in the actual fuck is happening right now? Can you believe this?”
Devlin was right behind her, and put calming hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay. No one needs to panic.”
“Don’t panic? Do you hear yourself? The stupid Kendalls are suing us for a death that ain’t even happened.”
“Can they do this?” Jameson asked.
“Legally speaking, yes,” Devlin said. “Now that they supposedly have a body, she’s no longer considered missing. She’s dead.”
“So they’re suing the estate?” Jonah asked. “Let’s forget for a second that Callie isn’t dead. They can’t have enough proof to implicate him.”
“Do they know something we don’t?” Shelby asked.
“Not necessarily,” Devlin said. “This isn’t my specialty, but I read over the Complaint. It alleges that Jonah Sr. aided Callie’s disappearance and either failed to prevent or was complicit in her death. The burden of proof in a civil suit like this isn’t the same as a criminal trial. They don’t have to prove he did it to win.”
“And think about it,” Bowie said, ticking points off on his fingers. “There’s the sweater. Callie’s fingerprints in Mom’s car. Dad’s speeding ticket in New York putting him near the location of that body.”
“And they aren’t alleging he killed her,” Devlin said. “Which means they don’t have to prove that he did. Essentially, they’re alleging he helped her run away, and as a result of that, she died, putting him at fault.”
“It fits with their story that she had mental issues,” Cassidy said, then glanced at me. “Sorry, I don’t mean to talk like you aren’t here. My point is, they’ve always claimed you were depressed and unstable. Adding that you were a runaway means they don’t have to change their story. It all sounds plausible.”
I nodded at Cassidy—she was right—but my shoulders pinched with tension. Their story had clearly been designed to paint me as the problem and them as the poor victims of a depressed teenager. It made me sick.
“What’s their game?” Bowie asked, and I wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or expecting an answer.
“Are they trying to force her out of hiding?” Jameson asked.
“I don’t think so,” Devlin said. He squeezed Scarlett’s shoulders and stepped around her. “I know we don’t have proof, but if they’re behind all those incidents—the forensics report, Shelby’s attack, intimidating that retired teacher, even Abbie Gilbert’s death—they’re trying very hard to make sure the truth doesn’t come out. They want her to stay dead.”
“So why sue us?” Gibson growled.
“This is just my opinion,” Devlin said. “But I think it’s an intimidation tactic. I don’t know if their case is strong enough to win, but I doubt they care. A lawsuit could bury all of you in legal fees, not to mention stress, for the foreseeable future. If they have deep enough pockets, they won’t think twice about getting you all tangled up in the legal system.”
“I think he’s right,” Cassidy said. “I think they realize things are happening and there’s a chance the truth about Callie will come out. They’re trying to keep y’all from digging.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if at least one of you gets a call from their lawyer or someone who represents them,” Devlin said. “I bet they try to get you to do something in exchange for dropping the lawsuit.”
“Something like what?” Bowie asked.
“Probably a public statement confirming their story,” Devlin said. “It would be a PR stunt. Something to make them look gracious and forgiving and get you all on record saying their story is true. Or I could be wrong, and they just want to ruin your lives by emptying your bank accounts.”
I raised my hand, like a kid in a classroom. “Can I say something?”
Heads turned in my direction.
“This isn’t really a problem. I’m not dead. I’m sitting right here. So all I have to do is come forward, prove my identity, and this lawsuit goes away.”
Gibson stopped moving and stood, his posture defensive. “Hold on.”
I put up a hand. “I know you’re worried about what will happen when the Kendalls find out I’m here. I am, too. I won’t lie, I’m scared. But I can’t let y’all get sued.”
“I’m with Gibson,” Jonah said. “We need to think this through and remember who we’re dealing with.”
Gibson tipped his chin to him.
“This is some messed up shit,” Bowie said, pushing the papers away. “But y’all are right—we have to think about what the judge will do if his dead daughter suddenly reappears.”
“We have time,” Devlin said and the professionalism in his tone was calming.