Then Charles saw the police cars pulling up at the front of the building and pointed.
“Hey, Dad. What’s going on?”
Blake sighed. “Who the hell knows,” he muttered.
Jack frowned. “Does this shit never end?”
They watched Constable Riordan, Chief Clayton and a trio of officers enter the lobby, but when the officers suddenly fanned out as they approached, Blake’s gut knotted.
“Dad?” Charles said as he took a step back, his voice suddenly pitched higher than normal.
“We’re fine,” Jack said.
Blake wasn’t so sure. This was too reminiscent of Justin’s arrest. What the fuck did the cops know?
The lobby guard looked nervous, but he stayed behind the desk.
Riordan gave a nod, and the officers headed for the Waynes.
Blake saw the handcuffs and panicked. What’s going on?” he said.
Jack Wayne glared and then shouted, “I demand to know the meaning of this.”
Riordan produced the arrest warrant. “Jeffrey Jack Wayne, you are under arrest for the murder of Stanton Youngblood. You have—”
Blake gasped. “You have to be kidding!”
Charles was shaking, afraid they were all going to be arrested before this nightmare was over.
“You have my alibi. You have nothing to back this up. Blake, call our lawyer. Now!” Jack demanded.
Riordan finished reading Jack his Miranda rights as the officers handcuffed him.
“Actually, we do have proof,” Riordan went on. “A most revealing video of you less than an hour before Stanton Youngblood was murdered running into the lake house to get a rifle, and then a follow-up video of you coming back forty-five minutes later, when you sat down and calmly cleaned the rifle before putting it back in the gun case.”
The shock on Jack’s face was obvious. “You don’t! You can’t! How—”
Blake was shaking. “Is this true? You have proof?”
“Yes. It was actually turned in to my office first, so we’ve both seen it,” Clayton offered.
Blake turned on his uncle in disbelief.
“From the start, you tore into all of us, trying to pin us down with alibis, making it look like all the trouble we were in was because of something one of us had done, when all the fucking time it was you? Why? Just tell me why?”
Jack shrugged. “He ruined everything.”
“But it wasn’t that big an investment!” Blake cried. “We’ve lost far more money on bigger projects before, and one way or another we’ve always recouped it.”
“I guess you may as well hear the truth from me, rather than hearing it in court. I transferred money from offshore accounts, and from accounts the board never got a chance to approve, and I manipulated some assests through East Coast Lenders in order to buy up the loans from the bank and force those foreclosures.”
“But you aren’t in charge of all that! I am,” Blake said. “I handle the investments. How did you do that without me knowing?”
Jack lifted his chin in a defiant gesture.
“How do you think I did it? I forged your damn signature, you idiot. I would have put the money back. But then Leigh and her hillbilly husband blocked the project when they made sure the last two pieces of land we needed were unavailable, and with the annual audits less than three months away, there was no way to cover up a ten million dollar shortfall without major embarrassment.”
Charles’s shock morphed from fear to disbelief and then anger.
“You murdered a man because you were going to be embarrassed? We have billions. It would have been a simple matter of moving money around!” he cried.
Jack glared. “But I would still have been removed as CEO of Wayne Industries. It was the principle of the thing!” he shouted.
“I’ve heard enough,” Riordan said, and led Jack Wayne away.
Blake started to take a step, and then staggered.
Charles caught his father by the elbow and quickly guided him out of the lobby to his car. “Get in, Dad.”
Blake obeyed without comment.
Charles drove all the way back to the mansion in silence. He couldn’t look at his father, knowing there were tears on his face. That wasn’t how their world worked.
“We’re here,” he said, as he parked beneath the portico.
Blake fumbled with the door handle before he finally got it open, and then he followed Charles inside.
Frances was carrying a fresh bouquet of flowers to the table in the foyer as they entered.
“Oh, Mr. Blake, Mr. Charles, did Cook know you were coming home for lunch?”
“We didn’t come home to eat,” Charles said. “Are my aunts here?”
Frances nodded.
“Would you please ask them to join Dad and me in the library?”
“Yes, of course. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”
“Not now, Frances, but thank you,” Charles said, and led his father down the hall and into the library.
Blake sat in the nearest chair as Charles headed to the bar. A minute later Blake took the shot of whiskey Charles offered him and downed it neat.
“What are we going to do?” Charles asked.