Page 73 of Devious Gambit

“And what is on the line?”

He sighed, dropping his eyes down. Twenty minutes ago, those eyes were the most mischievously beautiful gems on the planet. Now they’re empty and cold. “Your safety.”

I picked up a teaspoon that was lying on the table and threw it at him. He let it hit his face, hungry for the punishment. “I’m sorry,” he said, sadly. “For everything.”

I seized the empty mug and threw that at him, that time he ducked.

The tears were streaming now, a full-blown sob. He got up from his side of the table and placed his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said again and handed me a Kleenex.

“What do you get out of all this?” I asked, snatching the Kleenex from his hand.

“Nothing. I offered to do it to protect you from the wrath of the Harringtons.”

“So kind,” my reply was sarcastic. I was done with this conversation and I was done with him.

TWENTY EIGHT

Rhys

I grasped my hands to stop them from shaking as I sat at the table in the visitor’s video conference room, waiting for Brett Moody to be escorted in front of the camera. It was a level 4 prison, closed custody, in an old red/brown brick building built between 1910-1914 the plaque read. Level 5 held the highest level of security with the worst criminals, so I guess my father was doing okay.

A man was escorted in front of the camera, dressed in a distinctive orange jump suit, his hands and ankles shackled. “Guys! Doesn’t she look beautiful,” he called out. I kept my eyes low, breathing through the nerves swelling in my belly. I refused to dwell on my broken heart, because it was my fault for letting it happen. I had more important things to focus on anyway.

“My daughter!” the man announced to the prison guard. “Look at her, Fred. Isn’t she the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen?”

“Indeed she is,” Fred answered grinning, patting the prisoner on the shoulder and stepping back out of the video frame. The prisoner couldn’t take his eyes off me and I scanned his features as he sat there, searching for something familiar. Oddly, and on first impressions, he looked like a schoolteacher or maybe a scientist with his long face, glasses, receding dark hair, and gentle movements. He definitely didn’t look like a violent man who committed a triple homicide. In my mind, he bore tattoos and a mouth without teeth and was mean, really mean.

“I can’t believe how much you look like Trudy,” he exclaimed. “You’re a spitting image of her.”

“Who’s Trudy?”I asked, wondering if they’ve brought over the wrong man.

“My little sister, your Aunt Trudy.” He frowned, reading my bewildered expression. “Your mom never told you much about my family, did she?”

I shook my head. “Do you know who I am?” I asked him, desperate for clarification because I was swirling about in a tornado.

“You’re my daughter, Rhys.”

I breathed out, my body relaxing into the hard plastic chair. “I didn’t know you were sending me letters, until Patty, mom’s sister, sent me…”

“Yeah I figured that. Patty was more understanding of my situation than your mom.” His green eyes, behind glasses, were glued to my face in awe of me. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are. Last time I saw you, you were toddling about holding your favorite toy, a purple octopus. I don’t know why you were so attached to that thing, maybe because it had lots of arms to hold on to.”

“I have pajamas with octopuses on them,” I told him. I remembered mom showing me photographs of me holding that purple octopus, covered in drool. My mind travel for a second to the octopus on Mr. Ed’s arm, but I quickly blocked it out.

He laughed. His smile is mine. His eyes are mine. His movements are mine.

“So, what are you doing with yourself, these days?” he asked.

“I’m studying English Literature at Kingston Valley University and I work in a burger joint.”

“English literature. Just like your mom.”

“What did you do before you…” killed three people, I was going to say, only to stop myself.

“Well, I was an accountant for the Detroit Public Library.”

I gasped. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this? You were an accountant? And you worked for the library?”

“The Detroit library was where I met your mom.” He grinned, showing crooked teeth in good condition. “They had staffing cuts and I lost my job…”

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