"I'm not wasting my time helping some outsider," Emilio says flatly. "We've already got enough problems with the Callahans."
"She knows things we don't," Rafe argues, standing behind me like a shadow. "About Maddy, about her accounts, about what she might have been involved in."
"And how do we know she won't take what we find straight to the cops?" Emilio challenges, his eyes narrowing as they fix on me. "Her father was NYPD, for Christ's sake."
I step forward, holding his gaze. "Because I want justice for Maddy more than anyone. And I know the cops won't give me that." I take a breath. "You will."
Emilio studies me, his face unreadable. "Pretty words. Not convincing."
"My father retired five years ago," I say, desperation creeping into my voice. "I haven't talked to him about any of this. I won't. This isn't about him. It's about Maddy."
"And if we find something that implicates your friend?" Emilio asks, leaning forward. "What then? You still want the truth if it means your perfect memory of her gets shattered?"
The question hits me like a physical blow. I hadn't let myself consider that possibility that Maddy might have been involved in something dark.
"I need to know," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Whatever it is. I've spent my whole life being blamed forsomething I didn't do. I can't let that happen to Maddy. Even if..." I swallow hard. "Even if the truth isn't what I want it to be."
Something shifts in Emilio's expression. Not quite trust, but curiosity.
"I was there when she died," I continue, the words spilling out. "I found her body. I've spent every day since trying to understand why. I won't stop until I know." My hands are shaking, but I clench them into fists. "I can't."
Rafe steps up beside me. "I trust her," he says simply.
Emilio's eyes flick to his brother, then back to me. "Your judgment's been questionable lately," he says to Rafe, but there's less resistance in his voice.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a small notebook. "These are all the accounts Maddy mentioned to me. Personal checking, savings account she opened in college, credit card she got when she started grad school." I place it on the desk in front of him. "I've been trying to gather information for months—statements I found in her apartment, things she told me about her finances. But I can't access the actual records. There's only so much I can do on my own."
Emilio picks up the notebook, flipping through the pages. His eyebrows raise slightly.
"You've been busy," he mutters.
"I'm not asking for charity," I say. "I think this connects to the Callahans somehow. If it does, that helps you too."
Emilio and Rafe exchange a look I can't quite interpret. Finally, Emilio sighs and turns to his laptop.
"One hour," he says, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "If I don't find anything by then, we drop it."
I nod, relief washing through me. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," he replies, already typing. "You might not like what I find."
I pull up a chair next to him, close enough to see the screen but careful not to crowd him. "I'd rather know the ugly truth than live with a beautiful lie."
His fingers pause for just a moment, and I catch the ghost of a smile on his face. "Maybe you're not as much of an outsider as I thought."
Rafe and I watch over Emilio's shoulders as he works, close enough to see but careful not to crowd him. He navigates through the financial data with practiced precision, and the blue glow of the screen casts an eerie light on our faces as we search for the truth that got Maddy killed.
"God, were her finances always this boring?" Emilio groans, rubbing his eyes. "No wonder you two got along."
"Hey!" I retort, although the hint of a smile tugs at my lips. It's strangely comforting to have Rafe's brother treat me like I'm not a complete outsider.
Finally, Emilio stops typing and sits back in his chair. His eyes dart over to Rafe before settling on me.
"Okay," he says slowly, "there's nothing unusual about Maddy's bank accounts... but there's something odd about her credit card."
Rafaele’s hand is heavy and warm on my shoulder. I think of Maddy, her eyes bright with secrets. The way she laughed when I studied late and begged me to come out instead. The way I refused, night after night, telling myself there would always be more time. But now she’s gone, and I can’t lose her all over again.
When it pops up on the screen, it’s like seeing her ghost. My heart clenches, my eyes blur. I blink to clear them, forcing myself to look. To really see.