scrawl. The address checked out as false, and so there was another missing fact: How had Kutchler/Haywood received his invitation if not through the mail?
The assumption was that Kutchler/Haywood and Neufield had been killed by the same person who'd murdered Caroline and shot Jack, but again no leads emerged from this probe. No one who knew the two dead men could come up with even a remote idea about how they'd gotten invited to the opening. Not one person who knew them could envision any connection at all to the Kellers or anyone who worked in the restaurant.
Although all investigators assumed the killer was a man, at some point Jack realized that he could not even say that for certain. Due to the deep concussion he'd received as soon as he'd entered the office, the voices he'd heard were distant and dreamlike – in retrospect many of the words were gibberish – and of no distinct gender.
So here was the most crucial missing fact of all: Who was the third person in the office that night? Who had put three bullets into Jack and one fatal bullet into his wife?
And why was Caroline thrown out the window after she'd been shot? Police, as well as Jack's private investigators, dismissed any real connection to Joan Keller's death. One cop claimed it was an unfortunate coincidence. One theorized that the murderer might have known about Jack's mother's death and gone the copycat route.
Jack knew better, though. He knew it was the uprising of the ghosts.
There were so many unknowns. And only one thing that could not be questioned: Lives had changed. Been ruined. Ended.
There was one more news story for Jack to read before he went inside. It was in the business section of that morning's New York Times. He'd already read it once. After the first paragraph, it was just a rehash of the shooting and the fact that the suspect was never found, as well as an update on Jack's recovery. He had no need to read that material again; the Times reporting was not as detailed or accurate as the local Virginia paper. But he did read the first few paragraphs again. He wanted the quick hit of reality that the words gave him.
From page D1 of the Business Section of the
New York Times, September 25:
JACK'S RESTAURANT DEAL CONCLUDED
Leonard R. McGirk, an executive vice-president for Restaurants United, announced today that the Dallas, Texas-based consortium has signed a contract to assume complete ownership of Jack's restaurants. The negotiations have been ongoing and, according to Mr. McGirk, the terms were settled upon over two months ago. 'The deal would have been closed soon after the first of year,' Mr. McGirk said, 'except both sides had lawyers who wanted to make sure every t was crossed and every potato was fried.' Mr. McGirk said that one of the key elements to the deal, which both sides wanted, was figuring out a way to keep Jack Keller, the founder of the restaurant chain, involved as a consultant. Neither side would reveal the terms of the sale, but it is estimated to be in excess of twenty-five million dollars. The original Jack's, based in Manhattan, has long been a popular eatery and watering hole for the city's top athletes, politicians, and celebrities. Over the past twenty years, the owner, Jack Keller, has built upon the restaurant's cache and popularity to open six additional restaurants around the world. There is currently a Jack's in London, Paris, Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami, and Charlottesville. The Charlottesville restaurant, which opened in April of last year, was the scene of a tragic shooting, in which Mr. Keller's wife, Caroline, was killed and Mr. Keller was…
Jack put the paper down.
Jack's Restaurant Deal Concluded.
It was done now. No last chance to renege. The person he had loved the most – Caroline – had been murdered and her death made him despise the thing he'd loved the most – the restaurant. He couldn't bear to go into Jack's, couldn't stand to talk about it; it made him too sad to even think about it. So he'd sold it. The whole thing.
Dom had tried to talk him out of it. 'What'll you do?' he'd said.
'I'll be rich,' Jack responded. 'I'll do whatever I want to do.' But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. There was nothing left for him to want to do. Nothing left that he cared about. His wife, his business, even his body, gone. The only life he'd ever wanted, gone.
Gone is gone.
Through his fog, Jack realized that Mattie was once more speaking to him.
'I know, I know,' he said. 'I'm coming in.'
'I'm not bugging you,' she told him. 'You're a grown man. I'm just telling you they called from downstairs; you've got company on the way up.'
'Who?' he said, and there was genuine surprise in his voice. Jack did not have many people just pop in to say hello.
'You'll be happy to see him, that's all I'm saying,' Mattie answered. 'Now please get in here so I can close the damn door and stop myself from freezing to death.'
Jack nodded, put his hands down at his sides, and as his fingertips grazed cold steel spokes he had the same astonished thought that had sprung to mind every single day since he'd been home from the hospital:
Jesus Christ, I'm in a wheelchair.
He still had not mastered the workings of the chair, still felt awkward as his fingers groped for the wheels and spun them backward, rolling the chair away from the table. As he was trying to turn it around, it lurched forward a few inches toward the restraining wall and Jack felt his stomach clench. For the briefest of moments, his terrible fear of heights overcame him and he saw the picture that had flashed through his head so often: getting too close to the wall, somehow toppling over, then falling, tumbling through the air, the ground rushing up to meet him. The picture in his mind was far too real, not at all dreamlike but vivid and crystal clear; it made him dizzy and sick. He quickly turned his chair, was able to shake away the vision as he looked down at the terrace floor, away from the wall. He took a quick breath, in and out, then another, and maneuvered the chair so it would roll safely through the sliding door to the living room. That was when he heard the familiar voice:
'What the hell are you doing out there, freezin' your balls off?'
Dom, in baggy beige chinos and a bulky white Irish knit sweater, was standing there, looking out at him.
'I told him, Mr. Dom.' Mattie was behind him. 'He won't listen to me.'
'I listen to both of you,' Jack mumbled. 'I just try not to pay too much attention.'
'Get inside, you asshole. I got a surprise for you.'
Jack propelled the chair forward. As soon as he was inside, Mattie skipped out to retrieve the newspapers and then, quickly stepping back in, she slid the balcony door shut, locked it, and headed for another room.
'So,' Dom said, and Jack could immediately hear the forced casual tone in his voice. 'How ya feelin'?'
'I feel better.'
'Oh.' Dom tugged at the side of his sweater, yanking at a long, loose thread, trying to break it off, managing only to unravel it even further. 'What I mean is, how are you feeling?'
'Are we talking psychological scars now instead of physical ones?'
'Goddamnit, Jack. You know I'm not good at this shit. I'm just trying to figure out how the fuck you're doin'.'
'Is this the surprise? You're revealing your sensitive, feminine side?'
'No.' The voice came from the entryway by the elevator. The person speaking was just out of view. It took Jack a moment to recognize the voice, which he did a split second before the speaker stepped into the living room. 'I'm the surprise.'
Jack stared in silence at the young man standing in his apartment. He was maybe six-one but he seemed even taller. He filled up the room, not with size but with his presence. He wore jeans and a light blue hooded sweatshirt, the hood drooping down his back, and black-and-white Nike running shoes. Even under the sweatshirt, Jack could see that he was lean and in great shape. His sleeves were pushed up just below his elbows and his forearms were ripped; standing there, he nervously clenched and unclenched his hand and each time he did, the veins on his arms popped and a muscle rippled. His hair was a light brown and slightly too long and shaggy. It looked messy but
