Chapter 8 - The Price of the Truth
Lucian Voss began talking forty-eight hours after his arrest.
Not because he developed a conscience.
Because Sabine abandoned him.
Martin Ellis showed him records proving she had transferred money into a private account three days before his arrest.
A contingency fund.
Enough money for one person to disappear.
Not two.
Lucian stared at the bank statement for a long time.
Then he asked for coffee.
By midnight, prosecutors had eleven hours of recorded testimony.
Sabine ordered Peter Lockidge to weaken the brake hose.
Lucian arranged access to the vehicle.
Sabine believed Anora possessed original ledgers proving embezzlement.
The plan had not been to kill everyone.
That was Lucian’s defense.
Peter was supposed to create a mechanical failure frightening enough to force the car off the road at low speed.
But the storm, road grade, and speed turned sabotage into catastrophe.
Tamson hated the distinction.
A dead person did not become less dead because a murderer hoped for a smaller collision.
Lucian admitted they followed the Rallo sedan.
After the crash, Sabine searched the wreck.
She found nothing.
When police arrived, she performed the role of horrified family attorney.
Later she discovered Abel’s toxicology was clean.
That created a problem.
If investigators examined the brakes closely, they might connect the vehicle’s recent service to Kersey.
So Sabine constructed another story.
Drunk driver.
Unauthorized trip.
Bad judgment.
A simple tragedy.
Lucian obtained the toxicology attachment before the full report was entered into the Rallo archive.
Sabine sent the false statement to insurance.
Then she did something that made Tamson sit perfectly still in Martin’s office.
“Say that again.”
Martin looked at the transcript.
“Sabine asked Lucian to ensure no Hollis family member gained employment through any Rallo-affiliated company or partner organization.”
Tamson’s hands began trembling.
“Why?”
“Lucian says Sabine was afraid you or Ma Reed would remain close enough to ask questions.”
Tamson laughed without humor.
“So she destroyed our lives because she was afraid we might become inconvenient.”
Evander stood by the window.
His face was pale with anger.
Martin continued.
“She did not control every rejection you experienced. But the Rallo network is large. Once an internal warning circulated describing Hollis relatives as security risks, other people repeated it.”
Tamson thought about every lost job.
Every landlord.
Every clinic.
The employment officer who suggested New Jersey.
A whisper traveling farther than the person who started it.
Exactly as she had suspected.
Ma Reed sat beside Tamson.
She reached over and held her hand.
Martin looked at Evander.
“There’s another problem.”
Evander turned.
“Your name appears on several authorizations Sabine used.”
“I know.”
“Some are legitimate signatures.”
“Yes.”
“You may face exposure.”
Tamson immediately looked at him.
Martin continued.
“Not for the crash. But financial activity, coercive business practices, tax matters. If we open everything, we open everything.”
Evander said, “Open it.”
Tamson stared.
Martin did too.
“You should speak to independent counsel before saying that.”
“I have.”
“And?”
“They told me exactly what you just did.”
“And you’re still saying open it?”
“Yes.”
Tamson stood.
“Can I talk to you?”
Evander followed her into the hall.
“What are you doing?”
“Telling the truth.”
“You could go to prison.”
“Yes.”
“For things unrelated to my family.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you volunteer evidence?”
Evander looked at her.
“Because I cannot demand that Sabine answer for what she hid while hiding what benefits me.”
Tamson stared.
“That is not the same.”
“No.”
“You didn’t sabotage the car.”
“No.”
“You didn’t write the statement.”
“No.”
“But I did other things.”
His voice was quiet.
“I built an organization where people believed protecting me mattered more than telling me the truth.”
Tamson’s anger faded.
Evander continued.
“Sabine did not become Sabine in one night. Lucian did not become Lucian in one night.”
He looked through the glass wall toward Martin.
“I rewarded results. I did not ask how they were achieved if the answer benefited me.”
“That doesn’t make you responsible for murder.”
“No.”
“But it makes me responsible for deciding what I become after learning the truth.”
Tamson looked down.
“You could lose everything.”
Evander gave a faint smile.
“I have learned that phrase means less than people think.”
“What if you lose the house?”
“Then my mother gets a smaller room.”
“She’ll hate that.”
“She’ll complain about oatmeal anywhere.”
Tamson laughed unwillingly.
Evander stepped closer.
“Tamson.”
She looked up.
“I need you to understand something before this becomes uglier.”
“What?”
“I am not doing this for you.”
Her expression changed.
Evander continued quickly.
“Not because you don’t matter.”
Tamson’s breath caught.
“But if I did this only because you asked, then I could resent you later. Or expect something in return.”
He shook his head.
“I’m doing it because I should.”
Tamson stared at him for several seconds.
Then whispered, “That might be the first truly decent thing you’ve said to me.”
“That is a low standard.”
“It is.”
He smiled.
She did too.
Sabine was arrested the next morning.
Fraud.
Obstruction.
Witness intimidation.
Conspiracy.
The homicide-related charges remained under review pending corroboration of Lucian’s testimony.
Cameras gathered outside the courthouse.
For fifteen years, Sabine Lockidge had walked past reporters as the elegant legal shadow beside the Rallo empire.
