Page 90 of Shattered Hearts

He disconnects, his hands shaking.

“The Blacks don’t own Quiet Meadows.”

Zane laughs, incredulous. “You’re like a fucking pit bull. You don’t give up.”

“I never will, Maddox. Remember that.”

Punching in another number, he scoffs. “My dad would have liked you.”

Hiding a smile, I ride the compliment all the way to the city.

“Iona Belsely landed on her feet.”

“A step down, maybe, but not too bad.”

When we neared the city limits, Zane was in control of himself again, jabbering on his phone, snapping orders. The Blacks owned extensive property. Between calls, Zane explained he couldn’t actually buy everything the Blacks had acquired over the years nor did he want to, but the skyscraper was a top priority along with a few other buildings that housed businesses that could bring in big paydays if run legally. Hotels, restaurants, nightclubs, but not Ladies and Gentlemen. “That place could burn to the ground and I wouldn’t give two fucks,” Zane said.

He seemed satisfied by the time we pulled into the parking lot of a little assisted living facility.

“Did the Feds ever find anything on her?” I ask, turning the key in the ignition, the engine clicking and cooling in the silence.

“Nope. I mean, she could have been lying left, right, and center, but there weren’t any money trails like there were for Zarah’s doctor. She was paid well, but that doesn’t mean she was keeping secrets. If she was in Ash’s pocket, they hid it well enough no one found any evidence. Come on.” Zane gets out and leaves his briefcase on the floorboard.

I attach Baby’s service vest to her back. I don’t want her to sit in the truck by herself. I don’t know what Zane thinks Iona Belsely knows and we could be a while.

The lobby smells like school glue and old people, and Baby presses her body against my leg. It’s not the old people. It’s the scent of death. People come here to sit around and wait to die. Pleasant.

“We have an appointment to see Iona Belsely,” Zane tells the receptionist.

Her eyes widen. She knows exactly who he is. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

She picks up a phone, presses a button, and murmurs into the receiver. Hanging up, she says, “Miss Belsely can see you now. She’s down the hall, first door on your left.”

“Thanks.”

The building is homier than Quiet Meadows.A lothomier than Quiet Meadows. The facility’s carpeted, and the walls are painted a beige tinged with a pink cast. Potted plants are everywhere, and several conversation areas invite friends and family to sit with their loved ones and chat. The hallway that leads us to Iona’s office is covered in the same dark green carpet, and there are pretty watercolor prints hanging on the walls.

Her door’s shut, and Zane raps only once. The cocky son of a bitch doesn’t wait for a reply and barges his way in.

I’ve never met Iona Belsely. All I know of her is that she used to be Quiet Meadows’ director. Any and everything went throughher. There wasn’t much mention of her in the news—maybe they couldn’t charge her with anything.

“Mr. Maddox,” she says, sitting behind a massive desk and glaring, her mouth turned down into a perpetual frown. “And you are?” she snaps at me.

“Gage Davenport. This is Baby. She’s harmless.”

Her gaze softens for a moment. She must like dogs. “I highly doubt that. Nothing associated with the Maddoxes is harmless.”

“I’m sorry you’re still stinging after what happened,” Zane says, sliding into a seat without being invited to do so.

I follow suit, dropping into a mint green Naugahyde chair, the armrests a blonde oak. Baby sits next to me, her body stiff, alert. She’s on the job.

Iona folds her hands on a blotter, paperwork covering every inch. “It will always shame me that I didn’t know what was going on under my own roof.”

Zane shakes his head. “You can’t mean to tell me you had no idea what was happening at the facility? That my sister was an experiment?”

Iona’s eyes widen. “What are you talking about?”

“Ashton Black was drugging her—”

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