"Were you able to get a copy of that letter?"
"It's highest priority. We'll have it today."
I nod. "I need a favor," I say, then shake my head. "More than that… when I'm finished, I need you to remember that you're my father. Not my attorney." I swallow the hapless emotions welling in my throat. "I'm going to need my Dad." Never before have I contemplated baring myself so entirely to my father. Not only am I asking him to bear the weight of the information, but also that of my need as a son to be absolved of the fucked-upness that follows me. I sigh, rolling my eyes back to stay the unbidden wetness gathering there. "I should have come to you years ago. But you know how I was, as a child, when I got older. I never wanted you to know this part of me. I believed, and still do, that you won't understand. But if I'm ever to see my wife and child again, I need you to try; I need your help. Will you?"
He opens his mouth to speak.
"It's not illegal," I interrupt. "You've already heard that part of the story."
His face turns pale, and he swallows. "Then you have my ear. Though the fact that you connect that… unspeakable liaison… gives me cause for great concern, Edward. You're my son. You'll always be that. And I've told you, how much I regret that we were unable to protect you from… that woman."
I nod, but the reassurance is grim. I doubt he'll ever comprehend why I was the way I was. But as such, he's obliged himself to be my father, and so, I must allow him the chance.
"None of this leaves these four walls," I insist. "Know that I now abhor many of the things I did during that period of my life, up to as recent as a few years ago." My fingers meet, twining uneasily around each other. "You know of the… relationship. What you don't know… is what it entailed."
Carrick King visibly steels himself. "Go on."
I suck in a long breath. "Are you familiar with the concept known as Bondage and Discipline?"
My father's furrowed eyebrows push together further, as if resisting the upward climb and I assume the affirmative.
"John Flynn and I have discussed this at length," I continue, my scalp prickling at the unavoidable 'outing' of a trusted family friend. "I came to the conclusion early on that my affinity for the practice stems from the time before you and Mom brought me home. It was a form of control I hadn't been able to grasp before, and as you noticed in my drastic behavioral improvement at the time, it was a way to find the balance within myself, to stop the spiral of self-destruction. For a long time, I idolized… her… for the control I'd learned to wield. Later, after… my partners were willing, consenting participants. I operated within the bounds of utmost and mutual safety and secrecy, never wavering. As a strict policy, I never took on a…" I swallow, the word hanging from the tip of my tongue, "… submissive, who was unfamiliar to the lifestyle. Until Krissy fell into my life."
Dad blinks serenely. It's the expression he saves for when he has no appropriate reaction.
"I hadn't been with anyone for a while. Her initial demeanor was not unlike the qualities I desired in those that came before her, and so the attraction was there. But as I got to know her, I came to realize that she was nothing like the others… though I tried to convince her otherwise. To sum up what I'm trying to tell you, there was one, albeit most regrettable incident, in which I did hit her." My head drops into my palms. "She asked me… to show her how intense it could get. It was discussed and mutually agreed upon beforehand, and she had a safeword if the scene were to become too intense, but it was… upsetting, to say the least. For both of us."
"Why… are you telling me this," my father's voice is quiet, and hardly interrogative.
"Because even though she can't remember it right now, and even though I've told her about it since, and she's spoken to John at length to prepare her for the day she might remember… It's the only time I've ever hurt her. The only time. And in the context of this… situation… I needed you to know that."
My father leans back, slowly, until his back presses into the chair. His lips form a thin, straight line, a frown marring his brow. He considers me. And rather than reduce myself to a waif of contrition, rather than submitting to his customary, silent study of my expression after hearing my position, I remove all emotion from my face. All semblance of feeling, pushed down until it no longer reflects outward. I wait several minutes for a response, any reaction.
And his first comment has little to do with me.
"I can't believe John Flynn knew, all this time."
"We can trust him, Dad. I do. He's helped me more than you can imagine."
