Page 137 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Chapter Sixty-Two
Anthony
You don’t know everything! You remember only what I told you.
Sam’s raging words replayed in my head last night and all through the morning and afternoon. Just what the hell did he do? What did he tell her?
Your head is blank! An empty canvas.
Iris said she was in a coma for a year. Can you actually erase somebody’s memory? Or was he exaggerating? It would be like him. He likes to talk big and spend bigger than he can really back up. Still…
I swivel in my office chair and look out onto the bustling city at my feet. He doesn’t want me near her. He even brought up Mother in an attempt to manipulate me.
Edgar’s findings float up in my mind. Iris is a real person. She checked out. So she can’t possibly be my Ivy…at least, according to my brother.
But…
My phone pings with a text. It’s from Harry.
FYI I’m still in Tempérane. Mom fainted dead away at dinner yesterday.
My gut tightens, a sour tang flooding my mouth. Is she okay?
She’s okay now.
What did the doctor say?
Nothing. She didn’t see one.
Shouldn’t she, though?Mother’s so frail, so delicate, like a hothouse orchid that’s never faced even the gentlest of breezes.
She says she’s fine.
I grit my teeth. Didn’t anybody tell you when a woman says she’s fine, she’s lying?
You think I can make her do what she doesn’t want to?
I start to type no, then stop. Why…yes. Sam. A sudden chill sweeps through me, especially after the confrontation last night. There was such a superior look in his eyes, and it wasn’t from money. It was from having something on someone. But first things first. I reply, You used my jet to fly there because you’re the only one who can cajole her into doing something. So fire up your magic. Get her checked out. If anything happens to her, I’m going to have my pilot run you over with the plane you love so much.
Then I call Jill.
“Yes, Blackwood,” she says briskly. She’s never touched a cigarette in her life, but she has a smoker’s voice, low and raspy.
“I don’t care what you’re doing out of the country. If you come back now, I’ll double—no, triple your fee.”
She clicks her tongue. “Lucky for you, things wrapped up early, and I just landed in LAX.”
“I want to know exactly where and how Sam Peacher got his initial investment to start Peacher & Son and made his fortune.”
“Read articles about him and his company. There should be plenty,” she says.
“I thought you liked money.”
“I like giving my clients value.”
“I don’t want some junk a journalist on a tight deadline dug up.”
She sighs. “All right. How deep?”
“All the way till you hit the bottom. Then bring out another shovel.”
“I see.” I can almost hear her mind whirring. “It won’t be fast.”
“Just don’t take too long. Report back every week.”
“Will do.” She hangs up.
I lay the phone down carefully on my desk and consider. One way or the other, I’m going to break whatever hold Sam has over Iris…and find out exactly what “memories” he’s filled her head with.
