Page 32 of We're All Liars
“How do you know this?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Um. Yeah, it does,” I reply.
“No, I mean the evidence doesn’t make a difference, and your father knows it’s not admissible in court. I bugged his office. He and Paul hatched out the plan. That prick has the biggest crush on your father and will do anything for him. Even murder.”
So… that is kind of news to me. I knew he worshipped Dad, but I never got the vibe that he had a thing for him. So it makes sense he can’t get it up for sex. Limp dick Paul was sleeping with underage students instead of the person he had a hard-on for—my father.
“Does my mom know about Paul’s crush?”
“No. I did tell her about the deal I had with your father. She said it didn’t matter because she already had proof of his infidelity from years ago, and her lawyers have an ironclad confirmation.”
Maddie? She must know about Maddie. And she’s going to use her in court. Why is my heart in my throat while I listen to Thatcher continue?
“And your father knows your mom is about to divorce him and take everything. So, with the three of you dead, he stands to inherit it all. That’s what he’s been after this entire time. And in his own words to Paul, killing you all is the easiest solution, and a guarantee that he’ll get everything.”
My throat grows tighter. And I can’t speak. Thankfully, Cade asks, “Why didn’t you just go to Shelby with this and leave Morgan out of it?”
“She won’t take my calls at all since we ended things. And even worse, now, since the news of my arrest broke, she had her attorney tell me that she’s filing a restraining order if I don’t stop trying to contact her. But I swear I’m trying to help.”
“Yourself,” I squeak out. But I’m not even mad at him. I understand him. Who I don’t understand is my father.
Thatcher levels his vision with mine. “If you ask me, this helps us allexceptyour father.”
“And Paul,” I add because that weasel is about to suffer too.
“He set up the bet.” Thatcher glances to Cade. “With the same bookies your father deals with. They’re all fucking crooked. I actually did want the school to take the championship.”
“How do you know about my father’s gambling?” Cade asks.
“Because I used the same guys when I got in a tight spot. It just got me in a worse one when we lost that game.”
Cade laughs. “The one my dad bet on. It keeps getting better.”
“Comforting,” I add, “but why is he wanting Saint Juliet to lose? I don’t get it. The championship is the only thing that has mattered to him.”
“No. It mattered to me. I needed the leg up for my political career, which is dead for sure now. But your father wants to use the moment as a pity party. It’s a cover for him. He’ll be the poor man who lost the championship and his family on the same day. Not to mention he’s going to line a lot of pockets by losing the game. And in return, they’ll owe him a favor, which he’s cashing in by hiring them to kill his family. No record. No financial trail. He gets away with murder.”
“Where?” It’s the only thing I need to know.
“On the Causeway. He’s going to have the limo pushed over the railing of the bridge at the twenty-mile marker. There will be individuals waiting under the bridge to make sure the three of you don’t escape the vehicle, while ensuring he’s the only one who does.”
The room spins. Maybe it’s just the lack of oxygen to my brain because I can’t seem to take in much air. My dad has plotted and planned to kill me, my brother, and my mother. That motherfucker isn’t going to just suffer, he’s going to remember me every waking second and even in his nightmares. All this shit for money.
I shove the chair back from the table and tell Thatcher, “One million next week when my brother is safe, and my dad isn’t a problem for anyone anymore.”
He nods his head and remains at the table as we approach the guards to leave. I need out of here. I feel trapped. They’re not moving fast enough. I need to get my things back and get my ass out the door. “I have to go.”
I almost sayFuck itand leave everything here. I’m barely holding on before the lady finally gives me my belongings, and I tear outside, Cade on my heels. “Morgan, talk to me.”
“What do you want to talk about?” I take in a deep breath, finally able to fill my lungs.
“I’ll win. I know we can. Then your dad will be screwed. The bookies will handle him.”
“No.” I shake my head erratically as I step up to Cade. “You’re going to lose the game. Or I swear to God I will never speak to you again as long as I live.”
He grabs me, squeezing tight enough that it hurts, as he shouts, “He’s going to kill you, Morgan. Did you not hear that?”