“We aren’t one hundred percent sure,” Izzy begins, “but—”
“What the hell!” Grace yells. “If you don’t have any answers for us, why are we here?” The rest of the group chimes in with their own grumbles but another whistle from Hurley silences them.
“I do have an answer for you,” Izzy says. “Just not the one you think.”
I expect more grumbling, but to my surprise, they all remain quiet, waiting.
Izzy opens the folder in front of him and takes out a stack of stapled papers. He doles out one of the stapled packets to each family member in the room, sliding them across the sleek surface of the table.
“As you can see,” Izzy begins, “the papers in front of you are copies of two wills and testaments. The originals are currently tagged as evidence and in the hands of an attorney. We found these wills inside a briefcase that was in your parents’ car.”
Aaron and the women start reading, flipping the pages as they go, their faces taking on disbelieving expressions. Easton, however, tries in vain to focus on the first page and then tosses his packet aside.
“We don’t need to read any goddamned wills,” Easton slurs. “We all have copies already.”
“Not of this one,” Izzy says. “If you’ll look at the last page, you’ll see that they were drafted, signed, and witnessed the day before your parents disappeared.”
Aaron flips a page and starts to chuckle.
Grace flips a page and mutters, “What the fuck?”
Katrina stares at her packet and says, “How could they do this?”
Tom remains silent and keeps reading; Sarah looks up at Izzy and says, “Are you sure this is for real?”
Izzy nods. “We found the lawyer who drafted the wills as well as the witnesses who signed them. They verified both documents.”
Easton, clearly curious now that he’s seen his siblings’ reactions, snatches his packet back and tries once again to bring the words into focus. He doesn’t appear to be having much luck so Izzy summarizes for him.
“So, as I’m sure you can all see, it doesn’t matter which of your parents died first because the outcome is the same either way. All of their money is going to a select group of charities.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Easton screams. “No fucking way.”
Aaron tries to placate his brother by placing a hand on his arm. “I’m afraid it’s true, bro,” he says calmly. “They’ve cut us all out.”
“Fucking sonofabitch!” Easton yells, pounding a fist on the table.
Grace sets her packet of papers down, glares across the table at Sarah, and in a scarily calm and quiet voice, says, “This is all your fault, you fucking bitch.”
“My fault?” Sarah comes back. “If you and your siblings hadn’t been so goddamned lazy and greedy, maybe our folks wouldn’t have felt the need to do this.”
“Greedy?” Grace shrieks. “I’ll give you greedy, bitch!” With that, Grace flings herself across the table and smashes into Sarah head first. Sarah yelps, grabs a chunk of Grace’s hair, and screams, “Get off me, you crazy bitch!” Grace manages to grab Sarah by the throat and at that point Tom joins in and starts trying to pry Grace’s hands loose. That sets Katrina off, who mimics her sister’s maneuver by flying across the table and trying to gouge Tom’s eyes out. Easton, who I’m now convinced is not only a lush but several Froot Loops shy of a full bowl, stands up, rips his shirt open, and dives across the table into Tom.
Seconds later, the room is utter chaos, with Hurley, Junior, and Larry joining the fray. Izzy and I hop out of our chairs and pin our backs to the wall behind us, huddling in the corner farthest from the melee. Across the room I see Aaron slide along his wall and then slip out of the room altogether.
I hear fabric ripping, people screeching, and the sickening sounds of flesh and bone crunching together. At one point blood flies and hits the side wall but I can’t tell whose it is. One of the chairs gets broken and the table is slowly pushed all the way to the other side of the room.
“Well, that went well, wouldn’t you say?” Izzy says to me as we stand watching. He grabs a nearby chair and positions it in front of us like a barricade.
“Thank goodness you had Junior and Larry here.”
Izzy nods. “Think we can get past them to the door?” he says as somebody’s purse flies across the room and hits the wall beside us.
I shake my head and watch as Tom Conklin takes a swing at Easton, who either ducks or falls, allowing Tom’s fist to connect with Junior’s face instead. “Too risky,” I say, grimacing as Junior staggers sideways.
Oddly enough, the Heinrich and Conklin clans seem to be pulling together for a change, ganging up on Hurley and the other two cops. It’s not looking too good for our side when the door to the library crashes open and an unbelievable sight appears.
There, filling the entire doorway, is a behemoth of a man wearing a Lone Ranger–type mask. His feet are encased in red boots and his body is outfitted in tight, red spandex: body suit, tights, and cape. He stands there with his legs spread apart, his fists on his hips, and his arms cocked wide. On his puffed-out chest is printed a giant, yellow, capital letter H for Hacker Man. As odd as this apparition is, it’s one I’ve seen before. Beneath that superhero costume is Joey Dewhurst, the computer savant who saved my life once before.
The sight of him now worries me more than it reassures me. Despite his intimidating presence, Joey is a big softy and I’m afraid he’s going to get hurt. He steps into the room and grabs for the person closest to him, which happens to be Easton. Joey, who probably outweighs Easton by a good two hundred pounds, easily pulls his quarry aside. Easton whirls around angrily, ready to throw a punch, but he freezes, staring at Joey with a look of horror on his face. And then he screams like a little girl.
“Get it off of me!” he screeches. “Oh my God, oh my God! Make it go away!” With that, Easton collapses and starts to sob. This spectacle is enough to distract the others in the room, who glance over to see what’s going on and then freeze where they are, stunned into submission. I can’t say I blame them; Joey the superhero is a rather incredulous sight.
“What the hell is that?” Tom Conklin asks, his eyes wide with fright.
Since Hurley and the other cops know Joey and his predilection for costumes, they aren’t as riveted as the rest of the group. As a result, they are finally able to gain the upper hand and cuff Tom, Sarah, and the two Heinrich sisters.
That leaves Easton, who is lying on the floor at Joey’s feet, still sobbing. He appears to have wet himself, and once Larry and Junior realize that, they look at each other, sigh, and do a quick game of rock-paper-scissors. Junior wins and a reluctant Larry carefully approaches Easton and zip-ties his hands behind his back.
By now, I can see there are other people lurking in the hallway just beyond the doorway to the room: Arnie and Aaron Heinrich. I hear Arnie tell Larry, “Yeah, Joey and I were just coming back from lunch and we ran into this guy out front.” He gestures toward Aaron. “He told us about the meeting in here, and when we heard the commotion going on beyond the door, Joey went into hero mode, stripped off his regular clothes, and made his entrance.”
With everyone in the room secure, Hurley makes his way over to me and Izzy. His hair is attractively mussed, one sleeve is torn nearly off, revealing a sexy shoulder beneath, and his lower lip has a small cut on it.
“You guys okay?” he asks.
“We’re fine,” I say. “But you look a little the worse for wear.” I reach up and gingerly dab at a drip of blood on his lip. And as soon as my finger touches that soft flesh, I remember how those lips felt against mine. I feel myself growing hot and quickly pull away.