Page 45 of Rage's Solace
Harold exclaims, “Hell if I know! I’ve never laid eyes on my boss. Not once in all the five years I’ve worked here.”
“So what? The two of you just hang out here and play house, or something?”
He gives a nervous laugh. “Conrad used to come here to ski and socialize with the other residents. Occasionally, his brother Ashton puts in an appearance for a week or two at a time.”
“What’s Ashton like?” I ask. I couldn’t help but notice the look of revulsion that flashed on the woman’s face when his name was mentioned.
“Like all the other wealthy folks around here. He likes his breakfast served hot at eight o’clock sharp and doesn’t usually take visitors. He just hangs around and skis occasionally.”
“Is he creepy?” Holding up one hand, I explain, “The only reason I ask is because I heard he was.”
Harold takes a deep breath and chooses his words carefully. “It’s not my job to cast aspersions upon the character of my employers.”
Rigs glances at me and murmurs, “That’s a yes, if ever I’ve heard one.”
Siege rushes back in. “The rest of the house is clear. Zen is accessing their electronic devices and Ven reports the drones aren’t picking up any unusual activity outside.”
The woman blurts out, “Can I go now? I don’t have anything to do with whatever is going on between you and Mr. Whitmore.”
Rigs answers, “Of course you can’t leave while we’re here. Can’t have you running to the cops. Have a seat. We’re not the kind of men to hurt women.”
Harold quips, “That just the kind of thing a criminal would stay before they start doing evil shit.”
“I said we don’t hurt women. You’re not a woman, so unless you want a tune up, shut your mouth unless we ask you aquestion,” Rigs says menacingly. I gotta admit our club minister is not a man you’d want to mess with.
As we walk off to huddle, I can hear Harold grumble under his breath, “This is so fucking messed up, we only work for the man.”
The woman beside him shushes him, probably afraid that Rigs is going to beat the shit out of him.
When we’re on the other side of the room, Siege lowers his voice. “Zen is checking the electronic devices for intel, hopefully we’ll find something incriminating on the fucker.”
“I doubt he’s going to find anything.” I no sooner get the words out of my mouth than Zen is yelling for us. We herd Harold and the lady who never told us her name upstairs into the master bedroom. What I see on the screen makes me furious. Zen’s opened a folder of pictures and it’s just hundreds of images of Priscilla going back years, a reminder that Conrad was obsessed with the one and only woman I ever loved. She was mine all those years ago and he used deceit and her parents to steal her from me.
“I hate Conrad Whitmore with the fire of a thousand suns,” I say angrily.
Zen informs me grimly, “This isn’t Conrad’s. It’s Ashton’s. He left a flash drive in the computer.”
My mouth falls open. “What! Are you saying that Ashton was as obsessed with Priscilla as his brother?”
Harold snorts a laugh. My hand was on his throat before I even made the conscious decision to throttle him. “What the fuck is so funny, asshole?”
The woman speaks up. “Conrad was never obsessed with Priscilla. It was always Ashton. Conrad only married her to keep Ashton from having her, it was the only way to keep her safe.”
I drop Harold and he crumples to the floor gasping for breath. Every head in the room turns to look at the woman. Rigs asks, “Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Emily Pemberton. I was hired to cook and clean, originally at the Whitmore estate in town. But I ended up getting transferred here after I discovered Ashton’s sick obsession with Priscilla. The reason his family got him institutionalized for so—”
Harold chokes out, “Shut up, Em.”
“I’m tired of watching people like the Whitmores get away with stuff. It’s high time someone spoke up.”
Turning back to me, she explains, “I’ve been with the family for almost fifteen years. From what I could tell, Ashton has been obsessed with Priscilla since they were really young, maybe twelve or thirteen. She must have had some kind of inkling that he wasn’t right because she never would give him the time of day. He used to complain about that a lot to his father. Mr. Whitmore didn’t care anything about Priscilla. He hated her because he had to listen to Ashton complain about her so much.”
“Then why the fuck did Malcolm work so hard to leverage her into marrying into his family?” I ask, infuriated with what I’m hearing.
“Ashton was a bad seed, even as a kid there was something wrong with him. Conrad was always the golden child, the youngest, the one who could do no wrong.” Pausingthoughtfully, she adds, “They tried to get him help, but after his wife passed away Malcolm just let him get away with things. There were accusations against his oldest son, but he’d pay for people’s silence.” She stops for a moment, and it looks like she’s wondering whether to go further with the story. I don’t know what it is, but the talk about buying silence is making my Spidey senses tingle.
“Go on,” I say.