Page 294 of Wicked Brutal

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“I mean nothing, Ryan. No hello. No explanation. My phone started filling with pictures.”

My stomach turns. “Pictures of what?”

“Documents. Financial records. Correspondence. Travel records. Payments. Names. Some were crooked. Some barely had the whole page in frame. She was moving fast.”

“How fast?”

“Fast enough that I was getting another before I’d finished opening the last.”

Fuck. I can see her doing it — rushing through pages, phone in her hand, listening for footsteps, trying to get everything she could out of that house before somebody stopped her.

“What did she tell you?”

“Almost nothing. I asked where she got it. She said Mom. I asked how much there was. She said a lot. Then she kept sending.”

Dad turns toward Arthur. “Jane had it?”

“Apparently.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know yet. Some of what Alison sent goes back years.”

Dad looks through the windows toward the O’Toole house. “Jesus Christ.”

“What was in it?” Callum asks.

Arthur looks around the room. “I’ve had minutes. I haven’t reviewed all of it, and I won’t guess at what I haven’t confirmed. But I’ve seen enough.” Nobody moves. “Pennington. Lucien. Hartley. Reece. Valentina. Veronica. Roman. Tremblay.”

X goes completely still beside Penny. Danny swears. Thomas’s face hardens.

Arthur keeps going. “Money. Drugs. Girls. Travel. Payments. Favors. Protection. Names we’ve seen crossing through the same records. People and events we’ve treated as separate aren’t looking very separate anymore.”

Nobody needs him to explain the names. We all fucking know them.

“What about the girls?” Thomas asks.

“I don’t know enough yet.”

“Arthur.”

“I won’t guess, Thomas.” Thomas’s jaw works, but he nods. Arthur looks back at me. “Celeste’s name appears repeatedly too.”

I frown. “The wedding planner?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck is she doing in any of this?”

“Travel. Private events. Accommodations. Arrangements. Her name is on records that predate Alison’s engagement by years.”

“Facilitator?” Iz asks.

Arthur glances at him. “Possibly. We prove that before we call her one.”