Page 76 of Tangled
“I could make the video public.”
“You could, but what would that get you? Certainly not any money. Newspapers only pay for shit on celebrities.”
“Showing the world what a true pig you are is worth it enough,” she countered.
He leaned forward as he laughed. “You’re nothing, you little bitch. You make that video public and I’ll have it and you discredited so fast that you won’t know what hit you.” He paused, then added, “And then, a few weeks after I reveal what a lying piece of trash you are, you’ll find yourself dead of an overdose that no one will question because of your pathetic life.”
“Just like Gracie,” she said on a whisper.
He inclined his head. “Just like Gracie.”
Scarlett paused, wondering if she’d gotten enough information for the Feds to use against Rathwell, or if she should keep him talking. As if sensing her thoughts, she saw the back of Jessica’s head tip toward the doorway.
She breathed a sigh of relief knowing it would soon be over. Before she walked out, though, there was one more thing she needed to say.
“I see your point, Rathwell,” she said. “But you should know that right now, a friend of mine is having coffee with your wife somewhere across town.”
“Mywife?” he demanded. “What the hell does mywifehave to do with any of this?” That comment gave her pause. Not because she didn’t have an answer, but because she had to admit, out of all the things Rathwell had said in the past thirty minutes, that was almost the most outrageous. How could the fact that he was a corrupt cop who lifted drugs from dealers in exchange for not arresting them, assaulted prostitutes, and murdered peoplenothave something to do with his wife? The woman he’d chosen to share his life with. The woman who would likely be devastated by his actions.
“She seems like a nice woman,” Scarlett said. “So we wanted to show her the video—yes, the video—and give her a heads-up about you and everything that you might be facing in the next few days, weeks, and months.” Scarlett felt a thrill of victory—a cheap thrill, but still a thrill—when Rathwell went pale. “I wonder what kind of defense attorney you’ll be able to afford without her money?”
“I’ll fucking kill you,” he said through clenched teeth.
She’d expected that response, and she smiled and shrugged. “You were planning on doing it anyway, weren’t you?”
“I was,” he admitted. “But my timeline just accelerated.”
He had his hand under the table, and she suspected he was either reaching for his gun or had it in hand already. She didn’t love the idea of a gun being pointed at her, but she was confident he wouldn’t shoot her. Not in the coffee shop. And there were enough people around her to prevent him from forcing her to walk out with him.
“It won’t change anything,” she said. “Your wife will still know. And you’ll be left wondering who else has the video. Is that a way you want to live?”
His head twitched to the left, as if he was having a hard time controlling his muscles. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he said. He did, although it was a good bluff.
“What you believe or don’t doesn’t change the facts,” she said. “And the facts are that you are going to be exposed for not just the murder of Gracie Lopez, but also rape, abuse of power, corruption, and all sorts of the things that my federal friends can think of.”
His breathing had grown so shallow and so rapid that she wondered if he was going to have a heart attack. She wouldn’t mourn him if he did, but she did want to see him, and his deeds, dragged into the light of day. He deserved everything that would happen to him.
“The Feds?” he asked. “How would someone like you, someone who grew up in the gutters of LA, know anyone who could do anything to me?”
She glanced up as a couple of folks started walking toward them. She’d not met any of the FBI agents Chad had brought in, but she guessed she—they—were about to.
She smiled and leaned forward. “You’d be surprised who I know,” she said. Then, pushing out of the booth, she added, “You, of all people, should know that looks rarely ever tell the full story.”
He started to rise, to follow her, but two agents stopped him.
She smiled to herself as they began reciting his Miranda rights. The Feds would take care of him now. She’d done her part and found justice for her friend.
She could all but hear Gracie cheering for her as she walked out the door and to her future.
EPILOGUE
Scarlett laughed at something Anthony said as she set a plate of warm mandazi—anEast African doughnut-like treat her mom used to make—on the table.
“She did, I swear she did,” Anthony said, doubling down on his claim that ten-month-old Maya had called him “Grampy.”
“I’m sure she did, dear,” Beth said, patting her husband’s thigh and giving him a kiss on the cheek. In her lap, Ruby made a smacking sound with her lips, and her grandfather plucked her from his wife’s lap and gave her a raspberry on her belly. Her squeal of delight caught the attention of her sister Maya, sitting across the table in her uncle Mitch’s lap. Mitch dutifully mimicked his dad, and soon both girls were filling the room with their belly laughs.
“Sit,” Brad said to her, motioning to the seat beside him. They’d just finished Christmas breakfast and were wrapping up with chai, coffee, and mandazi. They’d rest for a few hours, then meet up with the entire family at William Warwick’s home for Christmas dinner.
