“Annie and I are going nowhere fast with these files,” Grace said. “We’ll check in with Ryan at the restaurant, then shoot over to that bar, see what we can learn.”
“I want to go with you,” said Jack. “I’ll find some way to get to Swampscott so we can drive together.”
Grace furrowed her brow. “Why?” she asked.
“I’m part of this too, Mom,” he said. “The film is one thing, but she’s my sister … guilty or not, I want to help her any way I can.” He spoke in a raw, heated voice. “I think she’s trying to tell us something, but she can’t. She’s afraid for some reason, I feel it. I want to help put that fear to rest. I owe her that. Wherever this ends up, whatever the answers—guilty, not guilty because of insanity, or somehow, some way she’s innocent—I have to help get that answer.” He paused, and Grace heard him take a shaky breath. “And I’m not going to give up until I do.”
“Meet us at the restaurant at two,” Grace told him. “Better together, as your father would say.”
* * *
When two o’clock came around, Jack strode into Big Frank’s looking quite satisfied, his phone clutched in his hand. He had texted his mother to let her know he’d borrowed a friend’s car to drive himself to Swampscott, and Grace wondered if this friend of his was the same one who had helped him dox Rachel Boyd.
“Ready, Mom?” asked Jack.
Grace and Annie were standing near the door, hoping to make a quick exit before Ryan came out of the storeroom. Grace had thought it would be a good idea to check in on her older son, who—despite living at home, sleeping in the same bedroom he had once shared with Jack—was barely on speaking terms with her. Oftentimes, she had to address him through his closed bedroom door, as though she were living with a moody teenager again. Then, what she got from him were mostly curt answers to her plaintive questions.
But when she arrived at the restaurant, Grace found Ryan in an especially foul mood. The fact that she and Annie had made good on their pledge to devote their time and resources to the investigation had upset him enough, but an incredibly low turnout at the lunch hour had sent Ryan over the edge. Grace wasn’t about to raise the point that some days business was better than others, or that the cloudy weather and threat of rain might have kept people away. He was being irrational, and anything she said would be like pouring gasoline on a fire.
Jack was holding the door for his mother and Annie when Ryan emerged from the kitchen. Grace froze when she saw the tense look on his face.
“What’s up, Jack?” Ryan said derisively. “Stopped by to see what the end of Dad’s business looks like?”
“Hey, Ryan,” said Jack with evident discomfort.
Ryan approached, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists. “Mom told me you found out a lot of stuff about Rachel Boyd. Good job helping a lost cause. Guess now I can add you to the list of people responsible for our demise.”
“Honey, please don’t be like that,” Grace urged. “It’s going to be all right. You’ll see. We’ll get the business booming again before you know it. All right? We have to go out for a bit; we’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t rush,” Ryan said, gesturing to the empty dining area. “I think I can manage fine on my own.”
Jack let go of the door he’d been holding open to approach his brother. His breathing turned shallow, and his eyes blinked rapidly. Grace sensed trouble brewing.
“Why do you have to keep being such an ass?” Jack spat out the words. “What’s your damn problem?”
Ryan got right in Jack’s face. “You know the problem.”
“She’s your sister.”
“She’s nothing to me,” said Ryan, eyes narrowing. “She let Dad die.”
Ryan’s fierce gaze intensified. Grace went cold inside.
“It’s not her fault. Why do you keep blaming her?”
“Bullshit it’s not.”
“Boys, please, don’t—”
Jack gave his brother a look of disgust. “I don’t know who you are anymore,” he said. “Something is off with you, and has been. Why’d you really quit school? You wait until senior year to drop out? Come on. What happened that you’re not telling us?”
Jack poked Ryan in the shoulder. Sensing an escalation, Grace moved to intervene. Before she could put a stop to it, however, Ryan took hold of Jack’s flannel shirt, swiveled at the waist, shifted his weight to the right, and took thin Jack with him. When Ryan let go, Jack went airborne, arms and legs flailing. His long hair, free from its ponytail, rose up behind him like a dark, silky wave. There came a thunderous clatter when he crashed hard into a set of chairs around an empty table, sending them, and him, onto the floor.