“Your generation and its fucking homophobia.”
Paula snorted again. “Christ, if I’d known all it took to make your balls drop was to shoot you, I would’ve done you the favor back in Austin.”
Andy closed her eyes for a second. She hated this brutal back and forth. “What’s in the papers? Why are they so important?”
“Fraud.” Paula raised her eyebrows, waiting for Andy to react. “Queller Healthcare was kicking patients out on the street, but still billing the state for their care.”
Andy waited for more, but apparently, that was it. She asked, “And...?”
“What do you mean, and...?”
“I could go online right now and find dozens of videos showing poor people being kicked out of hospitals.” Andy shrugged. “The hospitals just apologize and pay a fine. Sometimes they don’t even do that. Nobody loses their job, except maybe the security guard who was following orders.”
Paula was clearly thrown by her nonchalance. “It’s still a crime.”
“Okay.”
“Do you ever watch the news or read a paper? Jasper Queller wants to be president.”
Andy wasn’t so sure that a fraud conviction would stop him. Paula was still fighting by 1980s rules, before spin doctors and crisis management teams had become part of the vernacular. All Jasper would have to do was go on an apology tour, cry a little, and he’d be more popular than before it all started.
Paula crossed her arms. She had a smug look on her face. “Trust me, Jasper will crumble at the first whiff of scandal. All he cares about is the Queller family reputation. We’ll work him like a marionette.”
Andy had to be missing something. She tried to work it out. “You saw my mom on TV. You hired a guy to torture her for the location of these documents, and now you’re holding me ransom for them because you’re going to blackmail Jasper into being silent so Clayton—Nick—will be paroled?”
“It’s not rocket science, kid.”
It wasn’t even model rocket science.
How had her mother fallen in with these idiots?
Paula said, “I’ve got everything ready for Nick when he gets out. We’ll get some art for the walls, find the right furniture. Nick has such a great eye. I wouldn’t presume to choose those things without him.”
Andy remembered the institutional blandness inside of Paula’s house. Twenty years in prison, at least a decade on the outside, and she was still waiting for Clayton Morrow to tell her what to do.
She asked, “Did Nick put you up to this?” She remembered something Paula had said. “That’s why you haven’t killed me, right? Because I’m his daughter.”
She grinned. “I guess you’re not as stupid as you look.”
Andy heard a cell phone vibrating.
Paula searched the bags and found the broken burner phone. She winked at Andy before answering. “What is it, Dumb Bitch?” Her eyebrows went up. “Porter Motel. I know you’re familiar. Room 310.”
Andy watched her close the phone. “She’s on her way?”
“She’s here. Guess she used some of those Queller billions to charter a flight.” Paula stood up. She adjusted the gun in her waistband. “We’re in Valparaiso, Indiana. I figured you’d want to see where you were born.”
Andy had already chewed her tongue raw. She started on her cheek.
“Dumb Bitch was too good to be thrown into the general prison population. Edwin wrangled her a stay in the Porter County jail. She was in solitary the whole time, but so fucking what? Beats worrying some bitch is gonna shiv you in the back because you said her ass was big.”
Andy’s brain couldn’t handle all the information at once. She said, “What about—”
Paula took off her scarf and shoved it deep into Andy’s mouth.
“Sorry, kid, but I can’t be distracted by your bullshit.” She got on her knees and released the handcuff from the base of the table. “Put your right arm underneath.”
Andy stretched both arms toward the base, and Paula ratcheted down the cuffs.