Spinner and Wyman.
He said, “That’s the only reason the police aren’t swarming all over you right now. Every guy with a badge or a uniform is over there trying to pick through the pieces in case there are more casualties.”
Jane held tight to Andrew’s hand. His face was slack, his skin the same color as the sheets. She said, “Jasper, Andy is—”
“I know about Andrew.” Jasper’s tone was flat, indecipherable. He had not once looked at Andrew since he’d walked into the room. “We have to talk. You and I.”
Jane knew he was going to ask her about Martin. She looked at Andrew because she did not want to see the hope, then disappointment, then disgust, in Jasper’s face.
He said, “Nick is a fraud. His name isn’t even Nick.”
Jane’s head swiveled around.
“That FBI agent—Danberry—he told me that Nick’s real name is Clayton Morrow. They identified him through the fingerprints in your bedroom.”
Jane was without words.
“The real Nicholas Harp died of an overdose six years ago, his first day at Stanford. I’ve seen the death certificate. It was heroin.”
The real Nicholas Harp?
“The real Nick’s drug dealer, Clayton Morrow, assumed his identity. Do you understand what I’m saying, Jinx? Nick isn’t really Nick. His real name is Clayton Morrow. He stole a dead man’s identity. Maybe he even gave Harp the fatal overdose. Who knows what he’s capable of?”
Stole a dead man’s identity?
“Clayton Morrow grew up in Maryland. His father’s a pilot with Eastern. His mother is the president of the PTA. He’s got four younger brothers and a sister. The state police believe he murdered his girlfriend. Her neck was broken. She was beaten so badly they had to use dental films to identify her body.”
Her neck was broken.
“Jinx, I need you to tell me you understand what I’m saying.” Jasper had slid down the wall, rested his elbows on his knees, so he could be at her level. “The man you know as Nick lied to us. He lied to us all.”
“But—” Jane struggled to make sense of what he’d said. “Agent Barlow told us all in the parlor that Nick’s mother had sent him to California to live with his grandmother. That’s the same story Nick told us.”
“The real Nick’s mother sent him out west.” Jasper worked to keep the frustration out of his voice. “He knocked up a girl back home. They didn’t want his life to be over. They sent him out here to live with his grandmother. That part was true, about the move, but the rest was just bullshit to make us feel sorry for him.”
Jane had no more questions because none of this felt real. The prostitute mother. The abusive grandmother. The year of homelessness. The triumphant acceptance to Stanford.
Jasper said, “Don’t you see that Clayton Morrow used just enough of the real Nick’s story to make the lies he told us believable?” He waited, but Jane still had no words. “Do you hear what I’m saying, Jinx? Nick, or Clayton Morrow, or whoever he is, was a fraud. He lied to all of us. He was nothing but a drug dealer and a con man.”
. . . just another con man running another cult so he could bed the pretty girls and play God with all the boys.
Jane felt a noise force its way out of her throat. Not grief, but laughter. She heard the sound bounce around the tiny room, so incongruous with the machines and pumps. She put her hand to her mouth. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her stomach muscles cramped, she laughed so hard.
“Christ.” Jasper stood back up. He was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. “Jinx, this is serious. You’re going to go to prison if you don’t make a deal.”
Jane wiped her eyes. She looked at Andrew, so close to death that his flesh was nearly translucent. This was what he’d been trying to tell Jane in the van. The real Nick had been his assigned roommate at Stanford. She could easily see Nick persuading Andrew to play along, just as she could see Andrew doing whatever it took to befriend the dead man’s drug dealer.
She wiped her eyes again. She held tight to Andrew’s hand. None of it mattered. She forgave him everything, just as he had forgiven her.
“What is wrong with you?” Jasper asked. “You’re laughing about the asshole who murdered our father.”
Now he was finally getting to the point. She said, “Laura Juneau murdered our father.”
“You think anybody in that fucking cult makes a move without his orders?” Jasper hissed out the words between clenched teeth. “This is serious, Jinx. Get yourself together. If you want to have anything like a normal life, you’re going to have to turn your back on the troops.”
Troops?
“They’ve already captured that idiot woman from San Francisco. She stole a car and shot at a police officer.” He loosened his tie as he paced the tiny room. “You have to talk before she does. They’ll give a deal to the first person who squeals. If we’re going to save your life, we have to act fast.”
Jane watched her brother’s nervous pacing. Sweat was pouring off of him. He looked agitated, which for anyone else would be a typical response. But Jasper’s greatest gift was his ability to always keep his cool. Jane could count on one hand the number of times Jasper had really lost it.
For the first time in hours, she let go of Andrew’s hand. She stood to tuck the blanket around him. She pressed her lips to his cool forehead. She wished for a moment that she could see into his mind, because he had clearly known so much more than her.
She told Jasper, “You called them troops.”
Jasper stopped pacing. “What?”
“You were in the Air Force for fifteen years. You’re still in the Reserves. You wouldn’t dishonor that word by using it to describe the members of a cult.” In her mind, Jane could see Nick clapping together his hands, preparing to deliver one of his rallying speeches. “That’s what Nick calls us. His troops.”
Jasper might have called her bluff, but he couldn’t stop himself from nervously glancing at the cop across the hallway.
Jane said, “You knew about it. Oslo, at least.”
He shook his head, but it made sense that Nick had found a way to pull him into their folly. Jasper had left the Air Force to run the company. Martin kept promising to step aside, but then the deadline would come and he would find another excuse to stay.
She said, “Tell me the truth, Jasper. I need to hear you say it.”
“Stop talking.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. He closed the space between them, his face inches from hers. “I’m trying to help you out of this.”
“Did you give money?” Jane asked, because a lot of people had given money to the cause. Of all of them, only Jasper would personally benefit from Martin’s public humiliation.
He said, “Why would I give that asshole money?”
Jasper’s haughtiness gave him away. She had watched him use it as a weapon her entire life, but he had never, ever directed it toward Jane.
She told him, “Taking the company public would’ve been a lot more lucrative if Father was forced to resign. All of his essays and speeches about the Queller Correction made him too controversial.”
Jasper’s jaw worked. She could tell from his face that she was right.
“Nick was bribing you,” Jane guessed. The stupid metal box with Nick’s trophies. How smug he must have been when he told Jasper he’d stolen the forms right under his nose. “Tell me the truth, Jasper.”
His eyes went back to the cop. The man was still across the hall talking to a nurse.
Jane said, “I’m on your side, whether you believe me or not. I never wanted you to get hurt. I only found out about the papers before everything went to hell.”
Jasper cleared his throat. “What papers?”