Now she walked between federal agents.
She saw Evander across the street.
Then Tamson.
Sabine stopped.
A reporter shouted.
“Ms. Lockidge! Did you order the sabotage?”
Another:
“Did you falsify the Hollis report?”
Sabine ignored them.
Her eyes remained on Tamson.
Then she smiled.
It was not defeat.
It was warning.
Tamson felt it.
Evander did too.
That afternoon, Sabine’s attorney released documents to the press.
Rallo financial records.
Contracts.
Photos.
Allegations of extortion.
Everything she had collected over fifteen years.
The story exploded.
EVANDER RALLO UNDER INVESTIGATION.
MAFIA EMPIRE CRACKS FROM WITHIN.
LAWYER CLAIMS RALLO BOSS SACRIFICED HER TO SAVE HIMSELF.
Tamson read the headlines in Anora’s room.
Evander was downstairs with attorneys.
Not Sabine.
New attorneys.
Anora watched television without understanding most of it.
Then Evander appeared on-screen entering federal court.
Anora pointed.
“Vandy.”
“Yes.”
“Bad?”
Tamson turned off the television.
“He has made bad choices.”
Anora frowned.
“Bad man?”
Tamson considered.
“No.”
She did not say good man.
Not yet.
“Trying.”
Anora seemed to understand that word.
“Trying.”
“Yes.”
That evening Evander returned.
No tie.
No jacket.
He looked exhausted.
Anora was sitting on the carpet with Tamson.
Evander stopped at the doorway.
His mother looked at him.
Then patted the carpet beside her.
Evander did not move.
Tamson smiled.
“She means you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you standing there?”
For four years, crossing that threshold had caused panic.
Evander stepped inside.
Anora watched.
One step.
Two.
He sat beside her.
Not touching.
His eyes filled.
Anora looked at him.
Then reached over.
She placed one hand on his sleeve.
Evander closed his eyes.
Tamson turned away to give them privacy.
Anora whispered, “Vandy.”
His voice broke.
“I’m here, Ma.”
She touched his face.
“Sorry.”
Evander shook his head.
“No.”
Anora frowned.
“Sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She pointed to herself.
“Forgot.”
Evander inhaled sharply.
Tamson’s throat tightened.
He took his mother’s hand only after she left it against his face.
“You survived.”
Anora stared.
“You survived,” he repeated. “That was enough.”
She began crying.
So did he.
Tamson quietly left the room.
Evander found her in the hallway ten minutes later.
She stood by the window.
“Thank you.”
Tamson looked over.
“For what?”
“For teaching me how to sit on the floor.”
Her eyes filled.
“You figured out the rest.”
Evander stood beside her.
They looked toward the Hudson.
“Martin says you’re cooperating.”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Are you scared?”
Evander thought.
“Yes.”
It was the first time Tamson heard him admit fear.
She turned fully toward him.
“What happens if prosecutors charge you?”
“I answer.”
“What happens to Anora?”
“She has a trust independent of me.”
“What happens to the house?”
“It may be sold.”
Tamson laughed softly.
“Winifred will finally have fewer bathrooms.”
“She may celebrate.”
Silence.
Then Evander said, “What happens to you?”
Tamson frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“When this is over.”
“I don’t know.”
“You still want nursing school?”
Tamson looked down.
“My mother told me to finish.”
“That was not my question.”
“Yes.”
The answer came quickly.
“Yes. I want it.”
“Then do it.”
“I owe thirty thousand dollars from before.”
Evander opened his mouth.
Tamson held up one finger.
“If you offer to pay—”
“I was going to suggest a restitution claim.”
She stopped.
“Oh.”
“You should sue the companies involved in blacklisting your family.”
Tamson stared.
“You’re telling me to sue you?”
“Technically several entities.”
“That is the least romantic sentence anyone has ever said.”
Evander became still.
Tamson realized what she had said.
So did she.
Neither spoke.
Then Evander’s mouth curved.
“Romantic?”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’m learning not to assume.”
Tamson’s cheeks warmed.
Evander looked at her for a long moment.
Then he stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
“May I?”
The question surprised her.
She knew exactly what he was asking.
Tamson’s heart beat faster.
She thought of the man at the Red Hook table.
The man who took houses.
The man who did not ask.
Then the man who sat on his mother’s carpet because Tamson told him to.
The man who handed prosecutors his own records.
The stranger who left his coat around a grieving twenty-three-year-old woman.
“Yes.”
Evander kissed her.
Slowly.
Carefully.
No urgency.
No ownership.
When they separated, Tamson rested her forehead against his.
“That doesn’t mean I trust you completely.”
“I would be concerned if it did.”
“It doesn’t mean I forgive everything.”
“I know.”
“And if you say yes one more time—”
“Yes.”
Tamson laughed and shoved his shoulder.
Inside Anora’s room, they heard a sound.
Anora laughing too.
For one evening, despite investigations, indictments, and reporters outside the gate, the Rallo house sounded almost like a home.
Then at eleven forty the next morning, Martin Ellis called.
Sabine had asked for a meeting.
Not with prosecutors.
May you like
With Tamson.
And she claimed she could prove that Ruth Hollis had known the crash was coming.
