Page 83 of Blind Luck

We knew the stats—on average, it took seven attempts for a woman to leave an abusive partner, and seventy-five percent of deaths from domestic violence happened after the woman ended the relationship. There were so many reasons Selene might choose to stay: fear of retaliation, lack of access to money, fear of homelessness, low self-esteem, a belief in Jace’s threats or apologies. And maybe lurking underneath, there was a frayed thread of love. She had married the man, after all, and he could be charming when he wanted to.

All we could do was remove as many obstacles to her leaving as we could, and hope she took the escape route we offered.

“Did you arrange the meeting with Mr. Fuller Senior yet?” Kelsey asked Jace on-screen. “When I spoke with him on my last trip, he did say he wanted to be kept up to date with any developments, so we really should get a date scheduled.”

“He had to go away for a few days.”

“Oh? I thought I saw him across the lobby this morning.”

“Yeah, he was on his way to the airport.”

“He was walking into the hotel.”

“Then he probably forgot something. Look, he put me in charge of this project—don’t sweat the small stuff.”

I didn’t sweat, but I did give the matter some thought. Why wouldn’t Jace want Kelsey to meet with his father? Afraid she might spill the beans about his sexual proclivities? Or…or…

“Stanley doesn’t know,” I whispered.

Dusk finished crunching a mouthful of apple. “Huh?”

“About the golf course. Stanley Fuller doesn’t know. Or at least, he doesn’t know how far along the project has gotten. Ten bucks says he signed off on the feasibility study, but he doesn’t realise that Jace brought Kelsey here to work on the next stage. When Kelsey said Jace was holding their meetings in his apartment, I figured he was just trying to hit on her—and let’s face it, he does have form—but his wife is there. Think about it—he can explain skulking around with a pretty woman because that’s what he always does, but he can’t justify bringing a top architect to Vegas for weeks on end to work on a project that’s supposed to be in its infancy.”

“So Jace has gone rogue?”

Ever since we’d focused in on the Fullers, I’d been working through my Vegas connections, trying to build up a picture of the family. Stanley was, by all accounts, a sharp businessman who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. But he’d been married to the same woman for the last twenty-two years—his first wife had passed away—and they showed no indication of divorcing. Wife number two showed up with him at various events, usually wearing designer labels and dripping with jewellery. A friend knew her stylist—the consensus was that Marilyn Fuller had made peace with her husband’s philandering ways years ago, and she turned a blind eye as long as he kept her in the lifestyle to which she’d grown accustomed. That was perhaps why I’d made assumptions about Selene’s relationship with Jace.

But Stanley and Marilyn appeared to show remnants of genuine affection toward each other, and they were fond of philanthropy too.

Jackson didn’t spend much time in Vegas, so he was still something of a mystery. He wasn’t married, and since he split from his long-term girlfriend two years ago, I hadn’tfound any evidence of him dating seriously. Word was that he’d decided to focus on golf for now, and his climb in the rankings agreed with that.

Jace? Well, he was different. Men invariably thought he was “savvy, a good businessman” and “smart, knows what he wants and knows how to get it.” Among women, the views weren’t quite so clear-cut. Some found him handsome, charming, and generous. Others described him as “kinda slick” and said, “There’s something off about him, you know what I mean?”

But the most interesting snippet of information had come to light yesterday during a chat with a friend of my old boss’s. When I was twenty and struggling with life, a veteran PI named Morty Coulson had taken me under his wing and taught me most of what I knew about investigative work, and when he passed, I’d inherited a bunch of his contacts. One of those was a realtor named Peggy, and Peggy loved to talk. Last year, she’d heard on the realtor grapevine that Stanley and Jace were going through a rough patch, and Jace had even gone as far as looking for somewhere else to live before ultimately staying in the penthouse at the Neptune. Most of the time. He also owned a two-bedroom apartment in the Arts District, and that was where he took the women who weren’t his wife.

Honestly, I could have kissed Peggy. As it was, I hugged her and promised not to leave it so long between catch-ups next time.

Dusk had grinned when I gave her the news, and I’d caught another glimpse of the crazy in her eyes.

“We can work with that,” she’d said.

Yes, we could.

The Arts District apartment was where Kina was currently waiting with one of her colleagues, a girl new to Vegas who’d made the mistake of getting into Jace Fuller’sbed and ended up with the damage to show for it. Revenge would be so, so sweet.

“Yes, Jace has gone rogue,” I said to Dusk.

“How about Jackson?”

“I’m not sure right now, but I don’t think Stanley’s involved.”

“So, Jace lent Uncle Mike a million bucks in Bitcoin, and when Mike couldn’t pay it back, Jace planned to use it as leverage to get the Galaxy?”

“Exactly. And maybe he used Selene’s money? She doesn’t seem to have much control over her own life, and I bet he has access to her bank accounts.”

“What’s a little financial abuse on top of the emotional abuse?”

My phone pinged with a message.

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