she did remember tiny bits and pieces. One was a distinctive tattoo of a red phoenix on one of her attackers’ rib cage.”
“She later saw that tattoo and was able to identify him,” Dennis surmises, his face now dipped again so he can type into his phone.
“It belongs to my partner, JT . . . otherwise known as Jonathon Townsend,” I say, and Dennis’ head snaps upward, his eyes wide with surprise.
“You’re fucking kidding me?” he practically chokes out.
“I wish I were,” I respond grimly. “But it was him, and one of the things I want you to do is look for one of the other suspects that had a matching tattoo on his wrist. It belongs to an inner ring of fraternity brothers.”
“I’ll need her to give me a drawing or something to go by,” Dennis says, still typing.
“No need. I have a matching one on the back of my shoulder.”
Again, Dennis’ head snaps up, but this time his eyes are angry. “What the fuck is going on here?”
“I was in the same fraternity as JT but three years behind him. Still in prep school when the rape happened, so you can get that look off your face. I’m not sure the tattoo has anything to do with the rape, but clearly at least two of my fraternity brothers were there. I want you to try to identify at least one of the others by the wrist tat. Sela doesn’t remember anything other than he was tan and had dark hair.”
And that he raped her ass, but I don’t tell him that.
“Understood,” he says. “What else?”
“I want you to dig deep into JT. Find out what crap he’s involved with outside of the business. I know he does drugs and still gets off on spiking women’s drinks to rape them, so I’m guessing he’s elbow deep in some dirty shit. I want anything I can use to ruin him.”
“Why don’t you just report the rape to the police?” Dennis asks.
“Sela’s considering it, but she’s afraid her memory is too spotty for them to investigate him. Also afraid he won’t roll on the others. We’d like to see if we can find out the identities of the others first and if there’s any other dirt on JT. The police are a last resort.”
“When do you want me to start?” he asks, flipping back through his phone . . . presumably for his calendar.
“The minute you walk out that door. And I want you on this exclusively. Turn down your other work or farm it out,” I say firmly.
“That’ll cost you big,” he warns.
I open my middle drawer and pull out my checkbook. It burns like acid deep in my gut knowing that I share DNA with my monster of a half brother, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make him suffer. It’s a good thing I’m fucking rich, and I’d spend every dime I have to help Sela. After pulling a check off, I scratch my signature on the bottom line and hand it to him across the desk. “There’s a blank check. Fill in the amount.”
My move doesn’t seem to surprise Dennis, but he takes the check from me and tucks it into his pocket.
Standing up from his chair, he taps a finger on his phone and says, “Let me get a picture of that tattoo.”
Pulling my T-shirt up and over my head, I turn to give my back to Dennis. I hear the sound of his snapping shots before he says, “Got it. Give me two hours to get my desk cleared and I’m all yours until we find what we need.”
“Good deal,” I tell him with a relieved smile after I tug my shirt back on. I extend a hand to him and he gives it a firm shake.
I’ve got Dennis digging deep, a week away from the office, and a beautiful girl who wants to hop around Europe with me. For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe.
Chapter 11
Sela
I gently tap my spoon against the shell of the soft-boiled egg, which is perched in a white porcelain egg cup. When it was set before me, I didn’t have a clue what to do with it. I looked across the table at Beck, who eyed his just as suspiciously. The waitress, however, was not immune to our helpless looks and had clearly encountered her share of ignorant American tourists, and showed Beck how to tap through the top quarter of