Page 60 of Cruel Dreams

I think she’s joking, a sarcastic story to loosen me up, and I stare, but her face doesn’t break. “You’re not kidding.”

“Go look for yourself.”

I want to, but I stay seated. It will be hard enough for her to blend in with a pink cast, red hair, and two German shepherds at her feet without me rushing in and ogling her. Enough people will be staring.

She’ll never cease to amaze me.

Another thirty minutes of mind-numbing conversation go by. The mood relaxes, the drinks flow, and the sun fully sets, leaving a pink stain to the sky.

Several people have offered their condolences concerning Nathalie’s death, and I accept them as graciously as I can. It’s difficult to pretend to be sorry when all she did was cause trouble and almost get Stella and Quinn killed. They ask how the investigation into her murder is going, but there is no investigation. There are too many witnesses and Ash won’t avoid prosecution. It’s a courtesy to me he’s not already behind bars.

Guests start to drift inside, and Mel says, “They’re going to start soon.”

I grip the flash drive in my pocket.

Mayor Huxley’s mingling, enjoying the praise and credit of keeping King’s Crossing crime free. Of course, no one brings up the gangs’ turf war that happened not long ago. That’s only riffraff sorting itself out. No one at this party would care about that as long as the violence didn’t affect them.

Instead of taking umbrage, I swallow my own shame. If I hadn’t met Stella, I wouldn’t have cared, either, and maybe that’s what my father wanted to do with the nonprofit he was trying to organize. Open my eyes to the world around me. A five foot, blue-eyed blonde did that, serving me coffee in chipped mugs and buying me pellets to feed goats.

Huxley struts the manicured yard like a proud peacock holding a lowball glass of scotch, and my skin crawls. I’ll never understand how someone could be so despicable. It’s disgusting, and Mel feels the same way, swearing under her breath.

“Let’s go,” she says, standing.

I follow.

It’s time.

A woman wearing a black pantsuit flutters around the library moving chairs and directing waitstaff. A small dais is set up at the front of the room, and a podium decorated with the Minnesota state flag sits in front of an enormous flat screen TV.

“Where is the audio-visual equipment for Mr. Black and Miss Guthrie’s presentation?” I ask her. “I have additional slides to add to their PowerPoint.”

Frowning, she gestures to the back wall, but she doesn’t stop me. In the corner of the room, a woman I recognize is sitting behind a small desk tapping on a laptop.

“She works in Ash’s office,” I say to Mel, tilting my head toward the girl and laptop and handing her the flash drive. “When the presentation starts, you’ll have to find a way to access her computer. Give me the signal, and I’ll interrupt them at the podium.”

“I got it. Leave it to me.”

I lean against a wooden column and survey the guests.

We decided I wouldn’t cut in until Nora and Ash were ten to fifteen minutes into their presentation. Enough time to let them think the evening is going to go off without a problem.

Banks steps into the room. We make a few seconds’ worth of eye contact and he moves on.

Max stands in the middle of the room sipping a drink, a hand shoved into a pocket, looking at ease, as if he attended something like this every day.

Willow flits around the room, her head down, only pausing to speak if spoken to. Out of anyone in this situation, I feel sorry for her the most. Even if she’s not associated with her husband’s and son’s business dealings, the citizens of King’s Crossing will labelher a pariah and they’ll drive her out of the city. If she stays out of spite, she’ll turn into a recluse, guilty through blood.

The mayor’s wife might leave by choice. After the humiliation her husband will experience tonight, she may not want to stay and live through the fallout. I don’t blame her. I know how difficult it is when the residents of King’s Crossing decide to convict you on their terms.

Governor Guthrie jumps up onto the dais, stands behind the podium, and taps the microphone to claim everyone’s attention. The room quiets immediately, and besides the waiters and waitresses working the room, everyone is focused on him.

“Thank you. For those who don’t know, I’m Alan Guthrie,” he pauses to let everyone lightly laugh, “Minnesota’s proud governor. I appreciate you coming tonight and donating to such a worthy cause. When you think about human trafficking, you don’t think it’s something that can happen here. It’s something that happens somewhere else.Tosomeone else. Something you read about in the paper then throw into recycling and forget. But the fact is, thousands of women, children, and yes, even men, are either sold into the sex trade or are exploited every year. The Renegade River is often used for transport of these victims. Unfortunately, that’s only the beginning, and that’s where my daughter, Eleanor, and Ashton Black come in. I’ll let them have the room in a moment, but I want to say I’m honored to be the governor of such a fine state. King’s Crossing is a metropolis of art and commerce. There’s opportunity in this city. We make that happen. We make that work. Every year, the population in King’s Crossing grows by five percent, and that brings challenges. Challenges that Mayor Huxley confronts head-on because he loves this city, this state, just as much as we do.”

Governor Guthrie pauses and Mayor Huxley raises his glass in a toast.

The audience claps.

Max looks over his shoulder and meets my eyes. I know exactly what he’s thinking, and I agree. If we could harness all the hypocrisy in this room, we could power King’s Crossing for the next ten years.

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