Dad swallows, and sighs. I'm sure he's imagining quite a lot more, now. "You're still my son," he declares, his voice rough. "Who else knows?"
I resist the urge to show any semblance of my relief. "Krissy, of course. And Kate, to a small extent, though I wouldn't advise revealing any more to her. And then there are my former partners, each of whom signed a standard agreement of nondisclosure. And I have… materials… to prevent their reconsideration, if that were ever to become an issue." It's all or nothing, King, I remind myself, though I'm cringing inwardly at the level of revelation.
"Materials?"
"Photos."
"I see." He sighs. "And you conducted these… relationships…"
"In a safe, sane, contractual and ultimately private manner," I interrupt. "All precautions were taken. Nothing was ever left to chance."
Dad swallows. "And yet, Krissy… was she injured?"
"Barely. More, it was her lack of experience, of preparedness, in handling certain… sensations. She wasn't damaged, if that's what you're getting at."
"I see."
A silence stretches between us. As with anyone unfamiliar to the lifestyle, the discomfort is typically embodied by a period of quiet absorption.
"I'm not certain why you chose to reveal this to me at all, much less now," he finally speaks.
"Believe me, I'd much rather you never knew," I say, a hint of bitterness in my words. "But my concern is for my wife and son. This detective presumably has information on my wife and I, information whose source is yet unknown. If certain details of my past were to be proven during proceedings and you were to be caught unaware…"
"I see your point," he interrupts. "Better to appear that I've known all along.
"And better that you know, to lay a strategy for Krissy's case. To prepare her."
"Now that's something we need to discuss… my legal representation of Krissy could be construed as conspiracy to cover up your suspected offenses against her. Misrepresentation is a very serious offense in and of itself."
"I'm well aware. Which is why I'll be representing myself, separately."
My father blinks at me. Outrage appears to have escaped him. "You can't be serious."
"Get everyone on Krissy's side of the case. Anyone who could stand as a character witness needs to be on her side, whether they're witnessing for me as well. You, Elliot, Kate, Mia, Ethan, John, Krissy's dad, anyone on my home or security staff, get them to stand behind her. They'd all choose her side, regardless. Get them behind her. They don't need to know what I've told you, and every member of my staff has signed an NDA. Any one of them will deny the allegations."
My father's hand moves to his mouth, his index finger running slowly across his upper lip. "I see what you're getting at, but we should wait to see what this letter entails." He sighs and shifts in his chair. "I've heard of this Kane fellow. We'll need to do some digging, and I hope I'm wrong in what I know if him."
My ears prick. What?
He shifts again, leaning forward. "We're a little ways off from actual proceedings, though. The District Attorney isn't happy about the way this played out. Kane was arrogant and sloppy, but the evidence they've been able to collect apparently justifies their warrant to remove Krissy and Ryan from the home, though it's strange and upsetting that it came to such extreme action, else I'm certain Ron wouldn't have let it happen. He's assured me access to the body of evidence early next week, but I should have the letter
by this afternoon. The next step is that Krissy will require a full evaluation. Up until a few minutes ago, I was going to recommend John…"
"Dad, he's still the best man for the job. Trust me," I interrupt.
"Would you allow me to finish?" he barks, albeit tiredly. God, we both need sleep. "By that time, we should have a clearer idea of what to expect from Kane. He may have presumed to provide representation for Krissy himself, so we've already unsettled him. All we need to do is stay a step or two ahead. I believe I can bend a few noses and keep this to a private hearing, but I'll need to further research this Kane fellow. This isn't his first high-profile abuse case."
"I've had Welch on Kane's profile since five this morning. I'll share his findings when I have them… but incidentally, what is it you've heard?"
"Just enough to know that we need to be very, very careful in how we handle our side of things. Returning to the initial handling, let's not forget that there's no solid evidence to suggest that Krissy has been held against her will; no one made any inquiries of the family, and no one from the outside is aware of Krissy's memory loss… Kane's overconfidence and corner-cutting may be the end of this whole thing. He's going to look stupid enough as it is, and I'll bury him."
