Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Seraphina glanced away, expression somber. “The fixer that was hired sent two greedy users with no self-control.” Seraphina’s brow dipped as though she regretted what she’d said. “I know you know about that better than anyone.”
Yes, she did. But Cami couldn’t succumb to emotion. Otherwise, she’d collapse under the weight of it, especially now, when she had so little control. “The fixer . . . who was it?”
Seraphina did meet her eyes then, but only for an instant before they bounced away. “My mother was hired to play at all the ritziest events and hobnob with the DC elites. She used to laugh about it back then. She’d talk about how hoity-toity they were. How pompous. But I could tell she worshipped them. Wanted to be them.” She blew out a breath. “Not a single one inquired after her later, by the way. No one called or sent so much as a fruit basket. Maybe they hadn’t heard. Or maybe she served no purpose anymore. I wonder if it would have changed anything. One gesture, and so much might have been different.”
The limo slowed, and a car pulled up next to it, music blasting. The driver glanced at the limo, squinted, and then looked away before peeling off.
Cami couldn’t have mustered a full-throated scream even if it would have been heard through the thick glass of the limo and over the competing bass, so she didn’t waste her breath. Seraphina clasped her hands in front of her. “Anyway, my mother had met a man at several of the events she played. They’d flirted, she’d heard the whispers about what line of work he was in. His family, it’d quickly become clear, was who you went to when you had a problem to solve.”
A problem to solve. Seraphina’s words hit her like a series of blows. Her mother, her sister, they’d died because in some sick, vague sense, they’d been considered “problems.” The mere idea hurt so much she had to breathe through the agony. “Who? Tell me their name,” she managed.
Seraphina’s mother was dead. There would be no justice there. But if Cami got out of this alive, she’d go after the family who had sent the men who’d raped and murdered her mother and sister. And the “fixer” could pay.
It was something to hold on to. Hope in the midst of fear. A plan, however unlikely. A future that still existed beyond this locked limo and the zip ties keeping her bound.
“I don’t think I will tell you that. It wouldn’t help you to know anyway. They’re highly insulated and well protected. My mother used every last penny we had to hire them, and when they fouled up the job, they stopped taking her calls.”
It took Cami several moments to drag herself back from the brink of utter despair before she could speak again. “You said you’re bringing me to Hollis. He must know what you’re telling me now.” Had Hollis kept this horrific truth from her too? She’d known he felt disdain and annoyance for her, but she truly hadn’t thought he hated her.
“He knows my family experienced a break-in that injured my mother’s hand and ended her career, but not more than that. He doesn’t know my link to you.”
“How—”
“Save your breath. I know the answers you want. Hollis? I sought him out. After my mother died, I watched the Dateline special on your family. It was the first time I truly understood what happened to you. I watched . . . well, I watched everything I could, and there was a lot. There is a lot. Articles and shows and updates. Specials.”
Yes, I know. Cami was aware of how much material was out there, and she hated that her agony and trauma were so well documented. She tried not to think about it.
“I saw Hollis in the original investigative pieces, of course, but then I watched him on a follow-up story from five years ago. The way he spoke, about the charity that he’d started in the wake of what happened to you, moved me. He talked about how he put his whole heart and soul into his philanthropy and that that particular fund was his passion project. His eyes welled up, he . . . well, it was a crock of shit. He funnels the money earned by that charity to fund his own campaign. But at the time, it was my opportunity to . . . I don’t even know. Get close.”
Get close? What did that mean? Get close to the crime her mother had facilitated? Why? To finish what she’d started?
It surprised Cami that Seraphina had spoken disparagingly of Hollis. To her it’d seemed like she looked at her fiancé with great esteem. Or maybe she understood his nature but was unbothered by his dishonesty. “You volunteered to work at the charity?” she guessed.