Abram shakes his head.
“Another set of evidence that was suppressed was a pair of bloody shoe prints on the stairs,” he continues. “Pointed toes with no heel.”
“Stilettos,” I breathe. It is starting to come together. The puzzle pieces fit snugger and snugger as more of the picture reveals itself. There is only one woman I can think of with the means and motive to kill my mother.
Marianne.
My mother confided in her once, and then suddenly Elias found her again. I know the note my father says she left is utter bullshit. Even without seeing it, there is no way my mother would have left him. She loved him.
Looking back now, at all the times she discussed the love of her life, I know it is him. It was always him. But why did she run to Portland instead of back to him?
What made her flee? Or more precisely—who?
Marianne could easily drive the two hours to Portland to kill my mother, and no one would be the wiser. She has the motive, too. Years of living in my mother’s shadow. The mafia princess with her fairy-tale life and prince charming.
I glance at my father out of the corner of my eye.
Nope. He wouldn’t take that well. I need concrete proof before I drop that bombshell on him. He didn’t take it well the last time I brought my Marianne theory to him. Better to wait.
“What about the other cases you fudged?”
Abram sobs, still clutching his bleeding knee. “They’re on the table. Every case I’ve ever manipulated. I kept proof in case they went back on their word.”
“Did you meet with anyone other than Cartwright?” Sully questions.
“Jameson O’Neill,” he admits with disgust. “Owns Platinum Security.”
“Anyone else?”
Abram shakes his head. “No one I’d know by name. There was an older gentleman with a cane I ran into a few times meeting O’Neill or Cartwright, but he never introduced himself.”
Flipping through my phone, I find what I’m looking for. “Does he look like this?” I show him the screen.
Abram nods.
“That’s him.”
“Good.” I tuck the phone away. “Thank you for the information.” I aim my gun at him.
“Wait,” he pleads. “My family.”
My eyes soften. “I was never going to hurt them.”
“They will, though.”
“Then know I will protect them,” I promise. “But no one can protect you.”
The trigger gives way under my finger.
Abram is dead, and I am one step closer to avenging not only Matthias—but my mother as well.
twelve
“She was flirting with you,” I scrunch my nose in disgust as the woman in question walks away. Tall, blonde, and stacked. It was definitely his type before he married me. Even if they were mostly Vivian’s paid whores. My husband is sex on wheels. The flesh version of Adonis, all muscle and sinew. He is a machine. Powerfully built.
Women are going to stare.
Few of them have the nerve to directly approach him. This one had the gall to proposition him while I was sitting at the table. It took everything in me not to skewer her with my Christian Louboutins. Matthias clearly saw my irritation. He winked at me and turned on the charm. Fuck, I was waiting for the woman to hand over her panties.