Page 122 of Convict's Game
I already knew he wouldn’t tell me what the money was used for, I’d asked before and been shot down in flames.
I had one final question to ask. “We need to fight for this business, don’t we?”
The pain in his eyes spoke volumes. “I’ll never stop.”
Certainty settled my writhing belly.
That’s all I needed. A reason.
If not for my grandmother, and if not for all the relatives I thought needed it, I had to stick to my guns for the sake of my grandfather’s legacy, and for whoever Kane was protecting. What was I if I didn’t have this?
Chapter 40
Mila
It took until Thursday for me to face the family vault. Seeing Wallace and hearing his challenges had cut me to the bone, and I couldn’t shake the sense of wrongness. That if I went digging any further, I wouldn’t like what I found.
I used my down time in better ways, taking Convict shopping and buying him things I knew he needed. Clothes including cargo pants that looked so good slung low on his hips. A hoodie so he’d be cosy in the cool spring weather, even if he didn’t feel the cold.
Later, in the bathroom, I caught him staring at the toothbrush I’d picked out. He’d been using a spare from a multipack in my cupboard.
Bare-chested, and under the warm lights of the mirror, he glanced up at me. “I don’t think anyone ever bought me one of these before. Not one just for me. I’ve no idea how I know that.” He dropped my gaze. “Thank you. It means something.”
That tiny confession hurt my heart and confused me further.
A message from Cassie finally spurred me into action. She and her boyfriend were at last heading out this evening to capture Yelland. She suggested Lovelyn, Genevieve, and I meet at the warehouse, and I doubled down, asking Lovelyn to meetme earlier. Convict had work to do there anyway, and Cassie gave us the run of her apartment where the files I’d stolen had been locked in a safe.
Cross-legged on the floorboards, I stared at the stack I’d sorted.
Adjacent to me, Lovelyn made a note on the pad. “Fourteen green-coded files, six orange, and three yellow.”
I blew out a breath that stirred the lock of blonde hair falling in my eyes. “Now the hard part. What on earth did he mean by it?”
“People make lists for all kinds of reasons, but it usually comes down to a practical purpose such as treating the groups differently. Either communicating with them separately, or perhaps in the way he paid them.”
This was why I’d wanted her help. Not only was she smart, but she exuded calm methodology in her thinking.
I nodded. “Such as the green group might be higher needs or more important than the orange?”
“Perhaps. Does that resonate with what you know about the people?”
I pondered this. “No. I haven’t met all of them, so some I only know from my grandfather’s stories, but recently, I went to visit three families, one from the green files and two from orange.”
She twisted her lips. “Was there a clear pattern? I’m guessing not from your frown.”
“Nope. In the orange corner, the Marchant-Smythes, a family of three, are not hard up, though they grouch that they are, and the Kingleys are more arguably in need as they’re elderly and have carers. The green-coded family, the Grants, seemed to be living pretty well.”
“Then it’s something else. Mysteries are meant to be solved. Let’s engage our brains.”
We considered the positions on the family tree, geographical area, the date they were brought into the fold, and whether their file appeared to have been updated. All non-starters.
Lovelyn was undaunted. “Perhaps another approach. The yellow group appears to be an outlier with so few in it.”
I picked up the stack, though I’d already pieced through it. My file was first, then Kane’s, and lastly an unidentified one. The third was empty, no name on the front and no paperwork inside. “Let’s assume yellow means close family. My brother and me plus probably our dad.”
She tapped her pen. “If so, we’re missing a file for your Uncle Wallace, suggesting the family vault is incomplete.”
I thought about the person who’d been sneaking around the office when we’d raided it. All signs pointed to them being the one who’d broken into the room before us. It stood to reason that they might also have stolen files. Perhaps we’d disturbed them doing it.
