Page 58 of My Cruel Salvation

“Hang on,” I say. “I want to see something.” I move to Lamar’s side and take the phone from him. This time I scroll through the email chain to the bottom. “There are other names on the first one,” I say. I recognize some from things Devlin has told me. M. Espinoza, R. Duarte, and several others. “They got taken off as the chain became about the attack on me. But they must be Blackstone’s people.”

“We’re working on tracking them down,” Lamar says, which doesn’t surprise me at all. My Watson is good at his job, after all.

“Can you forward all of that information to me?” Devlin asks, looking up from scrolling on his phone, presumably skimming texts from Ronan.

“Already done,” Lamar says. “Reciprocity, remember?”

“Of course,” Devlin says with a nod.

“Listen, obviously this is hot. I’m heading to the precinct.” He looks between the two of us. “Watch your backs. He’s not in his penthouse in the city. He might be at one of his other residences, and Chicago PD is going to check on that. But he could be heading here, too.”

Lamar’s focus shifts to me. “Stay with Devlin, Sherlock. You, too, Brandy. Stay safe. If Blackstone sent this email to turn the attention on Christopher, it might be that something’s about to go down with Blackstone that’s new. I want you all covered. You should get back to the house.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Devlin says. He extends his hand to Lamar, and to my relief, Lamar takes it easily. I’d been a little worried that he blames Devlin for Tracy’s death, even if subconsciously, and that easy handshake goes a long way toward alleviating that concern.

As soon as he’s out of the room, I want to ask all sorts of questions of Devlin, but I can’t because Brandy is there and she doesn’t know it all. We could pull her into the secret, but after the blow she’s had today, I really don’t think it’s the time to lay anything else on her.

Devlin must be thinking the same thing, because a moment later, there’s a quick tap on his door and Reggie enters without waiting for an invite.

I realize then that Devlin had texted her. “Could you stick with Ms. Bradshaw while she says her goodbyes, then take her home and stay with her? She’s had some bad news and I don’t want her alone.”

“Of course,” Reggie says.

“Reggie does some freelance security work for the foundation,” Devlin tells Brandy, which is more or less accurate. “She’ll stay with you until Ellie and I can make the rounds, say our farewells, and leave the party without any questions being raised.”

I almost point out that our escape for a quickie has taken longer than we’d intended. So there are already probably speculations and questions galore.

I say nothing, though. Just hug Brandy and promise we’ll be there soon.

As soon as she and Reggie are out the door, I toss back the rest of the Scotch. “I know we need to go mingle, but tell me the rest of it first. Blackstone didn’t send that email, did he?”

“Oh, he sent it,” Devlin says. “But only the one time. And only to Christopher as an order.”

“Lamar’s news wasn’t a surprise to you, was it? That was the text you got downstairs, wasn’t it?”

He nods. “Penn and Claire have a team in Chicago, remember? Ronan’s there, too, along with Charlie and Grace and several you haven’t met yet.”

“I figured. I was wondering why Reggie was here, actually, instead of with them.”

“She drew the short straw,” Devlin says, and I laugh.

“Fair enough. But I’m still confused. Was the mission a success? Is Joseph Blackstone dead?”

“Yes.”

It’s a short, to-the-point answer, and relief floods through me. “So tell me the rest of it. How did Lamar get that email?”

“While the team was on-site, they went through as much of his electronics and paperwork as they could.”

“They found those photos of Christopher.”

He nods. “It breaks my heart for Brandy, but there’s really no doubt that Christopher drove the SUV. There were more images and other email chains on the computer—a lot more—but Ronan only forwarded a few. The rest are being analyzed.”

“He might have been coerced,” I say.

“True. Possibly even likely. They weren’t Photoshopped or staged, but someone got in place ahead of time and took the photographs. You’ll note the use of the special lens so that Christopher is identifiable through the window despite the tinting.”

“Good God,” I say. “That probably means that Blackstone got his brother to do that, then had the balls to save the evidence so that he could use it against him later if he ever needed to.”