Page 123 of The Trust We Broke
He points to Wren’s hair.
Wren looks down at the ends of their hair. “Matrix.”
Catfish side-eyes me, as confused as I am. “What?”
Wren finally looks up. “Think the green and black of the Matrix movie. Less neon, though, because I didn’t want to bleach my hair.”
“Huh,” Catfish says, then shoots forward in his chair. “The chick in that movie was smoking hot. All that PVC and leather.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, you remember her outfit.”
Catfish shrugs. “In fairness, I remember her body and the way she could kick ass in heels. My mom loved all those movies, would watch them at least once a month. They were the source of many an uncomfortable teenage boner.”
Wren palms their forehead. “I think you’ve forgotten this isn’t the clubhouse and we aren’t your brothers.”
Catfish chuckles. “What’re you going to do? Complain to HR?”
The lawyer in me has all sorts of thoughts on this conversation, but I can’t help but smile as I shake my head. “Can we get some focus, please? Wren. You were talking about my dad.”
“I’ve loaded all the data I have into a machine learning application,” Wren says. “It’s cross-referencing with your father’s case and client list and with online resources about the Midtown Rebels. It will be quicker at assimilating all this new information while we wait to fill the gaps.”
“Wait. What if we’re looking in the wrong place?” Catfish says. He gestures over the table at all the gadgets. “We’re assuming that the intel we need is digital. What if it’s not. What if it’s still physical?”
I sit forward too. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a time gap in the data,” Catfish says. “And your father isn’t a tech wizard. What if there are more notebooks somewhere?”
“Oh, God. Or another laptop, with the information held locally.” I think, for a second. “I searched Dad’s law office, but I never searched Dad’s office at home.”
Catfish nods. “Exactly.”
“I’ll go check,” I say, jumping to my feet. “I’m not much use while Wren is running all the data.”
“I’ll go with you,” Catfish says.
I shake my head. “No. Your job is to protect Wren. It’s literally ten minutes away. It’s daylight. It’s public. I’ll be fine. I’m probably the one person who can come and go from here andnotdraw attention. And I still have Dad’s truck with access to the front gate. I can be in and out. If Mom’s home, I’ll just tell her I’ve come for more of my stuff.”
Catfish looks torn.
“Look, I’ll call Grudge. I’ll let him know where I’m going and have him meet me. Okay?”
“Fine,” Catfish says, reaching for the sheathed knife on his belt. “Take this.”
“You’re over worrying,” I say. “It’ll look weirder if I show up and Mom sees me carrying a large knife.”
“At least, take it with you in your truck. I’ll feel better,” Catfish says.
“Bingo,” Wren says suddenly. “These initials are starting to line up. Some are the initials of judges, that link with the initials of clients and the timing of their trials. Some payments from your father line up with the initials of active Rebels club members. If I didn’t know a single thing about these people, I’d say your father is bribing judges for his clients, and the Rebels are somehow blackmailing him because they know.”
I fiddle with the strap on the knife sheath and drop my head. “Shit.”
I don’t mention my father’s affair. Not yet. Maybe it’s time I killed two birds with one stone and tell my mother, while I’m home, what I know. It’s going to come out one way or another, as my father’s deeds unravel.
But beneath the practicalities, a light goes out in the last sliver of my heart, that I guess held out hope that my father was not the man I thought he was.
My life will change. People will speculate whether I’m as corrupt as he is. They’ll wonder if the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. And my mother’s world will fall apart.
Yet, regardless of all that, what we’re doing is the right thing. I want it all exposed. I want justice for Zach and all the other people my father has screwed over.
