But the thing was NFTs could not really be traded for other NFTs or traditional currency. So once you bought one you really could sell it only for crypto. And recently, NFTs had been taking a beating in the news and financial markets because of fraud and hidden fees and the cost of or impossibility of maintaining the article on the Ethereum blockchain, as well as a host of other issues. Gibson wasn’t sure whether the whole market wouldn’t implode at some point, but she didn’t care about that. She just wanted to find the treasure, if it existed.
Okay, here we go.
On blockchains she started searching for ERC-721 tokens, upon which NFTs on Ethereum were based. She had to find some that had been owned by Langhorne and then used to buy one or more NFTs. There were many places to buy NFTs, platforms like OpenSea, Rarible, AtomicMarket, and SuperRare, among others. Hell, apparently even Amazon was thinking about selling them. She worked away, following one trail, which took her to another one. Some ended in dead ends. In fact, all of them did.
Until one did not.
Chapter 75
It took about two hours, but Francine finally found what she thought was the place to which she’d been taken.
A farm was within earshot and she could hear the tractor, approximately the same sound she had heard while being held prisoner.
The dilapidated house was down a curvy, dirt road. It was clearly abandoned, which made sense. Rochelle had always been stingy, even with the proceeds from a diamond haul in the bank. She wouldn’t be shelling out money to rent a safe house to keep Mommy hostage when she could do that for free.
Francine knelt next to a bank of trees and surveyed the place. She didn’t see a car, but it probably was parked in back, just in case anyone came down this far.
She wondered if there was electricity even turned on in the place. If not, there was no way they had an oxygenator in there. They were probably providing her mother’s oxygen needs purely from tanks. She wondered how they had managed that. That cost money, and the place you got it from delivered the tanks. She doubted they would haul oxygen canisters to a place like this.
Had they ripped off the supply from the assisted living center they had taken her from? Rochelle had intimated something like that when she had spoken to a trussed-up Clarisse. That was more in Rochelle’s line. Why pay if you could steal?
But that’s sort of my mantra, too.
She stiffened when he came out of the house.
And she felt her heart grow both soft and sad.
Her tall, handsome brother had not aged well. He looked too thin and bowed, and... just worn out.
Shit. What the hell have you two been doing? But then look at me. I know what I’ve been doing. Leading a life I had to manufacture to forget the other one.
Her brother had always been sensitive and aloof. Her father had called him stupid, inept, useless. And those were the kinder terms the monster had used. That just ground you down, year after year. And now all these years later, here, perhaps, was the result.
He smoked a cigarette, idly flicking the ash away. His hair was thinning and he’d grown a mustache that looked wispy and far too small for his broad face. His clothes were cheap and hung baggy on him. She remembered them together as kids, before their father had revealed his abominable ways. They had loved each other, had fun together, supported each other, eventually forming a little two-person army to keep all the shit at bay.
Too bad the shit won.
She had hoped that he would have found happiness and good health and something altogether better than had been available to him as a member of the Langhorne family.
He didn’t seem to have achieved any of that.
Part of her instinctively wanted to call out to him.
But her brother clearly was not the same person he had been all those years ago.
His life could have turned out so differently, but for Harry Langhorne.
I wouldn’t blame you, Dougie, if you’d killed him.
Now if I could only get you away from Rochelle.
There was a noise from inside the house. Then the door opened and Rochelle joined him. She took a puff off his offered smoke and gazed around. She had on jeans and a hoodie, and was barefoot. Her substantial hip butted up next to Doug’s slim one. She smiled and kissed him.
And he smiled back, and in that smile Francine had to admit that her brother looked like a little boy again. The one she remembered. He looked... happy.
She put a hand in her pocket and felt for the gun there. This could turn out fabulously. Or this could be the worst day of her life, and that would be saying something. She drew a deep breath and transformed herself into what she knew she could be when the need arose: commanding, confident, and courageous. Like she had been with Nathan Trask, conning him and his people just enough to allow her to survive. To allow her to win.
She stepped out into the open. “Lovely spring day, isn’t it? And how is Mommy doing? Spry and spirited?”
Rochelle took a step forward, putting herself between brother and sister.
“Oh, like I would ever hurt my brother? But you shouldn’t give me such a tempting target, Rochelle.”
Francine looked past Rochelle, and her tough facade faded for a moment. “I would never hurt you, Dougie. Never. For so long we were all each other had.”
Francine wasn’t sure if he reacted to this, though he did drop and grind out his smoke.
He nodded at her, she supposed, in hello. Her brother had never been loquacious.
“How did you find us?” asked Rochelle. “I turned off your phone.”
Francine walked closer. “Never reveal sources and methods. And is my swagger still there?”
Rochelle pointed to the gun. “What’s that for?”
“You brought a gun last time. Only fair that I have one. So, how is Mommy?”
“The same as when you were here before,” said Rochelle. “And you better hurry up and find the money because I can’t deal with the woman much longer.”
“Is there electricity in there? Otherwise, how are you managing the oxygen?”
“We rigged it off a feeder line. At least Dougie did. He’s real good with stuff like that. And we got an oxygenator.”
“Where?”
Rochelle’s mouth curved to a grin. “Sources and methods.”
Francine glanced at her brother. “Did Mom recognize you?”
He shook his head and looked off.
“I’m sorry.”
He glanced back at her. “Why?” His voice was husky and dull and unfamiliar.
She drew closer, pointing the gun to the dirt. “Because she’s our mother. In spite of all the shit.”
“Forgive and forget?” said Rochelle in a sneering way.
“Neither. But we can move forward.”
“Maybe you can. That shit messed us up but good,” said Rochelle. “Just treading water now. Probably forever.”
“And you think I’m the picture of perfect mental health?” said Francine.
“I don’t know. Are you trying to be?”
“All I try and do is get out of bed every day.”
“Us too,” said Doug. He added quietly, again looking off, “Us too, really.”
“And Bruce?” asked Francine.
Her brother glanced nervously at Rochelle. “I did it,” he said.
“Why?”
Doug once more glanced at Rochelle and shrugged. His gaze fixed on his shoes.
“You didn’t know Bruce like I did,” said Rochelle.