Page 4 of The Shadow King's Brother

I nod slowly, my heart sinking. “It was…”

I can’t believe he missed it.

They won’t take him back looking like this, not in this state. He was a good cop, one of the best, but he’s lost, drowning.

“Shit, I forgot, I’m so fucking sorry, but this is more important, it can’t wait, Vickie. Please.” he hisses.

“You need to get yourself together, it’s not just for yourself, for the kids— think about Carol… about—” I reach out to him.

Instead of letting me, he swats my hand away like an annoying fly. “Just look into it. Promise me that,” his eyes are dark like he’s begging for his very life.

“Fine, I promise…” I say, the words escaping my lips before I can stop them. “What have you got for me?”

He pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket, unfolding it slowly, his fingers trembling. “Found this at the old safe house. It’s a list of names, some addresses... but look at the bottom.” He points to a single line written in smudged ink. “It says B.C. at the bottom. I tried to look into what it is, but I couldn’t get anything concrete from my sources.” He meets my eyes, his expression serious.

My heart skips a beat.

B.C.?Could it be the same one?

I don’t let my surprise show, but it takes everything in me not to jump out of my chair. I squeeze his hand, trying to steady myself, and bite my lip to hold back the surge of tension. “B.C.?” I ask. “You’re sure?”

Jackson’s eyes are intense. “Yeah, pretty sure. You got something on them?”

I force a breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “I don’t know... but you need to calm down. You’re running off like a rocket again. This isn’t the way.” I pause, not wanting to fuel his spiraling. “Let me look into it first. Then we’ll talk.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “I knew it! A clue!”

“Jackson,” I reply, trying to stay composed. “It might be nothing.”

“I know it’s something. I know it!” His voice is sharp. “I’ll finally find out who killed Carol and make them pay—”

“Hey,” I get up and step closer to him, grabbing his shoulder gently. “Carol took her own life. We went over this. The police investigated, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, not enough! They didn’t do their fucking job,” he bites, pacing now, his energy turning frantic.

“Please, just calm down—”

But before I can get the rest out, he’s gone, leaving the door to swing shut with a soft click, and the room still humming with his energy.

I glance at the mess Jackson left behind: the half-eaten apple on my desk, bits of it scattered across the floor. I rub the chi-rho tattoo on my wrist, a quiet attempt to ground myself before I turn back to my computer.

Could this B.C. thing actually be something? Or am I just getting paranoid, looking for connections that aren’t there?

I search ‘B.C.’ again, but this time I add more keywords ‘company’, ‘business’, ‘corporation’. The results are underwhelming.

There is a mention of a company called ‘Broad Corporations,’ but their website is vague as well, just like Mighty Machines— a financial company, that could mean anything. It’s hard to tell.

It’s probably nothing, but I jolt it down anyway. The company is located downtown in a nondescript building, and it recently changed owner. The details are thin—almost suspiciously so.

Change in ownership… Wait, didn’t Mighty Machines change owners, and that’s why the name switched to B.C.?

I lean back in my chair, my mind drifting to all the ‘clues’ from last year. Each one turned out to be a dead end, just like this one probably will. The investigation into Carol’s suicide, for example. We found out she’d gone off her depression meds and had spiraled down a dark hole. Jackson blames himself for not noticing sooner, and I get it—he can’t let it go. Now he’s convinced she was murdered.

Then there’s Vinny De Luca. He’s still out there.Free. I shiver at the thought of him.

The knife at my entrance, his hands all over my body.

What would’ve happened if Elio hadn’t distracted him? I still see his cold, dark eyes when I close mine at night. Vinny is like a splinter under my skin, the kind you can’t get rid of.

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