Chapter 11 - NO MORE BASEMENT
Belle refused Renick’s offer to buy her a house.
He made it badly.
“I can put you somewhere secure.”
“I have somewhere.”
“Someone shot it.”
“That is not a normal real-estate argument.”
Renick rubbed his forehead.
“Fine.”
“Stop saying fine when you mean impossible.”
He stared.
“You’re exhausting.”
“Good.”
She accepted temporary housing through a federal witness program instead.
Paperwork.
Rules.
No debt to Renick.
That mattered.
Micah hated the new apartment because the bedroom window faced a wall.
Brinley loved it because the wall had pigeons.
Renick visited twice a week.
Always with security downstairs.
Never unannounced.
He learned to knock.
That was more impressive than it should have been.
One evening, Micah asked.
“Are you a mafia boss?”
Belle choked on soup.
Renick put down his spoon.
“That depends who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.”
Belle closed her eyes.
Renick thought.
“My family ran illegal businesses.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Micah stared.
“Like stealing cars?”
“No.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Then boring illegal?”
Renick almost laughed.
“Mostly money.”
Micah nodded.
“Boring.”
Brinley giggled.
Belle watched Renick.
He did not sanitize it.
He also did not glorify it.
Maybe Maeve’s message was working.
Then the federal case against Sebastian hit a problem.
The original ledger was missing.
Thomas’s copy helped.
But defense lawyers attacked authenticity.
Declan said Maeve hid the original before her death.
Only Brinley might know where.
Nobody wanted to ask her.
Then Brinley asked Belle for her purple coat.
“What purple coat?”
“Mommy’s.”
Renick looked up.
Maeve’s clothes had been boxed after the funeral.
Brinley had refused to let anyone throw away one purple winter coat.
It sat in storage.
Inside the lining, Belle felt something hard.
She cut three stitches.
A tiny brass key fell into her palm.
Micah picked it up.
“Looks like a bird-cage key.”
Brinley whispered.
“Not bird.”
Then she looked at her father.
May you like
“Train station.”