Something occurs to me. "Do we know for certain that the accusation points toward me harming Krissy, specifically?"
"We won't know that until we see the letter, or whatever other evidence is presented. You're right in that this was very oddly handled… generally, if a person is considered dangerous, that person's movements are restricted. I don't desire to speculate, but the fact that Krissy and Ryan were removed suggests that they were specified as victims. I say again, we need to see the body of evidence, but if whatever is presented doesn't corroborate or if it does and Krissy declines to press charges, we'd need to further prove that you're no danger to your son in order to set this right."
I nod. "I can't say I feel better. But I can see a way forward."
Dad rises, adjusting his jacket, and I follow. "I need to be getting along to the office. Do you have some of Krissy's and Ryan's things packed?"
"I sent them over with Sawyer before you arrived, actually. He's switching with Taylor."
He nods. "We'll get this sorted. Soon."
We shake hands, two businessmen, for the moment. I walk him out.
Something dawns on me, and my heart sinks. "Oh, God."
"What?"
I sigh, and my hand goes to my forehead. "Monday is Kristina's twenty-fifth birthday."
"Hmm. Yes, I suppose it is," he considers. "I'll ask Mia to get with Kate and plan something for her."
I swallow. I suppose it's the best that can be done. Despite my extensive resources, it's unlikely this situation will sort itself over a weekend. "Thank you. Please let me know if there's anything she or Ryan needs."
"I will. We'll reconvene in a few hours."
I lurch forward as he turns to leave. "Please, Dad… I understand that I'm hardly in a position to make a request of you, but I'd rather you didn't share this with Mom."
"Under the current circumstance, I have to agree. For now."
And I'll have to take it, for now.
~oOo~
"King."
"It's Welch, sir. I have that profile on Mark Kane. It's a doozy."
"Summary?"
"You remember back in oh-seven, those women that came out of the woodwork all saying that investment banker Keller kept them under lock and key? That bastard who kept them in the basement and tried to knock them all up, threatened their families of they ever talked. The Broodmares case, the media called it."
"It rings a bell."
"That was Kane. Pinned Woods on every charge. The guy was toast; hung himself in the psych lockup a few weeks after. This Kane, he's a real mind, it was like he just knew. Same idea in a hundred cases, from what I'm seeing."
"Send it to me. All of it."
"Email's on the way. I'm going to check this guy's financials next. Let you know what turns up."
"Keep me informed." I click the end button, already having switched on my laptop. The eight seconds I have to wait for the operating system to kick on is endless. "All right, you bastard. Let's see what you have that I can destroy."
There are three emails, each containing the maximum data allowance worth of attachments. The first contains a history of education and employment. Graduated from Ole Miss, J.D. law degree 1982. Dean's List. So he has a law degree, the fucker… and the credibility that goes with it. Worked in the DA's office in Jackson for a year, and then moved to a small firm… detective credentials from Hinds County Sheriff's Office noted in '87. Seems he's based himself at the previous firm, however. List of associations and accreditations, from all over the States. The latest case was a Hollywood producer who fucked his underage mistress into oblivion and then tried to cover it up… so that's what really happened, not that I care, but Christ, that was him. This Kane fucker's been around…
Forty-five minutes, seventeen newspaper clippings and nine high-profile case reports later, my email dings again. The subject line reads, 'Bingo.'
My eyes widen at what they see.
Speed dial isn't speedy enough. And it rings four fucking times.
"Hold on a moment," I hear my father's disembodied voice come through. There's a muffled conversation and then he returns. "I had to step away from your mother; she's been asking after you. What have you found?"
Of course. Thank you, Dad, for getting to the point quickly, and reminding me what a poor son I am. "What haven't I found… his credentials are clean, but everything else… to say he's shady is like saying it rains in Seattle."
A sigh blows through the speaker. "I'll need to see it All of it."
