Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“What? It’s Danny, isn’t it? Tell me! I know you don't want to give me bad news, but if I need to know, I need to know.”
“Let's go to your room,” Mack says, nodding his head towards the hallway.
“O… okay.” I don't like the sound of this at all.
Scrapper looks as confused as me, but he reads the situation, and they escort me to my room like a squad of bodyguards, even though I'm sure I'm safe inside the clubhouse. All of this is putting my nerves on edge. Mack closes the door behind us, while Reaper pulls me down onto the couch and into his lap, so he has a solid grip on me.
“Enough with the melodrama, guys,” I say, trying to lighten the mood a little. Hoping that it's something that can be lightened.
Mack sits across from me, while Scrapper drops into the couch next to me and Reaper. Mack's got his phone in his hand, but he's making very sure that the screen's pointing away from me. “Snark's been keeping tabs on the email account you used to contact Mullerby, looking for anything dangerous or unusual. You know that.”
I nod. They suggested it, and it made sense. It’s an account I only use for school, anyway. You never know what they might try to sneak onto your computer. I trust Snark to do it respectfully. “Why? Did something come in?”
“It did,” Reaper says quietly. Tensely. There's a simmering fury under it that I'm not used to hearing. “A video was sent a few hours ago. You can make the call, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for you to see. We don't wanna mess with your stuff, but we had Snark delete it from your mail anyway. It's… graphic.”
“But it involves Danny,” says Mack.
Oh my God. “Is he… he's not—”
“He’s involved, but as far as we know he’s still alive.” The way Mack phrases his answer makes it hard to be relieved.
“What aren’t you telling me? You know how worried I've been. Just tell me what they sent.” There's a lump like a beach ball in my throat.
Mack’s expression shutters, like he has to close himself down to get this done. “The video shows Danny killing Mullerby, and then several guards burst in and beat him into submission.”
I blink, totally unable to process that. My Danny? Mullerby? How would they even end up in the same place? How? All these questions, but all I manage to produce is, “Wha… what?”
“The video's pretty straightforward,” says Mack, shaking his head. “If this is fake, it's good work, and from what Eagle-eye’s contacts say, this is what they’re blaming the riot on. They’re gonna say that your brother heard his old attorney was gonna visit the prison, overpowered a guard to get a gun and kick off the riots as a cover, and then tracked down Mullerby and killed him in revenge.”
“No.” I shake my head, refusing to believe. “No. Show it to me. It's fake. You don't know Danny like I do. I'll be able to tell you it's fake. I promise.”
I don't miss the skeptical glance that flashes between Mack and Reaper, and I'm pretty sure Scrapper doesn't either. I have to see it. I’ll see something they missed. It might not even be Danny. AI is getting really impressive these days.
Mack puts the phone in my hands. The video is already up, so all I have to do is start it. It takes me a good five seconds to build up the courage.
Then I tap.
The camera is fixed near the ceiling, like CCTV. There's smoke, something exploding. People are yelling angrily in the background, but not in the shot. The video cuts to a different camera. Mullerby waiting in a room, pacing back and forth. He looks agitated and he’s wringing his hands. The door opens and Danny walks in. His prison uniform is torn, but he looks unhurt for now. The expression on his face is something I’ve never seen. Like he’s shut down everything that makes him himself.
“Who are you? Please! I don’t even work in the prison. I’m not who you’re looking for.”
Danny cocks his head. “You don’t recognize me? Thirty-eight fucking years behind bars. And it’s all your fault.” He reaches into his waistband and pulls out a gun, aiming it at Mullerby.
I scream at the screen. “No, Danny! What are you doing?”
“No!” is the last thing Mullerby yells before Danny pulls the trigger. Blood splatters everywhere, and Mullerby hits the floor, the ruined wreck of his skull mercifully hidden behind his shoulder.
“Serves you fucking right,” grinds out of Danny.
It all makes perfect sense. He was given an opportunity for revenge and he took it, but it looks and sounds forced to me. That wasn’t a crime of passion. If Danny had really been plotting for years to get Mullerby, wouldn’t he have sounded a little more, I don’t know, excited? But how well do I know my brother anymore?