Nick took another hallway, searching for somewhere a bit quieter.
'We've been watching,' Christine said. 'It's hard to imagine. I can't even pretend to know what it must be like to be there in the middle of it.'
He found a small, empty room off the elevators and ducked inside. Stacked, dirty coffee cups filled a table. Folding chairs were left in no particular pattern. Nick sat down in one against the wall.
'The director of security and I were just getting our asses chewed by a couple of the owners of the mall.'
'You're kidding. What did they think could have been done?'
Nick heard the interest in Christine's voice and immediately hoped he wasn't sorry he had told her that.
'It's kind of late,' he said, glancing at his watch and wanting to prevent any follow-up questions. 'Is everything okay?'
'I didn't want to add to your stress, but I knew you'd want us to call you.' He didn't like the change in her voice. 'We had to have Dad taken by ambulance to Lakeside Hospital's emergency room.'
Nick shot out of the chair, gripping the phone tight against his ear.
'Is he okay?' He found himself bracing one hand against the wall.
'They've got him stabilized.'
'What happened?'
'Mom noticed his breathing was more?I guess raspy. That's how she described it.' There was a long pause. 'Nick, I don't think she's gonna be able to take care of him from here on out. It's getting harder and harder.'
He needed to sit back down. Found the chair again.
'Okay,' he offered as his best gesture of agreement. 'What are you thinking?'
He'd never been in on these conversations. It had always been Christine and his mom making the decisions regarding his dad's care. He had been off in Boston, 1300 miles away, up until several months ago when he moved back to Omaha. Now he realized how lucky he had been all those years, and he couldn't help but wonder why Christine decided to foist this on him this time?
That wasn't fair. He knew that wasn't fair. But he was exhausted, overwhelmed and 400 miles from home. What could he do about it?
'You know she won't agree to moving him anywhere outside of home,' Christine said. 'But she's being stubborn about having some outside help. She keeps saying Dad doesn't want some stranger helping him pee. It's ridiculous.'
He glanced around the room. He wanted to ask her why all of this needed to be decided right now? He was safe, stabilized, she had told him. Christine was always worrying about things before they happened.
'How long will they keep him in the hospital?'
'His doctor wants to run some tests. Probably through the weekend.'
'Can we talk about it when I get home?'
Silence. Had it been the wrong thing to say?
'Sure, that's fine,' she finally said.
Nick recognized that tone. It meant waiting was anything but fine. Passive aggressive. Wasn't that what they called it. Both of them had the symptoms. Number one on the list was 'hates confrontation.'
'It's just that I'm a little overwhelmed right this minute,' he tried to explain and knew it sounded lame as soon as it escaped his mouth.
'I just wanted to talk to you about it, Nick.' She was upset but doing her best to keep it from her voice. 'I'm fully aware that when it comes time to actually fix it, that I'll be the one doing it by myself.'
He didn't know what to say. He felt like she had slugged him in the gut. He felt like an asshole.
'I've gotta go,' she said and he heard the click before he could respond.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He wasn't good at this family stuff. That's why they'd never asked him before. But if Christine knew that, why was she expecting something different from him? Why now?
CHAPTER 54
Maggie tried not to interrupt Henry Lee. She refrained from crossing her arms or any other nonverbal gestures that might stop him. Her psychology background had taught her to listen without giving any indication of prejudice. Sometimes an impassive listener gathered more valuable information than a seasoned interrogator. Human nature dictated certain behaviors, like filling in long silences or attempting to please a receptive listener.
'My daughter, Dixon's mother, was one of the 168 people who were murdered on April 19, 1995. Four thousand eight hundred pounds of ammonium nitrate and jet fuel driven right up to the front of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City.'
There was still enough emotion to cause the blue eyes to go watery, again. He took an irritated swipe at them and continued, 'I didn't believe it could happen. Thought we'd never allow it again. But we Americans have short attention spans. We become complacent. Six years later, 9/11.'
He sat back, sat forward, couldn't get comfortable. Didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.
Maggie waited out his silence and his fidgeting.
'We've become complacent again,' he told her. 'This was meant to be a wake-up call. This administration keeps tearing down our policies on terror, weakening our security systems. They're leaving us vulnerable for another attack. And mark my word, there will be another attack.' The anger was creeping back into his voice.
'It'll be some major sporting event or in one of our shopping centers or an airport. They've broken down the barriers we worked so hard to build. Closing down Gitmo. It's crazy. Treating those monsters to three square meals while all they want to do is get back out there and slaughter innocent Americans.'
'Thirty-two innocent Americans were killed today.' She couldn't help it. She didn't want to listen to his diatribe and let him believe her silence might excuse, condone or possibly understand it.
'Dear God, thirty-two?' He covered his face with trembling hands. 'That wasn't supposed to happen,' he said through his fingers as they rubbed at his disbelief. 'I swear to you, that wasn't supposed to happen.'
'What exactly was supposed to happen, Mr. Lee?'
'A disruption. That's all.' He shook his head and sat forward, hands wringing. 'Our group?and it's an influential group of high-level, upstanding individuals?'
'Citizens for American Pride?'
He let out a breath, something that sounded between a snort and a chuckle.
'CAP? It's a smokescreen, a distraction. That organization has nothing to do with this.'
'Then I don't understand, what group are you talking about?'
'No one knows about us. We've managed to keep it secret for almost fifteen years. We've influenced business contracts?billions of dollars?making sure that American companies are awarded. We've manipulated government policy. Nothing different than what lobbyists do, only we have members who are?let's just say, a bit closer to actually making government policy.'
'Are you saying members of Congress are a part of this secret group?'
He shrugged and she knew he was monitoring what he told her, perhaps deciding as he went along.
'We're not thugs,' he said. 'That's all I'm saying. Sometimes our methods may have seemed a bit unconventional. We did what we felt was necessary to influence, to persuade, to keep America on track. Yes, we pushed the envelope. But no innocent lives were lost. I promise you that.'
Now he glanced around the room as if checking to see if it was, indeed, secure. 'This was meant as a wake- up. The devices?electronic jamming devices?were supposed to be in those backpacks. They were designed specifically to disrupt computer and satellite feeds. I helped create them myself. It was supposed to be a virtual electronic blackout, appropriately timed to occur on what the retail world calls 'Black Friday.' A day of substantial profits would be turned upside down to show how easily a terrorist could walk in and do the same, maybe worse.'
'You certainly proved the worse part.'
Maggie bit down on her lower lip. Calm, steady, impassive?she could do this without injecting emotion. She kept from balling her hands into fists, willed her feet to stay planted when she wanted to pace.
