One of Us Is Dead(72)

“Okay.” She glanced around the room again and hesitated for a moment.

“Listen. I don’t have a lot of time. What’s this about?” My patience had worn thin.

Crystal pulled out a MacBook from her tote bag and placed it on her lap. She held the sides of it tightly, glancing at it and then looking back at me.

“Did you know?” She squinted her eyes as if she were trying to read text that was too small—but really, she was trying to read me.

“Know what?” I uncrossed my legs, leaned in, and repositioned myself as if on the edge of my seat.

She opened the laptop, clicked around with the trackpad, and then set it on the coffee table, turning it toward me.

“I’m sorry. This is going to be really hard for you, but you need to know.” Crystal clicked Play and a video began.

“Shit. We’ve lost another one,” Dean said as he walked on-screen carrying a dead woman.



When the video stopped, Crystal closed the laptop and put it back in her bag. My eyes were wide. My mouth was open.

“Was that Bryce’s voice?” I asked. I knew it was but wanted to confirm.

She nodded and hung her head in shame.

I looked surprised, and I was . . . but only by the fact that it was Bryce that Dean was working for. I had always known that Dean’s money wasn’t clean, though I’ve been careful over the years not to ask too many questions. As long as the money kept coming in, it made sense to look the other way.

“Where did you get that video?”

“Off of Bryce’s computer. I found it today.” Her lip quivered. Her eyes moistened.

I leaned back in my seat, crossed one leg over the other, and took a sip of wine. That slimy bastard. I should have known. Of course it was Bryce. It was why Dean had pushed me to get along with the wives, to make nice with Crystal, to keep things peaceful. Bryce and Dean needed us to keep up appearances, to look like upstanding citizens of the Buckhead community. They needed us to look the part, while they were off trafficking drugs, guns, and girls.

“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.

She glanced around the room helplessly, like a small child that just found out Santa wasn’t real. “I don’t know. Go to the police?” Crystal looked to me for approval, for solidarity, for help.

“You’re going to turn your husband in?” I raised an eyebrow.

“I have to. The man on that video is not the man I married. How could he do that . . . to those poor girls? He’s a monster.” Her voice cracked at the end as she fought back tears.

I swiveled my wineglass, allowing the liquid to coat the sides of it, and took another sip.

“Have you talked to him? Given him a chance to explain?” I bounced my foot.

“He can’t explain that away. Did you not watch the video?” She pointed at the laptop that was now stowed in her bag. Her eyes were wild.

“We should really think about this.”

“He threatened your life, Olivia. I came here to warn you.”

“I’m a big girl, Crystal. I can take care of myself.”

Her mouth fell open. Was it really so shocking that I would choose to stand by my husband? He brought home the money. His work provided for us, and that’s what mattered. I had even told him I wanted to be an active part of it. Honestly, I felt I could do it better than him. Trafficking needed a woman’s touch.

“We need to go to the police,” she urged.

I looked around the room, contemplating, and then back at her. “You should send me the video,” I said.

“Okay.” She pulled out her laptop and typed away at it. “There. Sent. So, you’re going to go to the police then?” Crystal stowed the computer back in her bag.

I finished my wine and set the empty glass on the table. Standing from my seat, I crossed my arms over my chest and raised my chin.

“I think you need to leave. I don’t appreciate you speaking ill of my husband.”

“Olivia, how can you be okay with this? This is wrong! So wrong!” She stood from the couch. Her voice came out all whiny.

“It’s business. And I wouldn’t be so quick to turn your back on your husband. You saw what he did with those women. You wouldn’t want to end up in that pile too,” I taunted.

“How can you do this?” Crystal asked as she quickly gathered her bag.

“We’re living the American dream.”

“Breaking the law isn’t living the American dream, Olivia,” she hissed.

“America was built on the backs of others. We’re just carrying on the tradition.” I chuckled as I walked her to the front door.

Crystal turned toward me as she exited my home. “Olivia, please.”

“I can’t help you,” I said, closing the door in her face.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed. A woman answered.

“Hi, is Bryce in?” I asked.

“Yes, may I ask who’s calling?”

“Olivia Petrov. Tell Bryce I’ll be stopping in.” I ended the call and smiled a big toothy grin.





64

Crystal


After the door slammed in my face, I stood there for a moment, deciding what to do. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe Olivia would stand by her husband after what he’d done. There was something truly wrong with her. I wiped away my tears and took a step back. A voice from behind startled me.