Chapter 236

“I’ve been made aware of his underhanded dealings,” Martin interrupts. “As much as it pains me to say, there’s solid evidence indicating Greg is a dirty cop.”

I wait for either one of them to continue. I’d rather get permission to speak than constantly be interrupted and overridden by Martin’s ego. When Jackson gestures for me to contribute, I nod my agreement. “I can’t call myself blameless, sir. I wasn’t complicit, either, but I can’t help feeling I should have reported him sooner.”

Jackson shrugs a shoulder. “You’re his daughter. You want to protect him. I understand.”

No, clearly, you don’t. I bite back what I want to say and instead offer up a sheepish little smile. “Thank you. I… I only want to do what’s right.”

“You two have evidence?”

Martin nods and reaches into his jacket pocket for a folder. “I’ve got police logs here⁠—”

I quietly pull out my phone, find the recording file, and set it on the commissioner’s desk.

“Shit. I didn’t think it would ever get out.”

Jackson stills. So does Martin.

The only sound in the office is Dad’s voice spilling every sordid detail of the cover-up he did that sent an innocent man to prison.

“… I found that wolf shit growing in his windowsill. After the autopsy, I mean…”

“… The minute I saw that report, I knew the spotlight would turn on me. It didn’t matter if I killed him or not, Internal Affairs would start combing through my shit and my personal life…”

“… It was like the universe just wanted me to get away without breaking a sweat…”

By the time the recording is finished playing, both men are beyond pissed. Martin’s red in the face, while Jackson hides his glare behind a balled fist pressed to his mouth.

“That’s all I have as far as a confession.” I take my phone back and check to make sure the recording is still there. After all that’s happened, I can never be too sure about the little things.

Jackson nods. “Send it to me.”

I do as he says. A moment later, the damning evidence pings in his inbox and pulls up on his laptop screen.

He continues to glare into nothingness. Then, after a deep breath, he leans back and presses a button on his desk phone. “Caroline? Reschedule my meetings for today. And get me Kowalski, Brenner, Shanti, and Smith. Tell them it’s urgent.”

I swallow hard and glance over at Martin. He’s still livid, still that shade of tomato red, but he looks at me and reaches over to squeeze my hand.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

When the four Internal Affairs detectives arrive, we’re separated into different interrogation rooms and questioned for hours. Shanti and Brenner are the two who sit down with me to take my testimony. They’re also the two who make sure to send someone out to check on Princess after it’s been a while longer than I initially planned.

I expected this to be a process of questions and answers, circling through the same trains of thought over and over again until they fully understand what’s going on. It’s unbelievable that their top detective would be so incredibly dirty, but I have the evidence and names of witnesses to verify everything. I expected to give them that much.

What I didn’t expect was for the floodgates to open. For me to tell them everything, and I mean everything, about the hell my father subjected me to since infancy.

I tell them about my mother. About the yelling and shouting and screams I’d hear when all I wanted to do was hug my teddy bear and go to sleep. About the beatings that started when he figured I was old enough to understand the difference between an accident and intentional. About how he’d backhanded me into submission so I’d say what he wanted me to say and ultimately used me as a pawn to put an innocent man into prison.

I tell them about my suspicions about what happened to my mom. How no one will ever be able to prove that he killed her, but I just know. I’ve always known and could never face the possibility head on until now.

“What’s changed?” Shanti gently asks. “Why now?”

What a loaded question.

I blow out a long, heavy sigh and slump in my chair. How do I tell the truth? That a powerful casino owner who is also basically the king of Vegas’ dark underworld taught me how to stand up for myself?

That an organized crime lord showed me what real love is supposed to be like?

That a big, bad Bratva boss demonstrated how real fathers treat their daughters by being for Willow what neither Martin nor Greg could ever be for either of us?

“I’ve found more friends who understand what I’ve been going through” is the answer I settle on. “I have a stronger support system. I don’t know. I guess… the timing is best now. I’m no longer afraid.”

She gives me a reassuring, if not sympathetic, smile. “That makes sense. We see this happen a lot with abuse victims. It’s just really disheartening when the perpetrator is one of our own.”

“Yeah.” I scratch at a bubble on the vinyl tabletop with my thumbnail.

“Well, that should be all we need for now. We really appreciate your time—and please know that we do understand how difficult this must be for you.”

“Absolutely,” Brenner agrees. He has kind eyes and a warm smile. “If you ever need anything, do not hesitate to reach out to either one of us.”

I nod and push my chair out, needing to be done and just… fresh air. I need fresh air.

Martin meets me in the hallway. He looks as worn as I feel, but the fact that no one is escorting him away in cuffs means he probably managed to gloss over his own involvement in my father’s dealings.

“Everything go well?” he asks me.

I dodge his attempt to give me a side-hug and nod. “Yeah. I just need to use the restroom before we go.”

“Alright. Meet me downstairs, okay?”

“Okay.”

I wait for him to shuffle off to the stairs, then duck into the nearest restroom. I do, in fact, need to pee after hours in the interrogation room.

But I also need a moment to gather my thoughts, my wits, and jot down a quick message.

I pull out the sticky note and pen I lifted from the detectives’ things and suck in a deep breath.

This has to be done. Now or never.

Martin Patterson tampered with evidence to get Tolya Zakrevsky out of prison.

I stare at the words.

Then flip it over and add, He’s also been assaulting and beating me for years. Please help.

I throw the pen into the trash, then fold up the note as small as I can make it go.

My heart pounds against my ribcage as I leave the restroom. Martin is nowhere to be seen; he must be downstairs as promised and waiting for me to join him. I don’t have much time.

Shanti emerges from the interrogation room and smiles when she sees me. I beeline directly for her, which makes her brow furrow with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Fine! Great!” I beam at her and hold out my hand. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me through this. It really means a lot.”

She shakes my hand. As she does, I press the note from between my fingers into her palm.

When her eyes widen, I know she knows what I’m trying to do.

“Of course, Miss Everett. Please let me know if there’s ever anything else.”

And with that, we go our separate ways. Detective Shanti slips away to read the note, and I take the stairs down to meet Martin and plan our next steps.