Sins of the Father (15 page)

“We wanted to talk to you about a story you’re working on.” Frank shifted his feet. I knew this couldn’t be easy for him, going to someone else for help. Frank never accepted help from anyone in his life, besides me, but I was family.

“Which one? You’re going to have to be more specific.” The shoddy rolling chair Steven was sitting in creaked as he folded his arms back behind his head and stared up as us.

“The one about arsenic poisoning,” I supplied.

“Oh.” His arms dropped as he scooted forward, landing with a thud on his desktop. Without looking at us, he scooped up his pen and went back to whatever he was working on when we arrived. “That one.”

“Yeah.” Frank folded his arms and I could feel the tension radiating from him. “That one. My sister’s sick.”

Steven kept on writing, but I was getting the sense that it had nothing to do with what Frank was telling him. “I see.”

A minute stretched into two as we stood there, waiting for him to say something else. He didn’t.

The end of Frank’s patience was punctuated by a grunt. He took a step toward the desk, but I grabbed hold of him before he could make a scene in the middle of a news room. “Don’t you want to know more? Aren’t you writing a story? Haven’t you investigated other cases like this? People getting sick . . .
dying
? What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing.” Steven shoved back. This time when his eyes came to us, he was glaring. “I’m not doing a damn thing about it. And I’m not writing a story. Not anymore.”

“Why the hell not?” A loud clap echoed through the room as Frank’s hands slammed down on
the desktop, sending several papers fluttering to the floor.

Steven scanned the others as several heads turned in our direction. “Meet me at the Main Street Dinner in twenty minutes.”

He bent to collect his papers and I took that as our cue to go.

We sat at the dinner for almost half-an-hour before Steven finally showed. Five more minutes and I wouldn’t have been able to keep Frank from storming right back into his office. He waved to the waitress behind the counter as he made his way to our table and called out his order of a black coffee. I swung around to Frank’s side of the booth, leaving an open bench for Steven. It felt right, facing him side-by-side. It was us against him. Us against the world. It always had been.

We all sat quietly as the waitress with the silver, coiffed hair and a friendly smile delivered Steven’s mug and topped off ours. “How you boys doin’ this mornin’?”

“Fine, Milly.” Steven lifted his cup and tipped his head in thanks. “How ’bout yourself?”

“Oh, these old bones are doin’ about as well as can be expected. You let me know if there’s anything else I can get for ya.” She toddled away and Steven took a sip of coffee, watching us over the rim of his mug.

He set it down on a sigh. “Alright. You want to know about the story?” It was a rhetorical question. One he didn’t wait for an answer to. “It was supposed to be my big break. My earth-shaking expose on big business. Paragon Gen poisoning the local population. It was supposed to get me out of this Podunk town and into the big city. A
real
job at a
real
publication.”

I didn’t understand. Such a controversial story should have been splashed all over the headlines. Obviously Frank didn’t get it either.

Steven frowned and leaned into the table. “You need to understand small town politics. That company employs more than three-quarters of our residents. If they were to get shut down . . . The hike in taxes alone would bankrupt everyone. The Little Falls Gazette included.”

Frank’s knuckles turned white around his mug. I worried for the ceramic, but felt his frustration.
They were going to let some company get away with
murder
to protect their bottom line?

“What kind of bullshit news outlet do you work for?” Coffee sloshed over the side of Frank’s mug as he slammed it down. “It’s your responsibility to—”

“I agree with you.” Steven set his mug down more calmly and folded his hands. “I absolutely agree with you. But what can I do? My hands are tied. My sources have all dried up and I’ve been warned against pursuing this any further. I can’t risk my job. I’ve got a wife and a kid on the way.”

Dammit. I didn’t want to feel for this guy, but I couldn’t help it. He was just as screwed by this turn of events as we were. Steven Marsh wasn’t the enemy.

“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” Frank’s jaw turned rock hard, an indication that he was either about to put his fist through something, or fighting back tears. I thought I knew which one it was this time. “My sister doesn’t have insurance. The hospital’s letting her go. She needs help.”

“Here.” Steven threw open the satchel he came in wearing and pulled out a thick manila envelope. “It’s everything I’ve collected on Paragon Gen. Medical reports, statements, facts about arsenic poisoning. I believe the contamination is coming from some of the semi-conductor computer chips they use in their manufacturing. The gallium arsenic has somehow found its way into the ground water supply. Stick to bottled water around here. It isn’t much. Not more than a hunch with some corresponding facts, but nothing to link them. No proof. There are phone numbers in there, though. Numbers for the Paragon headquarters. If you call, make a big enough stink, it may be worth it to them to help pay your sister’s medical bills just to shut you up. It’s worth a shot.”

Steven pushed the file across the table to Frank. He drained the rest of his cup and we watched in silence as he slid from the booth and walked away. The bell on the door sounded louder than it should have. Another dead end.

