Part 5
The dining room became quiet again.
Arthur covered his face.
His shoulders shook.
Vincent stared at Molly.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
The single word came out harder than she intended.
She looked away.
“He died three years ago.”
Vincent did not ask how.
For that, she was grateful.
Finally, he turned to Grant.
“Find the boy.”
Arthur looked up in disbelief.
Vincent pointed at him.
“You give Grant everything. Every call. Every message. Every location. If your son is alive, we bring him home.”
Arthur began crying.
Not politely.
Not quietly.
The broken, gasping sobs of a father who had been expecting punishment and had just been offered hope.
Molly swallowed.
Vincent looked back at her.
“Now will you come with me?”
She glanced down at her burning wrist.
“I suppose refusing would ruin the dramatic moment.”
“It would inconvenience me.”
“That sounds worse.”
“Much worse.”
Twenty minutes later, Molly sat in the back of a black armored sedan while Chicago blurred past the rain-streaked windows.
Vincent sat opposite her.
Grant rode in front, speaking quietly into his phone.
Molly cradled her injured wrist.
The burning had eased beneath a wet dressing, but she knew that meant very little.
Vincent watched her.
“You are staring,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Most people pretend not to.”
“I rarely pretend.”
“That must make dinner parties exhausting.”
“You ruined mine.”
“You were being poisoned.”
“You still ruined it.”
Molly looked at him.
Then she laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Vincent’s mouth moved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
The car turned toward the river.
After a moment, Vincent asked, “What happened to your brother?”
Molly’s laughter died.
She stared at the city lights.
“Evan worked maintenance at a pharmaceutical research facility outside Milwaukee.”
Vincent waited.
May you like
“He found disposal records that didn’t match what was actually leaving the labs. Materials were being moved somewhere they weren’t supposed to go.”
“What kind of materials?”
