“With ice cream,” Brendan murmurs, sweetening the deal.
“God, that does sound good,” I agree. “Mickey, those people…”
“There were about fifty of them,” he says softly. “Men, women, and children. I have them stashed somewhere safe, explained they were free and that we were going to help them. My sister speaks a bit of Russian, which helped her communicate to some of the people there. There are so many different walks of people that were on the auction block.”
“Do we have medical care for them?” I ask, thinking about Dr. Kurtz. He’d hate being pulled into this, but he’d do it. Leaning against the car in my warm jacket, I wait for Mickey’s reply.
“Yes, they’re all taken care of for tonight,” he says. “We’ll need to decide what the future looks like though.”
“I’d like to go see them tomorrow,” I say. “Figure out who wants to go back to their lives or needs to be placed with social services for the kids. Or if that’s a good idea at all. The auction house is officially closed, yes?”
“Yes,” Brendan says with a nod. “Before we left, Joe told me that he forced her to sign paperwork to sign the building, the business, and all of her belongings over to him. The building is large enough that we can possibly turn it into something positive. Maybe a school?”
“Or a rec center?” I suggest, chewing my lip. “It’s right in the middle of a rough neighborhood. I’m sure Trila made a lot of money from the misery of others, can we use some of it to get this up and running?”
Joe joins us as I finish speaking, and he nods. “I don’t want any of that blood tainted money,” he grunts. “I’m not a saint, but I won’t fuck with trafficking. Take it all, I think a really solid rec center would be great.”
“Child services is so broken in Chicago,” Mickey mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. The sun is beginning to set, more evidence that it’s been a long ass day. “They aren’t going to know what to do with these kids. Rory, can we talk to some of the family about fostering them? Paperwork so they can go to school and shit can be forged, I’m not worried about that. Nathan’s son does good work and he’s only seventeen.”
My lips twitch at the idea of keeping it in the family this way, but it’s hard to find a decent forger with a quick turnaround. These kids are going to need so much.
“Therapy,” I say immediately. “I want to be able to offer it to those who want it. The kids especially should have some kind of support after everything. I don’t know how far things went, but…”
“The kids were groomed to do whatever Cormac wanted,” Mickey says, swallowing thickly. “The way they acted when I walked in made it obvious that they were willing to do anything to not be hurt. If we don’t get them help, a lot of these people won’t survive the next few weeks, because they’ll kill themselves.”
“Laura Mills works for the police department, but is close to my aunt,” Joe says. “Dad’s sister to be exact. Laura went into police work as a therapist even though she knows all about the mafia presence in Chicago. Laura still visits Aunt Cara, has tea with her, and sees really fucked up things every day.”
“Cara told me about her,” Rory mutters. “I’ll call my sister and speak to her, see what she thinks so she can call Laura. I think you have good instincts, Líadan and that you’re right.”
“If we can have Laura present when I come visit tomorrow, I think it may help,” I say, yawning.
“That’s enough,” Rory says, clapping his hands. “Off with you now. Go to bed. You’ve done more than enough to help clean up your father’s messes. Take care of yourself.”
“Okay,” I admit, yawning again. “Ugh, you’re right, I’m done for today. Can you set all of that up and text Brendan please?”
I never bothered to get a phone after mine was burned to a crisp. We have to get rid of this vehicle as well, since it’s not ours.
Opening the car door, I slip into the seat as I wave goodbye to the men who have helped me so much today. Daddy’s funeral is the day after tomorrow, and I can only hope I don’t need to do anything but show up to remind myself the bastard really is gone.
“What are you thinking about?” Brendan asks as he settles into the driver seat.
“Daddy’s funeral,” I mutter. “I don’t know if anything needs to be done for it.”
“Nah, I called the funeral center earlier today. It’s all settled. You don’t even have to go to the viewing and funeral if you don’t want to,” he says, turning on the car. “We have to dump this vehicle, baby. Can you hang in there for a bit longer?”
“Mmhmm,” I say, shivering from how exhausted I am. My body is shutting down, and it fucking hurts.
“We’ll take a ride share to the hotel and then switch to something nicer,” Brendan says, swinging the car onto the road.
“Okay,” I say, dropping my head back onto the headrest. “I want to go to the funeral. When is the viewing again?”
“Tomorrow night,” he says. “If we go, I want you to wear a black dress with a slit in it. I plan to do really fucked up things to you.”
“With an invitation like that, how can I possibly say no?” I ask, an exhausted laugh releasing from my lips.
At least it’s something to look forward to.
Friday morning