Page 125 of The Change
“Reliable sources,” Jo said. “Do you think there might be security footage from the Pointe that shows Rocca at Harding’s house?”
“Of course,” Claude said. “The entire neighborhood is covered by cameras. And the guys at the front gate keep a log of everyone who visits and the time they arrive. So yeah, if Rocca was there that night, we can definitely prove it. I’ll be happy to gather the evidence.”
“That would be great,” Jo said. “’Cause until we round up all the bad guys, there’s a chance I could end up dead. There’s no doubt in my mind that Rocca was responsible for Josh Gibbon’s death.”
“Then let’s take the bastard down,” Claude said. “I’m not going to stand by and let him murder anyone else. If he touches a hair on your head, I’ll kill him myself.”
“My husband would prefer that I avoid getting murdered in the first place. This whole thing has got him really worried,” Jo admitted. “Art’s doing some work in the city, and he wants Lucy and me to move there for a while. I know it’s a lot to ask, but maybe we could pause our self-defense program until things get under control?”
“You can’t go to Manhattan,” Claude announced with her arms crossed and her mind clearly made up.
“I can’t?” Jo felt her heart sink.
“Of course not. Brooklyn is a much better place to live these days. Leonard owns a building downtown. The ground floor would make a great location for the first New York City branch of Furious Fitness. If we started a club there, we’d get girls from every possible background, which is exactly what we want. And I happen to know that there’s a great three-bedroom apartment available on the tenth floor. We could throw that in as part of the bargain.”
“You’re serious?” Jo asked.
“Completely,” Claude said.
“Why would you do something like that for me?”
Claude’s nose wrinkled as if the conversation had gone bad. “Thatis a question no man would ever ask. I’m not your fairy godmother, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she told Jo. “I’m doing it because I’ll never be able to find a partner who’s as good as you.”
Five minutes after Franklin got up to make breakfast, Nessa opened her eyes to see Breanna and Jordan standing at the end of her bed in front of the window. The sunlight streamed around them, forming heavenly coronas around their bodies. Nessa sat straight up and shrieked at the sight.
“We’re alive, Mama,” Jordan said, reaching out an arm for Nessa to pinch.
“Don’t do that to me again,” Nessa ordered. She could still hear her pounding heart in her ears. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you two at school?”
“Don’t you know the rule?” Breanna asked. “You get a day off whenever your mom finds a dead body.”
Jordan sat down on the side of the bed. “The police say Josh Gibbon committed suicide,” she said. “Did he?”
“No,” Nessa set them straight.
“Who do you think got to him?”
Nessa shook her head. “I don’t want you two getting involved in all of this. You shouldn’t even be here. This town isn’t safe.”
“You think we aren’t involved already?” Breanna asked.
“You think the city’s any safer than the island right now?” Jordan added. “The same man’s been parked across the street from our dorm for the last two nights.”
Nessa’s face must have shown her horror because Breanna jumped in. “Don’t worry, Mama. We know what we’re doing. We saw the man, but we made sure he didn’t see us.”
“We figured it would be best if we all stuck together for a little bit until things settle down.”
“It’s gonna get worse before it gets any better,” Nessa told her two girls. She could feel it deep down in her bones.
“We know,” Jordan said, just as the doorbell rang.
A few moments later, they heard Franklin coming up the stairs. “Nessa?” He kept his voice low. “There’s a lady at the door. She needs to talk to you about a sensitive subject. She says her name is Annette.”
Jordan and Breanna ran to the window.
“You sure have made some weird friends since we’ve been gone,” Breanna said.
Nessa threw on a robe and went downstairs. Before she opened the door, she peeked through the peephole. Waiting on her front porch was an unfamiliar white woman wearing a dressing gown identical to her own.
