Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(58)

Elliot’s face fell just a smidgen. “What?”

“Yeah. You literally broke your only son’s spirit. And do you care? Forget he’s your son—can you conjure up one morsel of compassion for your fellow man?”

“Of course I can,” he said. “But your brother came to my home during a party, all but ranting and raving and causing a scene. I had to have him escorted out.”

“He came to your precious party because you wouldn’t take his calls or see him at your office, Elliot. He was fighting for his child. And when you knew the whole story, when you found out about the baby, you still could have sent the money. But you just didn’t care. That’s why I’m here. Because you couldn’t be a compassionate, unselfish asshole for one damn minute toward your own child. I’m here to clean up your fucking mess, you bastard. And if you don’t get your little puppet into office because I spoke the truth, then really that’s on you. Your actions have consequences, Elliot. Especially the shitty ones. But I’m walking, talking, berating proof of that, no?” I smirked. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Father dear, I have the strongest urge to go back in there and speak to each and every person and reporter in that room about how wonderful Sheriff Hancock is, because he was more of a father to me than you probably ever were even to Merrill. Your straw man’s getting blown away by the Big Bad Wolf. Karma can be a bitch, no? And I’m more than happy to do her work.”



I winked at my seething father before sidestepping him and walking away without a glance back. I couldn’t contain my smile even if I’d wanted to. My father had cornered me, attempted to bully me into leaving, and in the end he barely got to throw a punch. The man had balls to even try, but mine were bigger. He should have learned that when I was sixteen and walked out of his house with hundreds of thousands of dollars. And here I’d always thought I’d gotten my intelligence from him. Must have been a fortunate mutation. And like the X-Men comics Billy liked to read, I intended to use my power for good.

I gave an interview with the local paper about Sheriff Hancock, gushing over him like mad and even outright saying someone should look into my allegations. I intended to write an email to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette anonymously suggesting they investigate as well when I got back to my grandparents’ house. I also shook hands with all fifty-odd guests and signed as many autographs. Almost all the women, and quite a few of the men, asked about my “boyfriend,” and I managed to answer sweetly that Luke and I were just friends. Not a one hid their disappointment that he wasn’t in town. How I managed to keep my smile on when two women gave me their phone numbers to pass on to him, I do not know. If Luke ever came to town, I worried he’d need bodyguards to keep the women off him as if he were Harry Styles or something. Or I’d just rip them to shreds myself.



My father and his entourage fought valiantly to mitigate the damage I was doing to their candidate. When I’d move on to the next cluster, they’d swoop in on the people I left and perform their song and dance. We’d have to wait to see who they believed when the checks and votes began rolling in. I stayed past my allotted hour until everyone in that room was charmed. It was actually Hancock who suggested it was time to leave. As always, he was right. I was fading fast. Ever the good guy, he offered to walk me to my car. “You certainly were the belle of the ball,” Hancock said as we walked out of the club.

“I prefer ‘Prodigal Daughter’ or ‘Champion of Grey Mills.’?”

“After tonight I’ll call you whatever you want,” Hancock chuckled. “You were amazing.”

“Always,” I said with a smirk.

“Really. Thank you, Nancy Drew. You’re…”

I touched his arm. “Hey, don’t get all sentimental on me. I just try to pay my debts and I still owe you like a million, sir. You ever need me again, I’m there.”

“I know.”

We said our goodbyes, and I pulled out of the parking lot with a smile. For some reason as I drove away from that den of elitism, my thoughts turned to all the people at The Temple and their stories. Even without talking to every member, I knew there wasn’t a person there without parental issues. Unstable mothers, absent fathers, neglect, emotional and physical abuse. As I contemplated that fact, I realized how lucky I’d been to have my grandparents. Sheriff Hancock. Even Joyce. Their acceptance and support helped fill that father-shaped hole inside me. Each in their own way bolstered me when they had no true reason to. They barely got anything out of it, but they still did it. Maybe it really did take a village to raise a child. And unfortunately, the village my brother and all those other lost souls currently inhabited was run by a vampire slowly sucking out whatever strength and soul they still possessed. Well, not on my watch. I was raised to be strong, to help even if I got precious little out of the exchange. I had to honor all the faith those amazing people in my life placed in me. It would be inhuman to do otherwise.



And no one was ever going to call me my father’s daughter.

—

Thanks to the coffee I’d practically mainlined before and during the cocktail party, I was too wired to sleep when I got home. Thankfully I had some heavy reading to lull me to sleep. The files Hancock gave me contained stories of lives ruined before they ever got a chance to begin. So much wasted potential. So much misery. There were often days on the job when I grew ashamed to be a member of the human race. The damage we do to ourselves and others for so little was mind boggling. Of course, this came from someone who’d recently spent two years at the bottom of various bottles after she flat-out executed a man.