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by being such a pathetic gambler?” Val shot back. “Or that you keep bundles of cash around for tipping strippers?” He stared at Polly. “Don’t believe a word out of his mouth, Polly. He’s lying because he wants to see you cry. He loves messing with people’s heads.”

“Actually, Val, what I love is money.” Amberson gave Val a withering look. “You’re the one who plays creepy mind games. When I gave you the money to hire a girlfriend for Tom Klepper, I didn’t expect you to prostitute your own sister.”

“I didn’t—”

“Oh, please. Tom was such an easy mark. I took him out for the occasional lunch at the Harvard Club and had him eating out of the palm of my hand. It was that simple. All you had to do was find a girl for Tom, and make sure she got her picture taken cuddling up with Gary. Did you really need to pimp poor Polly for that? Being completely honest, that made me think less of you.”

“Yeah, well, let’s really be honest. Why don’t you tell everyone why you killed off that whole rich Lytton-Jones family?”

“I didn’t kill them all.” Amberson rolled his eyes. “Byron didn’t need help killing himself with drugs.”

“He’s been controlling their family fortune for years.” Val’s voice boomed. “But he’s used up so much of it on his gambling addiction and on whores that there’s almost nothing left! It’s a house of cards. That’s the real reason he had to kill Gary Cowan. It’s because Gary was poking around in the family finances.” Val turned and looked at Desmond. “You know what he called your sister? ‘Collateral damage that would add to the ambience.’ That’s a quote.”

“Well, Dominique was a win-win situation. If she’d gotten what we needed from Gary, we could have squashed him like a cockroach, without anyone dying in suspicious circumstances. But she kept stalling, and Gary came up with his masterly kidnapping plan. It was too irresistible an opportunity to pass up.”

“You think you can manipulate anyone,” Val said. “You’re always talking about how everyone has their weakness, and all you have to do is find it. You’re the twisted one who screws with people’s heads.”

Amberson kept his composure. “Really, Val? Being criticized by a man who murdered his own brother in a fit of jealousy is a bit much.” He turned to Polly. “You must remember that Val was always jealous of Max. Val was always in trouble, and Max was the golden child. Straight-A student, star athlete, and actually a surprisingly sweet boy.”

“Yes, I remember,” Polly whispered.

“It was the acceptance to Harvard that did it, I think,” Amberson said. “That pushed Val over the edge.”

“You’re a liar. Polly isn’t stupid enough to believe you,” Val seethed. “Shut up now.”

“Or you’ll do what?” Amberson asked. “You forget, I have all the evidence I need tucked away. If anything happens to me, your life is over. You’re my helper monkey, Val. I know where Max’s body is buried.” He chuckled. “Imagine, murdering your brother over his admission to Harvard.” He shook his head. “That’s rather pathetic, don’t you think?”

“That wasn’t why Val did it,” Polly whispered. Blood was roaring in her ears, and all of those terrible dreams she used to have came crashing in on her like a tsunami.

“No?” That got Amberson’s full attention. “That’s what I always thought, my dear. What happened?”

There was a panicked expression on Val’s face. All those years. All those lies. Still, Polly’s memory was buried underneath, like a shipwreck at the floor of the ocean. “Max came into my room when Val was… when he was…” She choked on the words she couldn’t say. She locked eyes with Val and realized she had never hated anyone in the world but him. He was her torturer, her jailer, her drug dealer. But she couldn’t express herself and tears started to trickle down her face.

“You poor thing,” Amberson said. “Why don’t you sit down, Polly?”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Desmond said. “Max’s DNA is in a database of missing children. You can’t fake that.”

“Come on, Val, why don’t you explain how your DNA was mistaken for Max’s. That’s a fun story.” Amberson turned to Polly. “Val was so jealous of Max, you see, that he stole a T-shirt Max got on his Harvard visit. A T-shirt! Can you imagine the pettiness?”

“Yes,” Polly whispered, remembering Val coming into her room. At first, she’d thought it was Max, because he was wearing that crimson T-shirt with the big logo in the center. But it was Val, who’d snuck into her room before when he thought everyone else was sleeping. I don’t want to play, she told him, but Val had forced her, as he always did. Then Max came in and pulled him off her, and the two had started fighting. Let’s take this outside, Val said, and the two of them disappeared downstairs. She waited and listened, but Max never came back. Deep down, she’d believed it was her fault that he left.

“Val was stupid,” Polly whispered. Val stared at her with frozen fury. “He didn’t even realize his own blood was on the shirt, and he threw it in the hamper.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Desmond throw himself toward Val, grabbing for the gun. And then the pistol went off with a boom that made her jump.

Chapter 57

Everything was still for a second after the gun went off. Val and Desmond faced each other, both breathing hard. They didn’t even turn to regard the attorney sliding down the doorjamb, his eyes wide and his mouth open in a small, curious O.

As Amberson hit the ground, his torso crumpled forward. Polly saw the bullet wound on the back of his head. It was just red pulp with tufts of hair sticking out now. That single bullet had sheared off a chunk of his skull.

Desmond roared as he wrestled the gun out of Val’s hands. He took a step back. “Don’t make

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