By the time Emily Hollins walked back into my office, I already knew the story.
Her brother’s name had been circling around the same kind of rumors for years. The kind that people dare not to repeat because saying them out loud would make it all real. I’d heard a few of them myself when I was still on the force. It was difficult to even mention the rumors then. It made my efforts to investigate Evan and the rest of the Hollins family impossible. More of the same despairing shit that made me quit the force.
“Hey, Jacob. I’m sorry, I know I’m a bit early.” Emily says as she steps into my office, almost tripping on her stilettos. It’s a miracle she was able to get past the stairs to the office without tearing something. Her small purse flies behind her as she adjusts her patented shoulder length blonde hair, the kind I’ve seen in magazines too many times to count. Being this close to her makes me realize just how much she doesn’t look like Mac or Linda. She always felt like the only one who tried to seem put together.
She extends her hand out to me, interrupting my train of thought.
I stand up from my chair and adjust the collar on my black shirt. I walk around my wooden desk and shake Emily’s hand. Her freshly painted white nails match her dress. It looks like she should be at a cocktail party, yet she’s here in my scarcely decorated office with only one window.
“It’s okay. My call probably woke you up yesterday, so it’s only fair we get here early. I have a few questions for you if you want to take a seat.” I say, as I gesture with my hand towards the seat across from mine. I catch her eyes focused on the beige file in the middle of my desk.
I walk back over to my chair which is holding my suit jacket and take a seat as I analyze her next move. She stares at the file for a few more seconds before looking at me and smiling nervously. She starts to close the door softly behind her. I can briefly read the emboldened vinyl lettering on the glass panel as she closes the door.
I have to force myself to peel my eyes away from my own name. Emily takes a few careful steps and pulls out her chair before sitting down. I know she knows something about what her brother did. Hell, everyone knew a little something. What I can’t figure out is why she wanted me involved in the first place.
“You heading somewhere?” I say, as she places her purse down by her feet. She tilts her head in confusion as she looks back up at me.
“No? I just got here.” She lets out a small laugh. Her calm demeanor breaks as her light voice hits a pitch I haven’t heard yet. I can’t help but laugh as well before responding.
“My bad. I meant after this. You just aren’t dressed like you’re here to talk to me.” I lean back in my chair and grab the small green tin of Russell’s Mints out of my jacket pocket. She clears her throat before she starts to speak again.
“—Do you want one?” I hold out the open tin of mints across the desk.
She looks down at the mints and her leg begins to bounce erratically. She looks back and forth between me and the mints as the silence stretches on.
“...I think I’m good. Thank you, though.” She flashes a brief smile at me as she forces her leg to stop bouncing with her hands.
“Okay. No pressure.” I say as I reach my hand back and place the mints back into my jacket pocket. I take my eyes off Emily but I can still feel her staring at me.
“Sorry. You were about to tell me what church gathering you’re heading to after this? Or is it a more charitable event this time around?” She laughs at my comment and I laugh with her. I don’t think we’re laughing at the same thing.
“No. Nothing like that. That’s more of my parent’s area anyway. I was actually just going to visit my mom and tell her the results of what I’ve asked you to investigate.” Emily’s bubbly personality goes cold and neutral as she speaks. Her smile softens along with her tone and facial expressions. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she has nothing to hide.
“Right. The suspicious activity on Evan’s bank accounts.” I tighten my jaw as I speak.
“Is that what the file is? The account statements and whatnot?” Emily questions. Her eyes linger on the beige folder sitting neatly in front of me. I shake my head no, in response.
“No. No, that’s not what it is. I’ll get to that in just a second.” A moment of silence plays between us as she tries her best to maintain eye contact. I was right. It’s definitely her poker face.
“Your mom, though. That would be Mrs. Linda Hollins, right?”
“Mhm.” She says, slowly nodding her head.
“How has she been dealing with it? Your brother’s death.” I ask plainly. Might as well start there. She looks down solemnly at the grey flooring beneath her feet before shrugging.
“As good as anyone I guess. She’s dealt with it before with–”
“—Your dad. I know. Two years ago. Everyone in the precinct had to go to his funeral. It was crazy. Still is. I can’t remember a time when Mac wasn’t the mayor. He was always there. From when I was giving out traffic tickets to when I was the detective in homicide. He just seemed to follow me, you know?” I bite down on the mint hard. The flavor hits my tongue instantly. It’s the only thing helping me fight back against everything I want to say.
“You don’t have to act like you respect him or something. There’s no need, really. I know that you don’t.” Emily crosses her arms as she speaks.
“How would you know that?” I harshly scratch the stubble on my chin.
“He used to talk about you.”
“He used to say you were smart. Ambitious. Maybe too much for your own good.” Emily says. I can’t help but smile at that bullshit.
“That’s funny. Did he also say I was an asshole? Maybe he told you about how I’m the biggest, blackest pain in his ass? That’s what he told me, anyway.” She looks away as I finish the last part of my sentence. Shit. I can’t afford to have her shut down on me now.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a second.
“Back to Evan. He died almost a year ago, now. I know you told me the first time we sat down that you are the appointed legal executor of his will. Do you share that responsibility with your mom?” Emily shakes her head as soon as I mention her mom.
“No. It’s just me. He left everything to me.”
“Why? I mean I get he’s your brother and all. That I get. But why wouldn’t he just put that on your mom?”
