JAMESON
I anxiously sat against an arm of the couch, my arms tightly crossed while I watched Elizabeth walk toward their bedroom. My head was beginning to throb from clenching my jaw so tightly. I was waiting for what seemed like an eternity, pulling my hands against my face in exhaustion when Elizabeth and Thomas slowly stepped out from their room. He was wearing sweatpants and an undershirt. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.
“Hello, Jameson,” he greeted me with a stern nod, quickly walking to the kitchen.
“Hello.” Ass.
“Jameson,” Elizabeth quickly whispered from Thomas’s shadow, “I haven’t told him about Sophia leaving yet. Nor have we discussed Celine.”
“What is there to discuss?” I asked, hopeful that Elizabeth might grow a conscience larger than Thomas’s…which isn’t a hard thing to do.
“I’d like to make a toast.” Thomas returned to the room, carrying a chilled bottle of white wine and handing one flute to Elizabeth, who hesitantly accepted it. She glanced at me, worried. He’s lost his mind.
“To my beautiful family on one of our last nights together,” Thomas continued, lifting his filled glass to the air. “Jameson, have a drink.”
“I don’t break the law.” Thomas shoved a filled glass into my elbow, forcing me to hold it.
He grinned at me, swigging his glass. “In due time, my boy.”…the hell?
“Wh-what?” Elizabeth stuttered, the flute shaking in her bony hands. I swallowed hard, forcing the lump of knotted nerves down my throat.
“My darling wife,” Thomas wrapped his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and swiftly kissed her forehead, “thinks I’m not aware that Celine Pembroke phoned the hotel earlier. Elizabeth, Elizabeth…dear, I know everything.”
“You didn’t know about Bellini,” I snapped, watching him without expression. Thomas turned toward me, a knowing smile spreading along his lips.
“That’s true,” he agreed, “but I do now.”
Elizabeth broke from beneath his hold and placed her filled glass on the coffee table before stepping away from us. Her hands locked against her hips, her posture steadying in preparation for battle.
“Thomas Kerry,” she snapped, “you need to tell us everything you know immediately. Enough with the chit chat and wine. What is it that you think you know?”
Thomas cowered slightly beneath Elizabeth’s pressing glare and sighed in defeat, his body going limp into one of the love-seats. He motioned for us to join him, as Elizabeth did, but I remained at a distance, holding the empty glass and watching him with confusion. I imagined Soph alone, somewhere, lost, and my heart snapped.
“Thomas?” Elizabeth pressed, her legs tightly crossing impatiently.
Thomas looked at me, sending a glance that a father might exchange with his son. At least that’s what I’d imagined, not having had my own dad for so many years. Despite his arrogance and lack of soul, he watched me wearily before continuing, passing on appreciation or sympathy toward me. It stung.
“Bellini hasn’t always been a criminal. He started out wanting to help, or at least that was his act. Who knows? He was working with the DOJ because his girlfriend’s sister was murdered.” He looked up at me, his eyes filled with defeat. “That’s not all.”
“Go on.”
“Bellini has connections from all over the country, Jameson. His mother is from Cleveland and his father grew up in Newark. It’s his brother, though, that’s the real issue.”
“Stop with these vague comments, Thomas,” I snarled, flying from the sofa, “Tell me what the hell you know already!”
“I’ve had Pembroke on this case since day one, Jameson. It wasn’t until the last week that she put the puzzle together for me. Bellini’s brother took a job in Gary, Indiana once he couldn’t find construction work in Cleveland. That led him to Chicago.”
“Chicago?”
Thomas nodded, his eyes glossing over as he studied me. “His brother fell in with the wrong crowd while on a job. Gambling debt. Drugs. You name it.”
“Jesus.” I fell to my knees, knowing exactly where Thomas’s story was going. There was no warning of the vomit that poured from my mouth, responding to the nerves deep within my heart.
“Go on,” Elizabeth whispered to Thomas, running to my side and stroking my back. I heaved until the tears started, crying for the second time that day. Once for Soph and once for Gabriel.
With a heavy, reluctant sigh, Thomas continued, “Bellini’s brother fell into debt with a gang. He even tapped Bellini out of money for a while because the sorry bastard lent his brother so much. This gang though, they took Bellini’s brother in and made him one of them for his debt. He was one of the cronies, the murderers. He was there, Jameson, that night, and he was one the police caught.”
“Where is he now?” The words struggled to form from my wet lips. I wanted to die, right then and there. This all felt too raw. Think of Soph.
“He was murdered in prison.”
“Lucky bastard,” Elizabeth scoffed, her hands still stroking my back.
“It doesn’t end there, darling,” Thomas groaned. “The gang couldn’t give a shit about Bellini’s brother. They don’t want revenge.”
“He does,” I realized.
“Wait,” Elizabeth stood up, her head shaking violently. “His girlfriend’s sister was murdered?”
I felt their eyes on me, burning into the bowels of my conscience as I hovered over the soiled rug.
“No,” I looked away, rubbing a hand over my mouth. “Not possible.”
I lifted from the sofa, stepping away and beginning to pace. Anything to stop this violent rage building inside of me. Anything to stop the nausea. I needed to find Sophia.