What Have We Done (50)

He gives Jenna a pointed look. She’d been one of those girls. What happened to the others?

Sabine claimed that she had no hand in their disappearance, that Jenna was the only Corporation recruit from Savior House. But who could be sure with Sabine?

“Why now? After all these years?”

Artemis shrugs. “Politicians tend to be psychopaths.”

“I can’t believe Derek Brood’s in Congress. What a disgrace.…”

Artemis chuckles. “Have you seen Congress lately? There’s more sociopaths and carnival barkers than legislators.”

Despite living in D.C., Jenna has buried her head in the sand when it comes to politics.

“As I see it, we have two choices here,” Artemis tells her.

Jenna nods for him to continue.

“We see if there’s an amount he’d take in compensatory and punitive damages to back down.…”

“Or?” Jenna knows where this is going.

“Or I give that same money to someone like you who knows how to deal with these types of problems.”

This confirms he knows about her time with The Corporation. It’s unsettling. But he’s a billionaire and likely has unparalleled access to intel—an entire squad of former spooks and other shadowy special operators on his payroll. It’s unclear why he doesn’t use his own people for such work. But maybe he can’t—can’t tell them the reason for the hit. Or he wants to ensure it’s not traceable to him.

He leans back in the leather seat of the sedan, waits for her response.

“If this is about Derek taking revenge, money won’t matter to him.”

“Maybe,” Artemis says, like a man who knows that money often can shift the paradigm, overcome morals, emotion, sentimentality, even family ties. Particularly with the politicians who probably regularly approach Artemis with their hands out.

He glances at the folder. “It should have what you need.”

Jenna doesn’t look at the dossier. She’ll study it later. She reaches for the door handle.

“There’s something else,” Artemis says.

Jenna sits back, waits for him to continue.

“We need to be concerned about the FBI. My contacts tell me that Brood—the father, not Derek

—has come to the Bureau’s attention.”

Jenna swallows down a dry throat. “That doesn’t make any sense. If Derek Brood wants us dead,

why would he go to the Feds about what happened to his father? He’d be the obvious suspect if we’re all killed.”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Artemis releases a breath. “But maybe it’s not Derek Brood talking to the Feds.”

“Then who?”

“Only five people were there that night.”

“Yeah, and one’s dead, and the rest of us are targets. And we all have something to lose.”

Artemis holds her gaze without blinking. He still brings to mind a robot—that’s what Derek and his crew called him, wasn’t it?

“I’m not suggesting it’s any of us. But maybe someone has been talking.…”

“Not me.”

“Of course, not you.”

He could be right about the others. She hasn’t kept up with them, but it’s possible one of them told someone—a girlfriend, a priest, an AA sponsor, someone.

“We need to talk to Donnie and Nico,” he says. “Find out if they slipped.”

“We,” Jenna says.

Artemis’s face remains expressionless. “I don’t think we want me running around playing detective. It will only draw attention.”

He’s right, of course.

“What about your security team?”

“I’d have to tell them things we wouldn’t want me to. Besides, Donnie and Nico adored you.

They’ll trust you.”

“I saw Donnie at the funeral.”

“He was hard to miss,” Artemis says. “He’s staying at the Four Seasons. He has a friend with him. My guys put a tracker on his rental car this morning.” He hands her a smartphone. She glances at the screen and it shows a map with a blue dot.

“You have one of those for Nico too?”

“No. But he’s here too, staying at the Ritz.”

Jenna nods. Just as she thought, both of her foster home siblings came. For Ben.

“Look,” Artemis says. “I think Derek Brood is behind this. If we can convince him to back off, we can make this problem go away.”

Jenna thinks about this. “If he won’t take the money and I have to take care of things, you can donate that money to charity.”

Artemis cocks his head to the side, not computing.

“He threatened my family. This one’s on the house.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

DONNIE

Reeves handles the driving on I-95 South. Donnie hasn’t told him why they’re going to Chestertown.

He’s not sure himself. But Ben’s law clerk’s words continue to echo through his head: He said to tell you that you all had it wrong. The proof is with Boo Radley. The problem: Donnie doesn’t have a damn clue what that means. He has huge gaps in his memory—most caused by whiskey, vodka, tequila, and white powder, not necessarily in that order. For the life of him, nothing’s ringing a bell.