"Come by later and I'll give you hard copies. I had to go under the radar for some of it."
"I'll be there in an hour. Krissy and Kate will be bringing the children shortly to visit with your mother."
Another subtle reminder, to honor the fucking restraining order. "I understand. Security has kept me apprised of the schedule. I'll try to make time to visit… after."
"I'll let her know. I don't have to remind you that she's not to be bothered with any of this."
"No shit." I pause. "Sorry."
"Just…"
"Yes Dad, I know. No hint of this to Mom. No chance encounters with my family. And incidentally, I'll try really hard to keep it together, if it makes you happy."
There's that sigh again. "It's a hard time for you, I know. It's hard on all of us. I don't diminish what you're going through, Edward. None of us saw this coming, but we need to stick together. I'd advise a call to Ray, give him an overview, in case Kane's team decides to reach out to him. Discuss how to best break this to Carla, in the event her interview is solicited. We don't know what kind of strategy they'll have, but the best defense is a solid and unified front. Krissy's as much a defendant in this case as you are, from where I'm standing."
"I have a pretty good idea of his strategy, actually. You'll see for yourself when you get here."
"An hour."
I hit the 'end' button and dial Welch again.
~ KRISSY ~
"I want Daddy."
The knife that stabs my gut every time he asks has grown rusty and dull. Ryan's grumbling hasn't let up all morning. I want to comfort him, to tell him that we'll see Daddy soon, but I can't, and it kills me. I wonder if it's anything like what Edward went through for a month, when Ryan asked for me, and he couldn't oblige our baby's most basic request.
"We're going to see Grandma Grace today, won't that be nice?" I ask, attempting to mask the steady state of anxious uncertainty with enthusiasm. I must not be doing it well.
"No." He crosses his arms over his chest.
"Oh, baby boy, I'm sorry you're not happy. What else can I do?"
"I want Daddy!" The indignant urgency isn't lost on me, and he hugs himself tighter for emphasis. If the situation weren't so depressing, this might be a bit funny. I decide
to distract him instead.
"How about a snack? Ava will be up soon from her nap, and then we'll go on a little trip. Okay?"
"Hmph." Ryan scoots off the couch, arms still crossed, and runs away from me and into the kitchen, little dimpled elbows swaying from side to side like a little washing machine agitator. He's really mad. I haven't known him thus far to be extremely spoiled as he's probably expected to be, but he's being a bit bratty now. But unlike other ill-mannered outbursts, he has a legitimate reason to be distraught. If I'd wanted my dad at that age and was denied, I'd have felt betrayed, too.
I find him in the pantry, digging for… something. I keep him in the periphery but leave him alone, vowing to interfere only if he starts climbing Gretchen's perfectly-stocked shelves.
"About ready, Steele?" Kate bounces a still-sleepy Ava on her hip. The little one's pink jumper is a little oversized and she has her middle and ring fingers plugged firmly in her mouth, rockstar style.
"Ryan's finding a snack." I tell her, and then lower my voice. "He keeps asking for D-A-D-D-Y."
Kate sucks a breath through her teeth. "What did you tell him?"
"What can I tell him? I keep trying to distract him, but now he's mad at me. I've never dealt with this… I mean, I don't remember how…"
"It's okay, take a breath," she interrupts. "You always handled him fine, and you've been a natural these last couple months. Don't stress. This is just weird for him."
"Yeah. It's weird for me, too."
Kate rubs her free hand up and down my arm, and together we watch Ryan's pantry antics.
~oOo~
"My babies!" Grace exclaims, her voice a bit gravelly but otherwise, she's more herself than I'd expected. Her head is wrapped in gauze and she has a couple of machines monitoring this and that, but she's propped up in bed, legs crossed. She's even wearing scrubs. Kate gently passes Ava to her. I settle into a chair with Ryan in my lap and hand him his Kurio tablet from my bag. He holds it for a few seconds, but his eyes focus on Grace and Ava.
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