Page 37 of Thicker Than Water
“Not all of them. Only a couple.”
Lou sighs again. “Sienna.” He says my name with all the disappointment of a parent who’s caught their kid breaking the rules. “We can’t do anything with this. Not only because you handled the evidence, but also because the police could use thisagainstJason. Say you’re right about what Gavin was doing. Since Jason brought in some of those customers, they could say he was working with him, that maybe their partnership took a turn, or maybe Jason wanted to reap the rewards all for himself. You’d be handing them motive. Or at least a heap more suspicion.”
Acid burns in my stomach. “But Jasonwasn’tworking with him.”
“You don’t know that.”
I pause, taken aback. “Um, yeah, Lou, I do. Because I know my brother.”
“Regardless, if this makes it to a courtroom, a prosecutor could still construct a narrative in which Jason was very much involved with Gavin.”
I march into the family room, circle the coffee table like it’s a suspect I’m questioning. “So what am I supposed to do? Iknowthis is connected; I can feel it. And what did you expect when you told me Gavin was into something shady? How could I not look into it?”
“I understand you’re anxious and frustrated.” Lou’s voice is pinched, like he’s biting back a stronger retort. “But you can’t be inserting yourself into the investigation. Is that clear?”
His tone needles me, so similar to Wyatt’s from earlier:Do you understand?Like I’m a child in need of chiding. Even still, I do understand: from now on, whatever leads I follow, I’ll have to be more careful.
Lou continues through my silence. “You need to leave the issue of Gavin’s finances—and anything else that comes up—to the police.”
“But why are they suspicious of his finances in the first place? Because it doesn’t seem like the cops have found what’s in the gutter machine.”
At the kitchen table, Julia has set aside her dinner in favor of her laptop. She hunches close to the screen, forehead pleated with confusion—or maybe concern.
Lou waits a beat before answering, as if reluctant to move on from scolding me. “Well,” he says, “you actually mentioned it yourself this morning. There was an arrest made a week before Gavin’s murder. A man lashed out at him in a restaurant, causing a scene.”
Hope bolts through me. “And you know why the man attacked him?”
“I haven’t seen the arrest report yet, but I got a brief rundown.When they booked him, he kept urging them to look into Integrity Plus’s finances, insisting Gavin was committing some type of fraud. My assumption—since the policeareinterested in Jason’s financial records and how they might tie him to Gavin—is that they have reason to believe the claims were credible.”
I shoot my fist into the air, miming my triumph. At the table, Julia doesn’t look my way or cock her head to question my reaction. Her gaze is pasted to her computer, and the reflection from her laptop makes her eyes shine, as if she’s reading the screen through a glaze of tears.
“Who’s the guy?” I ask Lou. “Who did they arrest?”
Again, he hesitates. “His name’s Henry Hendrix.”
My fist loosens. “Wait.”
There’s something familiar about that name—the alliteration, the obnoxious repetition. Maybe it was in Gavin’s notebook, one of the customers he offered a discount. I’m about to pull up my pictures from the warehouse when Julia releases a groan so deep in her throat, it sounds like she’s wrenched it straight from her heart.
“Jules?”
Her mouth is twisted in horror, her expression haunted. My skin breaks out in goose bumps. I rush toward her, Lou’s voice already shrinking in my ear: “Sienna?”
“Sorry, Lou, I’ve got to go. Thanks.” I drop the phone onto the table. “Jules, what is it?”
At first, her mouth moves without sound. Then she manages some words, so tortured and raspy they sound like a retch. “I’m in Jason’s email.”
“What? Why?”
A tear slices down her cheek. “I wanted to check his Google Drive— The names. His customers in Gavin’s notebook. See if he kept documents about them.”
“On his personal drive? Why would he? And why are you bothering with that? We know he had no idea what Gavin was up to.”
Julia shakes her head. “The cops took his laptop. I wanted to see what they might find. But— I saw his email, and…”
She trails off, then presses her hand against her mouth like she’s going to be sick. She stares up at me, her wet, worried eyes rendering her a younger version of herself. For a second, I’m thrust back to the day she was in labor with Aiden, when a nurse snapped at Julia for asking what time the doctor would arrive.Oh come on, don’t be one of those, the nurse spat,he’ll get here when he gets here—and it wasn’t Jason, gripping her right hand, who Julia turned to; it was me, on her left. She signaled the same panic she’s showing me now, and I chewed the nurse out, promised her I’d file a complaint if she spoke to Julia like that again. That day, Julia’s need was easy to translate from only a single look, but I’m not sure how to read her now.
“And what, Jules? Come on, finish your sentence.”
