“I don’t know,” Brendan says with a heavy breath. “I was trying to figure out how Julia even knew my mother. I couldn’t find anything connecting them … except a picture taken of a group of people in front of a house in Nantucket.”
I spin around with my mouth open. “You saw that picture before I showed it to you?”
“Yeah. It was in the box with the letter along with pictures of my mother with Kaden and a ton of her and your mother. All taken a year or two before we were born.”
I walk back over to stand next to his chair, my hands on my hips. “Keep going.”
He takes a sip of water and licks his lips. “There are three other families in the picture with my mother—the Thornes, the Harrisons, and your mother. I decided the only way to understand what happened was to ask the families. Which was harder than I’d expected, so I found another way. I figured if I got close to the Harrisons, maybe I could find something. I’ve known Kaden since I was young, but he didn’t come around much after Mom died. So …”
“Parker,” I finish.
“And Niall, sort of. I mean, I needed a lawyer to take care of everything, and he just conveniently appeared in my life. I’d always hooked Parker up with whatever, but I needed to take it to another level. I proposed the illegal club one night when he was drunk and high after I made us watch a ’90s movie about finding a rave in an abandoned warehouse. He thought it was genius. And having him as a partner gave me access to things I hadn’t had before, including clubs in New York.”
We stare at each other meaningfully, knowing he doesn’t need to expand upon the events of that night. Brendan closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose, like he’s trying not to relive it.
“As you know, I wrote the letter to your mother after my mother died, before New York. Not long after New York, Niall stepped in, suggesting I attend Blackwood the following school year. And since Ashton was there, it would allow me to protect her. So we came up with a story to get me admitted, something Blackwood couldn’t corroborate.”
“You didn’t have an affair with your principal’s wife?” I ask in astonishment, wondering if any of it was true.
“No. But I didn’t have anything tangible to qualify for admittance, so we took some liberties with the facts. It wasn’t difficult to get Mr. Unger to corroborate our story. I did sleep with his daughter.”
I scoff. “You’re far from innocent.”
“Of course I’m not innocent.” He rolls his eyes like the idea is absurd. “I introduced people. That’s not exactly an arrestable offense. I knew who had connections, and I’d set them up with someone else with connections. Then they’d set me up with … whatever because they were rich dicks with nothing better to do with their money. Eventually, it required researching who had access to what information, and sometimes, that led to firewalls that needed to be breached.”
“Oh, and that’s not illegal,” I shoot back sarcastically.
“Are you seriously comparing rap sheets right now? Because mine is clean. How long is yours, Lana?” Brendan rubs his temples like he’s in pain.
“Do you have a headache? Want me to get you something?” Grant asks.
I snap my head to gawk at him. “Don’t be so nice to him.”
Grant kisses my forehead and disappears. He returns a moment later with a bottle of pills. He shakes out a couple and offers some to me. I decline.
After swallowing them with the rest of his water, Brendan continues, “The summer after my mother died, Kaden flew me out to London, thought it would be best to get me off the island for a while. Parker visited for a few weeks, all excited about this club idea. He created a fricken three-year business plan. Found a silent investor. But he needed a tech guy. Someone who knew people or how to check into them. That was the secret to keeping the club a secret—uncover what others don’t want you to know to keep their mouths shut. I was good at it.
“When it became obvious that the adults in the picture weren’t going to provide me with any information, not directly anyway, I decided to use my sharpened skill set to look deeper into them. But the Thornes are untouchable. Trying to uncover anything about them, even with my talent, is impossible. I couldn’t even contact Julia. Since Kaden wasn’t in the picture I had, I didn’t realize I could’ve asked him. It would’ve saved me so much work. And as you know, Niall’s a vault. So I focused on the girl I kept finding remnants of in my mother’s things … your mother. I knew it wasn’t a coincidence that Niall sent me to Blackwood right after I wrote to her. She knew something.”
“Your mother hated my mother,” I say, interrupting him. Brendan looks confused. “Didn’t you know?”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, shifting in his chair.
I scan the room. “Where’s my backpack?”
Grant pulls it out from beside the couch. I unzip the bag, remove my mother’s box and take out the pictures with the threats and cruel words written on them to hand to Brendan.
“I’ve never seen these before.” Brendan sits up straight, shock flashing across his face as he inspects each image.
“You don’t know what happened?” I’m not convinced despite the abhorrence depicted on his face.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out, Lana! What the hell happened!” Brendan flings the pictures onto the table.
“Alright, take a breath, both of you,” Grant interjects, standing. He guides me away from Brendan and whispers in my ear, “Are you okay?”
I press my face to his shirt and inhale deeply. My heart’s racing, and my hands are shaking. I’m not okay, so I don’t answer. Grant wraps an arm around my waist, lowering us back onto the couch.
“How does Vic fit into all of this?” Grant asks Brendan, who has miraculously composed himself, shutting down every emotion—his face a slate of ambivalence.
“Vic … was right here. In the same town as the school Niall got me admitted to.” Brendan leans back in the chair, casually propping an ankle on his knee. “As soon as I heard his name, I looked him up to see if there was any relation to Julia or Damon Thorne. But I couldn’t get into any of his files other than to confirm Julia’s his mother. I asked for an introduction. But he didn’t know anything or wouldn’t reveal anything. That left you. And since our mothers were so close, I was convinced you could get the answers I couldn’t, if you didn’t already know them.” Brendan runs a hand through his hair.
“I accessed your records. School. Criminal. Health. Whatever. That’s when it became clear … you don’t talk. Hell, you wouldn’t even tell the police who killed your grandmother after …” Brendan pauses when Grant shifts forward. “But I needed you to talk. So I had to get you away from Sherling. Your mother. And your friends. Isolate you in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
He glances at me quickly. I’m not moving; my mind is unwilling to see where this is going. Grant is tense beside me, anticipating something that neither of us is going to like.
“Vic was a bit of a loner. He didn’t really fit in at Printz-Lee. Probably belongs at Blackwood, except I think he’s even too messed up for there. After his mother died earlier this year, he wasn’t … the same. He got into fights. Started taking all sorts of pills. Whatever shady shit he could get into. And started opening up more, letting things slip. Nothing really useful, just ranting about stupid shit. Except … he knew about you. And he hated you.”