Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Well, I have been... called an old goat,” Dad croaked.
They both laughed. Though my father’s was more a rattling wheeze. I narrowed on the both of them.
“What the fuck is going on in here?”
Ivy shot me a knowing smile. “Relax, Cairo. You can stop looking at me like I’m going to go crazed killer at any second. Your father and I were waiting for you guys for quite a while. We had a long talk,” she said. “I understand what happened all those years ago much better now.”
“Care to share?” Arsenio spoke up. “We could use a little understanding right now.”
“Okay, but is it a good idea for us all to be here? I drove by the police station, and I could tell something had gone wrong. I’m guessing you didn’t get bail.”
Arsenio just shook his head.
“Then, won’t your houses be the first places they’ll look for you? We should get out of here and go somewhere safe.”
“Yes, we should,” I ground out. “So talk fast.”
She gestured with her chin. “It’s better if you hear it from him.” Ivy made to leave. “I’ve got Quinn in the other room. I should check to make sure she hasn’t succumbed to her injuries—”
I grasped her wrist and tugged her back where she was. “Stay.”
Arsenio, Jacques, Legend, and Roan piled in. I didn’t know what they did with Davidson, but I was sure they had him locked up and secure somewhere uncomfortable. Dad had our full attention.
“I’m not sure where to begin.” Dad tried to sit up and quickly changed his mind. Sighing, he just eased back onto the pillows, gazing at the ceiling through black, swollen eyes. After a time, he began in slow, halting speech. “All I’ve ever tried to do is be a good man and father. It’s been a source of unending pain and shame for me that I’m neither.”
I didn’t correct him. Why do that when someone speaks the truth?
“Why do you think I d-drink?” Dad burst into a coughing fit.
Ivy helped him sip some water. The act so disturbed me, I pulled her away from him—taking her place by his side. These two would stop confusing the fuck out of me until I heard this story.
“I started out wanting to do what was best for the town, but along the way, I ended up doing what I was told was best for the town. For a long time, that was okay. It was enough... until I was asked to do something I couldn’t justify in my deepest drunken stupor.”
I frowned. “What were you asked to do?”
Dad lowered his gaze. It wasn’t my eyes he met. It was Ivy’s.
“You boys think you know all the secrets of this town, but you don’t. There’s one left. The biggest one. The oldest one,” he rasped. “That makes all the rest insignificant.”
“Stop talking in riddles, Dad. What are you trying to say? What secret?”
“What I’m trying to say is... Bedlam is not a town. It never was,” he said. “It’s an estate.”
“An estate? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He still wasn’t looking at me. “Everything from the university to the Roadhouse sits on private land, Cairo. Long ago before Bedlam. Before Crystal Canyon. A wealthy family bought this plot of land and built the weapons factory on top of it.
“Workers used to ride in from the surrounding towns, but this became inconvenient, and the family became even more wealthy from weapons sales. They could afford to build bunkhouses. Then an eatery for the workers. Then a bar.
“The next thing they knew, they had an entire live-in operation. Got to the point that workers were living in the bunkhouses through the work-week, then visiting home on their day off. They wanted to come home to their families every night, so—”
“Down came the bunkhouses and up went the cabins and two-bedrooms,” I finished. “Nice racket. The owner pays their wages, and then gets it all back as their landlord.”
Dad made to nod and winced. He settled for resting his head back on the pillow. “Likely why he gave into their requests. It was just more ways to make money, and keep his employees working efficiently. And what was losing a few plots of land?” Dad swept out a shaky arm. “He had plenty.”
“All right,” Roan said. “Bedlam wasn’t a town. It was a wealthy man’s plot of land. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has to do with everything, Roan,” Ivy said softly. “It’s how this all began.”
“Explain,” said Jacques.
“The owner suddenly found himself a de facto mayor. From dealing with his employee’s demands to the demands of their families. They needed more land for farming. They needed shops. They needed schools. They needed wells. On and on,” Ivy said. “The owner accommodated. He built schools. He built shops. And he dug wells.”