little mementos so he could continue to blackmail his customers further down the line.”
I huffed out a breath. “Just like he did to me.”
“So, someone on that list decided to get their own back. Got sick of Preston’s behaviour and decided to take out his whole racket?” Sean checked.
Wren looked pensive as he replied. “No, I don’t think it’s someone random because who was in his inner circle wasn’t common knowledge. A man like him doesn’t get away with all this without keeping his methods locked down. No, whoever this was has insider knowledge.” All eyes turned to me, and my skin prickled under their silent accusation.
“This wasn’t me,” I fired back, sounding more guilty than I’d hoped. I turned to Roman. “You know me. Do you think I’m a murderer?”
He flinched like my words had physical force. “I don’t know you at all.”
I dragged my tongue over my teeth, hating that he felt like I was a stranger. Roman Black knew me better than anyone, and I didn’t think it was because he’d watched every element of my life for six years, but more that I’d let him in… lowered my walls, so he could see the real me, and I needed him to understand that.
“You’ve been watching me, right?” His gaze dipped, guilt flashing across his face. He didn’t need to answer, so I carried on talking. “This would take planning, internet searches, owning a gun, following these people so I could get to them… I know the work that goes into committing a crime. Have you seen me doing that? Any of it?”
His expression didn’t shift; there wasn’t the moment of realisation about my innocence I’d hoped for. Instead, he said, “No, but you vanished for extended periods when I couldn’t watch you, so fuck knows what you were doing. And, you have a gun, remember? You pointed it at me enough.”
“The gun that was used was not the same one that Hana took from the armoury. Plus, she took thatafterthe others were shot,” Sean injected, and I was grateful to at least have someone fighting my corner.
“I was trying to find where Preston had hidden the masterfile. He has places all over—warehouses, townhouses, places I knew about, ones I only found out about after he died, when I started digging. I was searching for those.”
“I was looking for you. I would have found you if that’s what you were doing.”
“I’ve spent my life being a ghost, Ro. I hide really well. Fake plates, disguises, scoping out cameras before I got out of the car. I presumed someone was coming after me after Preston died, and I needed to find out who.”
“I found you, you know. You used a cashpoint…” He sounded smug.
I gave him a slow clap, my sarcasm clear for everyone to see. “What, a girl can’t have a slipup when she’s exhausted and in desperate need of some cash? Or, maybe I wanted to show up on camera before I vanished again to throw anyone watching off the trail. Tell me, did you manage to track me for long?”
His face hardened, and he side-eyed Sean, whose thinning lips told me he was holding back a smile.
“Well, if it’s not Hana, this brings us back to the tarot card,” Wren declared, steering the topic of conversation back to finding out who was after me.
“Tarot card?” I checked because there’d been no mention of that in the news stories I’d read. A photo of the card appeared on the large screen, and my heart stuttered to a halt as I took it in.
“We kept it out of the news,” Sean explained like he could read my thoughts. “Does it mean anything to you?”
I nodded slowly. “Jean Wolf,” I said as if that was enough of an explanation, but as more photos of the man I’d sent to prison for trafficking appeared on the screen, I guessed Roman was right about the skills of the people he worked with.
“This man?” Wren asked.
“Yes.”
“How are you so sure?” Roman asked, his voice low in the background as my attention stayed locked on the image of the older man with dark, straggly chin length hair standing next to his motorbike outside the building he ran his gang from.
“That card. He was obsessed with it. Had one in his office in a frame. But what’s he got to do with anything?”
“Jean Wolf is the one who bought the burner phone used to send the photo and message to Hana before she was shot at. He also hired the Airbnb in Scotland using the alias.”
“But that’s not possible,” I stuttered out, this whole thing feeling more surreal by the moment.
“No, it’s not,” Wren replied, “because he’s dead.”
56
ROMAN
All eyes wereon Hana as she stared back defiantly, her head held high.