She takes a shaky breath. I feel her leg start to bounce again before she realizes what she’s doing and stops herself.
“I take care of my boys. Sorry. I’m talking about my nephews. His sons, Bill and EJ. Bill is eight and Evan Jr. is three. His wife isn’t in the picture anymore and he didn’t want them around his parents as much. He always left them with me. I try my best to make sure they’re good people. That’s all I can do, you know?” She smiles at me. I can’t return the favor. I didn’t know Evan had a wife, let alone kids. I glance down at the beige file. I try to stop my hand from shaking as I rest it on top of the file.
“So you’re the only one who has access? That’s why you noticed the suspicious activity?”
“Mhm.” She says as her eyes glide down to the file. We’re both stuck in the moment. Waiting for the other to release us. It might as well be me. It’s always me.
I opened the folder. On top lay bank transfers from the last twelve months of Evan Hollins’ account. The numbers are laid out bare for both of us to see.
“Six hundred and twelve million dollars.”
“That’s how much money is in Evan’s account as of–” I look down to my father’s big silver watch wrapped snug around my wrist. I can barely make out today’s date and time through the cracked glass.
“Friday, September thirteenth, at 8:43AM.” I look back to her as she sits up as straight as a board.
“Okay? That’s it? Your brother has more money in one bank account than the whole city of Atwood combined. And you want me to sit here and believe you think that he made this money from art galas and bible retreats.” I say with a little more venom than intended. She swallows hard and looks to the ground, then back up to me.
“I’m not telling you what to believe. I paid you to look into large withdrawals. To tell me who you think is making them. Why they’re making them. How they’re making them.” Emily says as her voice reaches a new calm. Too calm. I can’t help but grin.
“That’s the problem. Everything you paid me to look for was too easy to find. Everything was exactly where I’d want it to be. Bank transfers. Old associates. Victims who suddenly felt ready to talk.” I notice her flinch at me saying the word victim. I feel the need to grind my teeth but I know it’s not about me right now. It’s not about how I feel. It’s about them.
“That kind of luck doesn’t just happen by accident.” She doesn’t respond. She can barely maintain eye contact with me as her shoulders drop into a slouch. The office falls silent. I can only hear the harsh sounds of city traffic just outside of the window that sits behind me.
“You knew about the girls.”
“You suspected that your brother was trafficking women?”
“Why didn’t you say anything? All of these years?”
“I was scared.” Her voice was barely audible. I reach back and grab another mint before tossing it in my mouth.
“...You know, I talked to one of them. One of his girls. He likes–sorry, excuse me, liked to call them his toys. Her name is Rylee Monet. Only twenty five, about the same age as you. It took some digging but I tracked her down. She lives about three hours outside of the city now. Quiet neighborhood. Nice house. The kind if place you buy when you’re trying to pretend that someone didn’t ruin your fucking life.” I say crudely. She doesn’t flinch, not even close. But she doesn’t try to meet my eyes again either.
“She told me about the rooms. Eight girls at a time. One bucket to share between them. Evan would come by every once in a while and pick one of them to join him in his room. Rylee was unfortunate enough to be picked.” I feel her start to bounce her leg underneath the desk. Her knee continues to rapidly tap the oak of the desk as I continue.
“...but it’s not what happened to her when he was alive that got me thinking. It was the five figure numbers she started receiving monthly after he already died.” A pause lingers longer than it should. I was hoping she’d say something, anything by now.
“So I’ll ask this. What are you not telling me, Emily? Why is it that everything I’m investigating is so easy to find.” I stare through her. She nods her head gently before looking up at me. Tears begin to well up in her eyes.
“You’re good at your job.”
“No one’s that good.” I bite down on the singular mint in my mouth and chew on the small remaining pieces. My eyes never leave hers.
She sniffles and begins to hyperventilate. Fast, shallow breaths. Her pale skin turns a shade of bright pink. A tear falls down her eye and she quickly wipes it away. I glance down at my watch. A silent reminder of second chances. I reach into the top drawer of my desk and pull out a box of tissues and slide them across the table.
“Thank you.” Emily’s voice breaks as she speaks. I nod my head in response.
“Listen. You and I both know that your family is rich enough to make this all go away. Permanently. Especially if they had access to even a fifth of this kind of money. So why wouldn’t they?” She pauses and thinks about what I just said. For ten seconds too long.
“He’s family. I don’t know why they didn’t. Maybe they didn’t know.”
I scoff at the ridiculousness at that comment.
“Maybe they did. Maybe they just didn’t care.”
Care. I mention that word and she stiffens up again. Like a deer in the woods hearing a branch snap in the distance.
“Did you care, Emily? Did you care about what he did?” Her expression goes from one of sadness to one of despair.
For the first time since I’ve met her, she looks at me honestly. I see a frightened little girl behind the eyes of a great pretender. An actor. An act she’s been building so long, I don’t think she knows how to be present anymore. I see someone I failed to save from him. From all of it.
“You knew.” I dread the words as I say them. Her lips part like she might argue but nothing comes out.
I slide the file across the desk before standing up and putting my coat on. Bank transfers. Witness statements. Photos. Enough to bury a man twice.
“You didn’t want the truth. You just wanted a witness.”
I leave the evidence on the table as I walk out of the office. She still doesn’t touch it as I leave.
Comments