Page 101 of Devious Gambit

“Yeah,” I half-laughed, “by whose fucking army?”

“I did warn you,” he sneered. I’d never seen him so serious, almost afraid.

“If you know something go to the fucking police, Ridge,” I stressed. “Once the perps are caught that lady detective will get off our backs. Until then, we’re all suspects and it’s pissing me off. Jeez, man, I just want to live in peace.”

“Yeah, it’s not that simple,” he said. “None of it is that simple. Just drop it, Jace. I mean it, drop it.”

FORTY ONE

Rhys

I received a letter from my felon father.

He was hoping I would visit him again sometime soon but understood that it’s a long way to go. We are one in the same, my father and I. Terrible murderers who killed people that were not exactly innocents. Sure, that’s my way of trying to justify it all when the guilt kept me up at night. One day, Sweeney’s body will rise to the surface and when they examine him, they’ll discover he’s received a bullet to the heart. Until then, I wait in anticipation.

After reading Brett Moody’s letter, which was mostly asking about my life, I started writing a letter back to him. I wanted to know what was going on in his mind when he stepped into Heinrich’s house on that day over sixteen years ago. I’d read every article I could find on the incident and struggled to imagine that who sat before me in the prison could be capable of such crimes. As he said, desperate people do desperate things. I had so many questions to ask him.

1. Where did you hide for three years?

2. How did you survive on the run? How did you buy food etcetera?

3. Did you know the Klimt was there before you broke into Heinrich’s house?

4. Did you get the Klimy appraised?

5. Was the house alarmed and had security. It seemed far too easy for him to break in.

There were more questions, but I didn’t want to overwhelm him. I tucked a selfie of Hayden and me inside the envelope, because he was asking about boyfriends and hoped a nice man was looking after me.

I rang mom hoping she’d be able to fill in some gaps.

“You’re grasping at straws,” she uttered down the phone line. It was unusually quiet in her household for a change.

“What do you mean?”

“This is typical of you, Rhys. You’re a dreamy romantic searching for reason.”

“I guess.”

“You’re not going to find what you’re looking for. Your father and the Landers brothers planned it all out.”

“Had Dad ever used a gun before?”

She growled. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?

“Your father is a very secretive man. I didn’t know he lost his job until after all this happened.”

Another attribute I inherited from the Moody’s. “Did you know about his mom dying?”

“Yes. He was pretty upset when she was diagnosed. He and Trudy were close to their mom after their father left when they were kids.”

“See, I didn’t know this. Did he contact you the three years he was on the run?”

She hesitated. “Yes. Twice. He sent a couple of postcards using an alias. Called himself Chad Kiedis, named after two members of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, his favorite band. My phone was bugged by police and the house was being watched twenty four seven and I think he knew that. He sent you birthday cards also.”

“Why did you give up on him?” I asked. “He did one stupid thing and you dumped him like a hot potato.”

---