Frank flipped open the file and sorted through a mountain of papers. It looked like we had some serious work to do.

“
Goddammit!
” Frank whipped his phone across the room and I watched as tiny bits of plastic scattered across the floor.

“No luck?” He’d been trying endlessly for three straight days to find a lawyer who would take on Sylvie’s case pro-bono. The officials at Paragon Gen refused to speak with him directly. Their assistants and secretaries kept referring him to their legal department, who would only confer with his lawyer. A lawyer we couldn’t afford to pay for.

“Not one of those goddamn blood-sucking leeches is willing to take on a major corporation without a big payday in it for them.”

They knew as well as we did that the odds of winning against the team of world-class attorneys on the Paragon payroll was near zilch.

“What the hell are we supposed to—?”

“Frank?” Sylvie’s voice was low and strained. She tried to hide it, put on a pretty good show, but she was hurting.

“Shit.” Her brother nudged open the door leading to her small bedroom. After the hospital discharged her, we brought her back to her apartment. She hadn’t left her bed since. “I’m sorry, Syl. Did I wake you?”

“No, it’s alright.” She started gagging and Frank grabbed the bucket we kept on her nightstand.

I rushed over to pull her hair back as she vomited. Again. When she’d finished, Frank passed her a washcloth and a cup of water, and disappeared into the bathroom to deal with the bucket while she cleaned up.

”I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “No apologies, Syl.”

“Is everything okay? I heard yelling.”

I wanted to take her hand. Hold her. Shield her. She hated yelling. She’d always hated yelling and with good reason. But that was Frank’s job, now.

He returned the bucket and perched on the edge of her mattress, cupping her small hand between both of his. “No, I wasn’t yelling, just talking loud. Everything’s alright. Don’t you
worry about anything.” He smoothed some damp hairs from her sweaty forehead as I excused myself from the room. “I’ll take care of it—of
you
—I promise.”

“I know you will.” She smiled up at him, sleepily. “You always have.”

“That’s right.” He bent to place a kiss on her cheek. “And I always will. That’s what big brothers are for.”

Her eyes began to droop. Frank sat quietly, holding her hand until she was out again. Then he left the room, shut the door, swiped my phone from the end table and started dialing all over again.

*Present day*

I’d had the air punched from my lungs more times than I cared to remember, but nothing left me as breathless as Fi did when she looked at me that way.

“I’m here now.” But she was right. I hadn’t been there when it counted, so what the hell did it matter?

A steadying breath brought with it the sweet scent of coconut shampoo. The towel lay discarded by our feet, her bare back on display framed by the gaudy golden mirror on the wall. This side of her looked just as damaged as the front. Bruises in shades of purple, blue, and black looked garish against her fair complexion. A long scratch ran parallel to her spine, which protruded from her skin like a tiny mountain range. I knew she was short, but I hadn’t realized how
small
she was—how vulnerable—until I had her in my arms, overcome by the desire to surround her like a goddamn shield and feeling as though it might actually be possible.

“I know he’s your friend and you care about him, but . . .” Her hands fisted and she pressed her face to my chest, muffling her quiet words. “There’s something wrong with him, Sawyer. There’s . . . There’s a monster inside of him.”

I could barely recall the fight I had with Frank. Neither of us had been present. It was a bloody battle between the beasts that lived inside each of us. The monsters our fathers were. The monsters they tried to cultivate in their image. The ones we kept caged most of the time.

Christ, the minute I’d set foot in that stall I’d lost sight of everything but her. Cowering on the dirty floor, cast in Frank’s shadow . . . The fear in her eyes scarred me, but it was the blatant pain that threw me over the edge. Erased any thought but the gut deep
need
to defend.

Seeing the kind of destruction those monsters were capable of outlined on Fi’s body—the kind of destruction
I
was capable of—made my stomach knot in ways that made me regret the gas station sandwich I’d eaten for dinner.

“There are monsters inside all of us, Sparrow. But you don’t have to fear them.”

She moaned, her head rocking side-to-side against my chest. “How can you say that?”

“Because . . .” She fought me as I attempted to lift her face, but eventually gave in and her watery eyes met mine. “I will slay monsters for you.”

I would. I would have done anything in the world to make this up to her.

Her slight weight leaned into me. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she wore nothing more than a pair of panties, but my gaze remained locked on her face. Her eyes were this incredible shade of blue, almost aquamarine. How had I never noticed that before? She leaned closer still and it felt as though I could dive into those eyes. Drown in them. And that would be alright.

Water dripped from her hair, streaking down my chest. My skin felt so overheated that I was surprised it didn’t evaporate on contact.

“Ophelia,” I whispered her name not really sure what it was I was asking for. I already held her in my arms, but the desire to have her even closer was more than I could resist.

She pressed up on her toes, bringing her face closer to mine and I stopped breathing. Plump, pale lips lifted and I was certain she’d reached inside my chest and seized my heart.