“Why? Because you were too busy getting the FBI involved, after I specifically told you to wait?”
“I had no choice.” I tell him how Klein tailed and then ambushed us. “As if I had any right to ask Gracie to wait.”
“No, I suppose not.” He shakes his head. “I don’t like the way these guys are operating. Haven’t been able to get much out of anyone, all day. I can appreciate why they’d be tight-lipped, though, especially given Dwayne Mantis’s position, and the fact that they don’t have much of anything that’s concrete.” He runs his hands over his face. “But I can’t help you if you keep secrets from me.”
“And what about the secrets you’re keeping from me?” I struggle to steel my spine as I confront my uncle. “You knew about that video, didn’t you? And about Abe going after Mantis for stealing the money.”
He chews the inside of his cheek in thought, his finger tracing the grain of the wood on the table’s surface. And every second I wait for his answer, my anxiety grows. “I did. And when you came to me yesterday, to tell me all this . . . I thought I was going to lose my breakfast right there in my office. Because I did know about it and I wrote it off as a lie fourteen years ago. If I’d believed it, I would have brought it forward as part of the investigation into his death.”
“What do you mean if you believed it? What the hell did you believe, then?” I can’t help my accusatory tone.
“The same damn thing as Harvey Maxwell! That it was all a part of this elaborate lie Abe was living, another fiber in the wool he’d pulled over everyone’s eyes.”
“Why on earth would he do that?”
“For the same reason he was lying to his wife for weeks about his whereabouts!”
“He was searching for her sister!”
Silas throws his hands in the air in an act of surrender. “I didn’t know that! No one knew anything about this Betsy girl! Dina didn’t even know! Why lie to her about it? If he’d told her the truth, then he would have had an alibi.”
I level him with a look. “Mom knew about Betsy.”
“Well, she didn’t tell me.” His voice is bitter. “And I looked through the evidence they found on his computer and in his house. There was nothing there. So I figured there was never anything there to begin with. Had Dina come to me about this man who’d threatened her . . .” He lets his words drift.
“Is this why Mom blamed herself for Abe dying? Does this have something to do with Dina’s sister? Does Betsy have something to do with the fallout between Abe and her?”
His throat bobs with his swallow as he gazes at the chair my mother was sitting in that night. I had been preparing to warn anyone who made for it today—not that chair; don’t sit in that chair—but no one even came close. “I wish I knew, Noah, but she never told me. Apparently there’s a lot she didn’t tell me. Your mom . . . she was different after Abe died.”
“That’s when she started drinking.”
“It wasn’t just the drinking. She became closed off. To everyone, myself included. She got that promotion to assistant chief not long after and she became so focused on her career, nothing else seemed to matter. She wasn’t the same. I figured it had to do with Abe—with him not being the man she thought he was.” He sighs. “All I know is that with the overwhelming evidence in front of us, we were all left to believe the obvious answer.”
Yes. The evidence. “We went to the motel today, Silas. And there had to be a third person in that room.”
“Maybe there was. But it isn’t as conclusive as what he made you think.” Silas throws a casual hand toward the back, where Klein paces around Gracie, a lit cigarette in his hand. “That guy was still a kid stealing his daddy’s beer and feeling up his girlfriend in the back of a car while I was standing in that motel room, surrounded by dead bodies and blood and drugs and a million hard questions. If there were people in that investigation working to erase fingerprints, to make Abe look guilty . . . well, that means everything was questionable, then, doesn’t it?”
“You can’t rule his theory out, though.”
“His theory is the backbone of this investigation, now, for what it’s worth, without any hard evidence.”
“Thanks to Stapley.”
Silas shakes his head in disbelief. “If Abe was murdered by those two, they will be punished to the full extent of the law.” He sounds resolute, and yet his expression shows only worry. “But we may have to be satisfied with simply clearing Abe’s name with reasonable doubt and moving on with our lives.”
“I know that.”
“Make sure that girl out there knows that. You don’t want her following in her mother’s footsteps.”
“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. Gracie would never become that.”
“Let’s hope not.”
“Dina says she’s just like Abe. Except, you know . . . a girl.” A girl who has me ensnared in her spell.
“Yes, I’ve noticed.” I feel Silas’s shrewd gaze on me.
Can he tell I’m falling hard for Abe’s daughter?
I clear my throat. “I may need a loan for Dina’s rehab. Just until Mom’s insurance—”
“Judy’ll call to sort that out. She can send a payment to the rehab center first thing tomorrow.”
I sigh with relief. “Thanks, Silas.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m always here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
It’s true. He always has been. And I was a dick today. “I’m sorry. I should have just picked up the phone and told you about Klein yesterday. This whole thing is . . . it’s making me crazy.”
“I told you it would, son. It’s done that to all of us.” His eyes wander outside, to where Gracie sits, his face suddenly grim as if burdened with a thousand unspoken worries. “For what it’s worth, she didn’t deserve this. None of them did.”
“At least now maybe we’ll get justice for Abe.”
He stands and pats my shoulder. “Yes, sir. Justice.”
CHAPTER 44
Grace
The elevator music finally cuts out. “Grace?”
I pause for a moment, absorbing the sound of my mother’s voice, clear and strong, even after only a few sober days. What will a few months without drugs coursing through her veins do? Will I actually get my mother back? Do I dare hope?
“Hello? Grace?”
“Mom.” Unexpected tears start rolling down my cheeks. I feel like I’m in a daze.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, panicked.
“Nothing. Everything’s great. You wouldn’t believe what just happened.” I tell her about Canning’s press conference. By the time I’m done, she’s sobbing into the phone.
“You can’t be serious. Is this a joke?”
“I am! I mean, no, it’s not a joke.” I quickly explain the last several days.
“The FBI? Did Silas call them?”
“No, actually we have Jackie Marshall to thank for that. They were already investigating by the time we got here.”
The door to the kitchen opens and Kristian steps out, sauntering over to me with that casual swagger of his.
“The man who came to your hospital room was an FBI agent. His name was Kristian Klein.” I watch as Kristian pulls a cigarette pack out of his back pocket. I had no idea he even smoked. I wonder if he’s allowed to light up in the backyard of a crime scene. Something tells me he’d do it with or without permission.
“Klein . . .” my mom repeats, and I can picture her brow furrowing. “That does sound familiar.”
I doubt it, but I’ll let her hold on to that. “You don’t need to be afraid, Mom. No one’s coming to Tucson to get you.”
“And what about you? You’re there in Austin, right in the thick of things.”
“I’ll be fine.” I left out the part about Mantis pulling us over. Details she doesn’t need to know. “Besides, I have Noah here to protect me. And Cyclops.”
Klein paces aimlessly around the yard, puffing on his cigarette. Listening to my every word. On impulse, I toss the tennis ball, aiming it to fly a foot or so in front of his face, just close enough to startle him. I get nothing but a raised brow in response.
My mom chuckles. It’s a soft, nostalgic melody. “I knew that dog would bite someone eventually. Glad he made it count.”