Page 46 of Black Bird

CHAPTER 8

TRICK OR TREAT

As leaves continued to turn vibrant shades of red and yellow, some brown … some falling, Conrad Stratford rattled the ice in his whiskey glass and looked out over his manicured property. The air was getting chillier, and although he knew it was his own fault for becoming the man he was, he oftentimes missed the days when things were simpler. When they were quieter, and a storm wasn’t always looming of some kind over his family’s head. He had done this. If his father had still been alive, he’d be running him into the ground, instead of running him into office. He looked down at the newspaper in his lap, the photo taken nights ago of his son’s fiancé, who by all standards, couldn’t seem to keep herself out of trouble as of late. She was beginning to be a steady pain in his ass, and he was growing tired of dealing with her.

Specter had emailed him this morning saying that she’d sent over all necessary documents to start work this week. He found it odd that she’d recovered enough from something as violent as a vampire attack to be ready to start so quickly, but he could at least admire her dedication. Maybe now things would start progressing a little quicker and they could all be done with it. He hoped that when it was all over, everyone could walk away satisfied. But things were never that simple. Something in his rotten bones told him somebody in this equation wouldn’t come out alive.

“A little early for scotch, isn’t it?” Brent’s voice chirped over his shoulder, coming to sit at the patio table across from him.

“I’d say not, especially if I were the one dealing with shit like this.” Conrad spat, tossing the newspaper across the table. “You’re losing your grip on that leash, son.”

Brent didn’t touch the paper, instead staring at it and feathering his jaw. “Nah, Dad … there was never a leash to begin with.” He met his eyes and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box and sliding it toward him. “It’s over. I’m not gonna be part of … whatever this is.”

“What the hell did you do, Brent.”

“I didn’t doanything. She doesn’t want this anymore. I can’t force her to feel something that isn’t there.”

Conrad swirled his scotch and drummed his fingertips on the table. “It doesn’t have a damn thing to do with feelings. You had one job.”

Brent leaned across the table, flushing with rage. Conrad couldn’t remember the last time his son had seemed so bold. “I never agreed to anyjob. You tricked me into talking up a girl I ended up having feelings for. You never told me why. You never offered me anything to get whatever it is you want from her. All I’ve heard is threats. Whatever it is you’re up to,I want no part of it. Sarah is a good person. You try to hurt her, I can promise you, I’ll make you regret it.”

Conrad huffed a laugh. “So, you’re threateningmenow? That’s the first time I’ve seen a set of balls on you.”

“Stand down on whatever it is, before someone gets hurt. I don’t care to know all the shit you do behind closed doors, Dad. You used to care about more than money. You used to care about Mom. When’s the last time you’ve gone to see her? Do you even know how bad off she is?”

It took every ounce of his self-control not to explode. Conrad clenched his teeth and gripped his glass tighter. “Everything I fucking do is for your mother, you little prick. Don’t ask me to stand down when you knownothing.” Brent settled back into his chair. “If that girl truly left you, then I warned you what was going to happen should I have to deal with this shit myself.”

Brent tossed his phone across the table and Conrad looked down at it, picking it up and staring at a picture of himself. “You wanna explain this to me?”

“Why should I explain myself to you?”

“Well, if there’s something you’re so desperate to get, and you’re hell bent on keeping secrets, I’d say you’re doing a real fine job of concealing yourself. I’m a lawyer. In this business, we would consider that reasonable doubt. In case you were wondering.”

Conrad smirked, narrowing his eyes, and staring his son down in challenge. “No legal system can save me, Brent. Can’t save you, or your witchy little harlot either.”

“What have you gotten us into? More importantly …why?” Brent threw his hands up and slammed them onto the table. “What the hell are you doing? Why is she so damn important to you?”

Conrad only stared at him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed between them before he finally retorted. “Unless you’re going to help the situation, leave the rock and get the fuck out. I don’t wanna see you around here for a while. You want out, then stay away from the bitch. Stay away from here. Stay away from this city. There’s a storm coming, son. And you just let our only shelter from it come crashing down on us.”

Brent stood, buttoning his jacket. “Have it your way. I meant what I said. If you hurt her in any way … father or not, I’ll kill you. And believe you, me … I can cover it up myself and nobody will miss you, Dad.Nobody.” He lingered for a second before turning on his heel and straightening his spine as he stormed off.

He knew his son was right. Knew that he did very little for this city, or this state for that matter. All of it seemed second to his true motives, but the less anyone knew about it, the better. The more Brent hated him, the better. Maybe it would hurt him less if he didn’t make it out of this with his heart still beating, and he finally understood the truth. Time wasn’t on anyone’s side. There wasn’t a price he wouldn’t pay to get what he needed … even if that price was someone else’s life. He stared at the small black box covered in crushed velvet, turning his glass up and finishing off his scotch. The rustling of drying leaves shifting in the autumn wind did little to comfort him as he slammed the glass to the table.

“What about a sexy cat?” Wren grinned as she held up a black, fuzzy headband with ears on the top and wagged her brows at Sarah, who seemed completely disinterested.

“Yeah … that’s good. Go to the party dressed as a sexy version of Denver.”

She slapped the headband back on the rack as she continued searching for other ideas. “It doesn’t have to be black. I could do a sexy tiger … fluff my hair like a mane—” Wren’s eyes bulged, and she dropped her mouth open in a gaping smile. “Holy shit! A sexy lion! And I could tease the crap out of my hair! That’s brilliant!”

Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes, peeling through any other possible options as they browsed down the aisle. “Jesus, Wren.”

She seemed a little better the past few days. Still on edge, and still battling through her trauma, but Wren had found herself tremendously proud of how hard her best friend was fighting through her obstacles to get to some state of normalcy. The detective had proven to be a big part of that, although every time Wren fished for any dirty details about whatever was going on between them, Sarah had shut it down pretty quickly. While they usually shared everything with each other, Wren was understanding of all the reasons this was different. Even with all the suspicion trickling into their lives with big names like Conrad Stratford—the father of the guy that Sarah had been about to marry and had spent the past two years of her life with—they’d been no closer to figuring out who had done this to Sarah, or why. No closer to figuring out what happened to her mother, or why some unnamed group was still trying to pry into her friend’s medical history.

She wished she could take her mind off of it all. Just have one night of raw, undiluted fun. She just wanted to see Sarah happy. It would be even better if some of that happiness was in thanks to her. “Are you sure you’re up to it? The party, I mean?” Wren asked, pausing her search to look over at her. Sarah didn’t stop plundering through costumes, or accessories when she spoke.

“Yeah … I think I need it. Especially if this job turns out to be a disaster. I just—I need an out.”

“Well, I can’t think of a better way to party than an open bar and a club full of tattooed misfits.” Wren smiled, turning back toward the jumbled mixture of outfits.

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