Transparency by Charles Royce (children's books read aloud txt) 📕

“We don’t have hard proof, at least we don’t think we do.” Josh answers. “But I’ll get to that too.”

“The part about Billy Donovan is based on information we’ve pieced together these last few months while you were at Micah’s trial,” Jenna says, her French accent a little more subdued than normal. “Tracy is my ex-roommate. She lives in the building Billy ducked into before he shot Walter Gordon in the middle of Union Square. Tracy saw him on the steps of her building that night, thought he was cute. Until she saw what looked like a gun sticking out of his jacket.”

“But how does she know his name?” Shawn asks. He’s a little more frustrated with each new detail.

“A few weeks later, she saw him at the office,” Jenna says. “Picked up his name off a sign-in sheet. Told me and Josh his name shortly after. Helped us piece together yet another part of the company involvement.”

“Company involvement,” Shawn says. “That’s just what Haylee said.”

“Smart woman.”

“When did you learn about Tracy seeing Billy Donovan at Walter Gordon’s crime scene?” Shawn asks. “The same night that Lenny was killed?”

“Yes. Tracy and I talked that night, then some more on Saturday. I spent the night with her, since we both were in shock. Saturday night, I had to leave for my nanny gig, but Tracy stayed in her apartment. She was devastated, missed a lot of work the following week.”

“Was this conversation before or after you called me about Micah being hauled away by the cops?” Shawn asks.

“After.”

“Jenna, please tell me everything.” Shawn breathes a sigh of relief that he doesn’t have to sit through Josh’s ramblings this time around.

“Okay, well—”

“Wait.” Shawn remembers that sometimes Jenna can be worse than Josh. “CliffsNotes, please, Jenna. CliffsNotes.”

“I’ll try,” she says. “Bear with me.”

“God,” Shawn says. “You people and your flashbacks.”

Jenna begins …

C h a p t e r   1 3

I TOOK A deep breath. What was happening?

Less than two hours after hearing Tracy’s ordeal over the phone, I was frozen again. I’d just seen my friend Micah, husband to my ex-boss, covered in blood, being carted away by police escorts. Micah had yelled at me to call Shawn.

I pulled out my iPhone and stared into it. My drunken, droopy face caused a delay in the facial recognition.

“Call Shawn Connelly.”

((Calling Shawn Connelly))

“Jenna?”

“Shawn! Thank God!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think Micah’s just been arrested.” It came out more like Micah shudgebin arrested.

“What?”

“I was coming home from the event and saw a lot of police cars around Lennox and Micah’s building. I walked a little closer and saw Micah coming out the front of the building. They shoved him in a car. He was covered in blood, Shawn.”

“Dear God. What happened?”

“I think something happened to Lennox. Something horrible.” My words were still a bit slurry. “Micah asked me to call you.”

“Do you know where they were headed?”

“What?”

“The police car, Jenna: which direction were they headed? Never mind, I’ll figure it out.”

“Hurry, please!”

“Don’t worry, Jenna. I got this. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath, hung up the phone, shoved it back in my Chanel clutch. I looked around at the mayhem that had taken over her block. A cold chill enveloped me, sobering me up in an instant. I put down my purse and took the overcoat that had been draped over my shoulders and put it on.

I clomped my way to my condo building, just steps away from where I’d seen Micah being hauled away. I thought of Lennox and what could have happened to him. I started weeping, mascara running in black rivulets down my cheeks. I took out my phone and called Tracy.

SITTING ON TRACY’S couch, Tracy and I stared at the breaking news on Channel One. We consoled each other as the news kept releasing updates.

Breaking news, Lennox Holcomb, vice president of finance at Élan International, has been brutally killed in his lower Manhattan residence.

Lennox Holcomb’s husband, Micah Breuer, has been retained for questioning.

This just in. Sources say that Lennox Holcomb was stabbed over thirty times. Breuer is the main suspect. We will keep you updated.

“Dear God.” I was waffling between anger and devastation. “Who would do such a thing?”

Tracy was comforting me as best she could while dealing with her own trauma. “I’m not sure what’s happening.”

We turned our attention back to the news:

A second murder has just been reported in Union Square, an unknown man in his sixties shot and killed. We’ll update you as more details become available.

The victim in tonight’s shooting in Union Square was Walter Gordon, a consultant for Élan International, making this tragedy the second murder of Élan associates reported this evening.

Walter Gordon’s bodyguard was a witness to the murder. Our correspondent speaks to him now.

“I saw the guy,” the bodyguard says. “Dark trench coat; we’d been tracking him for a couple blocks. Until he ducked out of sight. Never got a look at his face. Before I knew it, Mr. Gordon was bleeding out on the street. No gunshot, no other witnesses, no nothing. Professional. All the hallmarks of a hit.”

Tracy and I turned to each other.

“I think I saw him,” Tracy said.

“Who?”

“The shooter.”

“When?”

“Before Walter was shot,” she said. “As I was leaving for the party. I was barreling down the stairs, nearly tripped over him at the bottom. I apologized, he smiled.”

“You saw his face?”

“White guy, kinda cute,” Tracy said. “Gave me the creeps, though; didn’t know why he was just sitting there. Then I saw something peeking out of his jacket. Looked like some sort of gun part, like the tip of a silencer maybe.”

C h a p t e r   1 4

SHAWN KNOCKS ON the two-way mirror. Less than ten seconds later, the detective walks into the holding room.

“You banged?” Detective Penance asks.

Shawn walks toward him. “Did you know there was another witness in the Union Square murder?”

“You talking about Tracy Heissman?”

Shawn turns to Jenna.

Jenna nods. “Yes, that’s her full name.”

“Pretty girl, model?” the