“I made mistakes,” George said. “I admit it. I’m human. But you’ve been holding onto those mistakes for years. You’ve been carrying a grudge ever since you were a kid. Can you honestly say that you’ve given me a chance?”
“Yes,” Leana said without hesitation. “Yes, I can say that.”
“Then I guess you’re a better person than I am,” George said. “Congratulations.”
He started to walk away again.
But Leana went after him.
“It’s so easy for you,” she said. “Build your buildings. Take over your corporations. Live your big life. Be that big dream. But what I see is a pathetic excuse of a man who has so lost control of himself and what matters in life that my sister is dead because of it.”
That stopped him.
“It’s true,” she said. “Those spotlights exploded weeks ago. Why didn’t you protect your family when someone obviously has it in for us. Someone you probably pissed off. You think they’ll be coming after me and Mom because of something we did? Get real. When we’re dead, it’ll be because of something you did, not us. You’ve got blood on your hands now, and you’ll have blood on your hands then.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Tell that to Celina.”
“I’ve been in touch with the police daily about those spotlights.”
“You should have been up their ass hourly. You should have been on the phone to the major. You should have called your friend the governor. Tell that to Celina, too. You’re partly responsible for all of this. You failed to keep your family safe. You suck as a father. You’re not the man you think you are. You’re just some schmuck who got lucky years ago, made his fortune, collected the rewards that came with it and the luck kept rolling until it stopped with my sister’s death. You’re the murderer here. You’re a piece of shit and it’s time someone told you so to your face.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” George said.
“If you think I’m leaving my mother alone with you, you’re crazy. You’re unstable. You get the fuck out.”
George looked at Elizabeth, saw the pain on her face and the defeat in her eyes, and then he also noted something else-she was siding with Leana. He stepped alone into the elevator-only dimly aware of the press, who were still leaning against the windows-and pressed a button. The doors closed. He was gone.
In his study, Michael Archer watched his mother move across the living room to pick up her son, watched her collapse with him on the damask sofa, watched her throw back her head and laugh when he tickled her ribs.
No sound came from her mouth. But her eyes were shining.
He picked up the remote, pointed it at the television, zoomed in and froze on her face. She looked happy. He held the shot for a few seconds, then pressed a button and faded into the next clip.
Michael leaned toward the television and tried to remember the lost scenes of his childhood as they unfolded before him.
Anne Ryan stood on tip-toe as she placed a large tinfoil star on top of a Christmas tree decorated with strings of popcorn, twinkling lights, frosted glass balls. When the star was in place, she stepped back and smiled at her handiwork. She turned toward the camera, curtsied, then made a face and pointed across the room.
The camera whirled and swept across a small apartment that was neat, festive and filled with people. His father was sitting in an antique rocking chair, cuddling an infant in the crook of his arm. Louis kissed the child on the forehead, brushed its cheek with the back of his hand.
Michael lifted the receiver to his ear. “How did you get these films onto DVD?” he asked his father, who had called moments before. Louis had asked Michael to go to his study and look in the drawer beneath the television. There, Michael found a DVD player and a stack of DVDs.
“They were brought to a man on Third Avenue,” Louis said. “He takes old home movie footage and puts it onto DVD.” There was a beat of silence. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Why isn’t there any sound?”
“Your grandfather shot everything. He used his camera.”
Michael watched his mother. She was now wearing a long, flowing white dress and holding a stuffed Easter bunny in front of her son. He watched himself giggle, watched himself grin.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I want you to remember your mother as she was. It’s been a long time, Michael. You’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Michael said. I haven’t.
The line went dead.
When the phone rang thirty minutes later, Michael was viewing the final DVD. Feeling drained and exhausted, he paused the frame and reached for the telephone, thinking it was his father.
It wasn’t.
For the next several moments, Michael listened quietly to the man who gave him the loan in Vegas. He listened to him threaten, he listened to him shout.
“I understand in a few days your father’s going to ask a favor of you,” the man said. “For your sake, you better do it, Michael. Because if you don’t, if you decide not to kill Redman, your father won’t give us the final payment-and then Mr. Santiago will be asking me to do a favor for him.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“How are you this morning?”
Diana turned from the window she was standing at and looked across the small living room at Jack Douglas. He was standing in the arched doorway, holding two cups of coffee and wearing a faded blue bathrobe that was spotted with purplish bleach stains and frayed at the sleeves.
Diana shrugged. “I’m all right,” she said. “Considering.”
Jack nodded-he knew.
His eyes puffy from lack of sleep, his hair tousled, he moved to the center of the room and sat at one end of a sofa. “I made coffee,” he said. “Want a cup?”
Diana said she would love a cup. As she crossed the room, it occurred to her how strange it was that they were here together, comforting each another in his apartment. Yesterday, after the police left with Eric, Jack went upstairs to her bedroom, packed her an overnight bag and told her to come home with him.
Diana didn’t want to be alone in her apartment. She was grateful for his kindness and agreed. Now, as she sat beside Jack, she wondered again how anyone involved in the takeover of WestTex Incorporated would get through these next few days without losing whatever sanity they somehow had managed to keep.
Jack handed her one of the steaming mugs. “That was Harold on the phone a few minutes ago,” he said. “He and the board have been caucusing with WestTex and Chase since last night. Frostman has been key to moving things forward. The paperwork’s nearly finished. Chase has cut us a deal. Everything’s a go.”
“Then we leave tomorrow afternoon for Iran?”
Jack nodded, relieved that Celina’s funeral was scheduled for early morning, hours before he, Diana and Harold would have to board Redman International’s private Lear to London, then on to Iran.
“It’s a long flight,” he said. “By the time we arrive to sign the final papers, it’ll be Tuesday morning in New York and the deal with WestTex will have just been completed. Harold seems to feel that everything will go smoothly from here on out.”
Diana smiled wryly. She sipped her coffee.
“I see you’re having a difficult time believing that, too,” Jack said.
“Can you blame me?”
“Not at all. In fact, I’d be surprised if something doesn’t go wrong. Too much has happened. My trust in this deal and in Redman International has dissolved. Someone is out to destroy George and his family.”
“They still haven’t found the man who murdered Celina, have they?”
