"No - no way. That's just not possible - "
"That wasn't the first night it happened," I said, cutting him off, being brutal, like I had to be right now. "The torture had been going on for weeks. Kincaid finally figured out what Salina was doing to Eva. That's why he told you he was sick, so he could go back home and catch her in the act. He was trying to protect Eva."
Owen flinched, like I'd just zapped him with a stun gun. I reached over and took his hand, trying to bring him the same comfort he had me earlier.
"It's not your fault," I said. "None of this is your fault. Salina fooled everyone."
"But if what you're saying is true . . ."
His voice trailed off, and he couldn't get the words out. That sick, stricken look filled his face again, and I knew he was thinking of what Eva had suffered.
I squeezed his hand. "I know . . . I know this is a lot to take in."
Owen stared at me, but his eyes were dark and distant, and I could tell that he was lost in his memories. Thinking about various facts, clues from that time that might support - or undermine - what I'd just revealed. "I was so sure Salina was telling the truth. It seemed so obvious at the time. But if she wasn't . . . if what you're saying is true . . . Eva . . . Phillip . . . all these years I've blamed him. . . ."
His voice trailed off, and guilt tightened his features at the thought of what he'd done to Kincaid, of how he'd almost beaten his best friend to death because of Salina's lies.
I let him sit there for a minute, thinking about everything. I would have liked to put my arms around him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but that would have been a lie. The past was done, and we all had to live with the consequences of it. The only thing we could change was the future.
"What if I can prove it to you?" I asked. "One way or the other, who's lying and who's telling the truth. I think I can give you that."
What I hadn't told him was that there was one more person involved in this drama. There had to be. From what I'd seen, Salina had been just as crazy about Owen back then as she was now. She wouldn't have just abandoned him for no reason. No, someone had forced Salina to leave Ashland, and I didn't think it was Kincaid - but I was betting that the casino boss knew exactly who it was.
"How are you going to do that?" Owen finally asked, still staring off into space. "How are you going to give me answers? You weren't even there when it happened."
I squeezed his hand again. "You'll see. But you'll have to trust me. Do you think you can do that?"
After a moment, he focused on me and slowly nodded.
"Good. Then let's get out of here."
"This is a bad idea," Owen muttered. "A really bad idea."
Thirty minutes had passed. Before we'd left the Pork Pit, I'd grabbed a few things I thought I might need from the back of the restaurant and stuffed them into my jeans pockets. Now we stood on the boardwalk in front of the Delta Queen. A sign by the gangplank said the casino wouldn't be opening until tonight, I assumed so every last bit of Antonio could be scrubbed off the main deck.
"Certainly," I agreed. "But we both have questions that only Kincaid can answer. So let's pay him a visit."
Owen hadn't said much on the drive over here, but I could see him thinking back, straining to recall everything that had happened that night. Everything everyone had said and done, all the shouts, accusations, truths, and lies. I didn't know what conclusions he'd drawn, but his face had grown darker and darker as the miles passed, until now, his violet eyes almost glowed with rage and guilt - the first over what Salina had done, the second for not realizing what was going on. But those were emotions that Owen would have to deal with himself. All I could do was be here for him - and squeeze Kincaid until he screamed the truth for the whole world to hear.
"You don't have to go in with me," I said.
Owen shook his head, and a stubborn look filled his face. "No. I don't want you going on board alone. And I need to hear what Phillip has to say for himself. I just . . . I need to."
I nodded, undid the red velvet rope that cordoned off the entrance, and walked up the gangplank with Owen. The main deck had been cleared of all the games, tables, chips, and chairs that had been out here last night. The wood underfoot gleamed like freshly minted gold, and the sharp scent of varnish filled the air. Kincaid certainly hadn't wasted any time shellacking over what had happened last night.
Someone must have spotted us coming up the gangplank through the windows, because we'd only taken a few steps forward when a giant stepped out of the double doors and came over to us, his hands out to his sides.
"Sorry, folks. We're closed until tonight."
I smiled at him. "Not for us. Tell Kincaid that Gin Blanco and Owen Grayson are here to see him."
The giant frowned, as if the names were familiar but couldn't quite be placed. So I decided to jog his memory. I palmed one of my silverstone knives, making sure the giant saw the gleam of the metal in my hand. Then I started casually flipping it end over end, just like I'd done in Kincaid's office last night.
"Is there a problem?" I asked.
The giant stared at my knife. After a moment, he backed up and shook his head. "No problem. No problem at all. I'll tell Mr. Kincaid you're here."
"You do that," I said.
The giant scurried through the double doors and disappeared from sight. He came back less than a minute later and gestured for us to follow him inside. Sometimes it helped to have a reputation as bad as mine.
The giant led us into the main ballroom, where Kincaid sat at a round table in front of the stage, eating a late lunch. The table was covered with fine linens and china, but instead of the lobster and other delicacies I'd expected, Kincaid was chowing down on baby back ribs, grilled sausages, coleslaw, cornbread, and a peach cobbler topped with melting vanilla ice cream. A pitcher of iced tea sat on the table, along with the glass he was drinking out of.
The giant went over and whispered in Kincaid's ear. The casino boss's gaze went to me, then Owen, and he put down his fork. He whispered something back to the giant, who nodded and took up a position several feet behind the table. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. The giant should have put himself in between me and his boss, especially with me still twirling a knife in my hand. Good thing I wasn't here to kill Kincaid. He would have been dead before he got to finish his peach cobbler.
"Ah, visitors," Kincaid drawled, pushing his plates away and pulling the napkin out of the collar of his shirt. "Tell me, to what do I owe this honor?"