by Jeremy Pack
Chris pulled out of George's arms and stared at the wall. He was numb. When he recovered his voice, he made an admission he'd only ever made to himself. "But I didn't love him, George, at least not in the way you think I did."
George seemed confused. "You shared your lives for five years," he protested. "You were raising Brianna together."
"I was raising Brianna. You know as well as I do that Michael didn't want anything to do with her."
"He loved that child dearly."
"He tolerated her," Chris corrected. "You know, I can't remember a time he ever expressed any real interest in her. I don't think he ever wanted to be a parent."
George was silent for a moment. "I suppose it would seem that way," he said cautiously. "Michael was ambitious. He was driven by his career, but he and I spoke often of how he regretted not being more... available to look after her."
Chris couldn't imagine Michael saying such things, but it was pointless to argue. Instead, he turned back to the topic at hand. He looked directly into George's eyes. "It's time to stop dodging the question, George. Tell me how you found out about his drug habit."
"Do you really want to know?" Hesitation was evident in the man's posture, and his blue eyes were liquid pools of distress.
"I... well, the secret's out now, isn't it?" Chris heard conviction in his voice that surprised him. Where was this strength coming from?
George stood up and walked over to his desk. He sat on the polished mahogany surface, and his eyes clouded with memory. Before he spoke again, he plucked a fountain pen from a marble base and rolled the pen between his fingers.
"This won't be easy for you to hear," he warned.
"What's easy? If I survived the past year, I think I can manage this."
George was briefly contemplative. Then, placing the pen back in its base, he spoke. "All right, then, here it is. After the Brunner Investment case concluded, Michael began spending a significant amount of time away from work. His other clients suffered from his absences. We got complaints about missed appointments, shoddy documentation. When an old acquaintance of mine showed up and told me Michael was illicitly involved with Johan Brunner, I had him followed. I can't afford to have a partner not pulling his weight. It turned out he was spending time with Brunner. A lot of time."
George paused. There was a look on his face that hinted there had been more to the relationship between Michael and Brunner than just drugs. Although he couldn't seem to bring himself to speak the words, his distaste for the affair was evident. He stood and paced, his eyes far away as he continued. "Johan Brunner escaped a fraud indictment only because Michael was a brilliant attorney. He's scum, though, guilty as hell. He has connections all over the place. Drugs, black market, you name it. It's the drugs that Michael got mixed up in."
Chris swallowed hard, stunned by this admission. "Why would you allow Michael to take Brunner's case if you knew he was guilty of these terrible things? Isn't that the same as condoning his crimes?" He was suddenly questioning George's character, and that frightened him. Had his admiration for this man been misguided all along? Were all people so duplicitous?
"I didn't know," George said quickly. "Not then." As if to clarify, he added, "I don't follow individual cases that closely anymore. My partners and associates do all of the legwork. I just keep the machine greased. It was only when the situation with Michael came to light that I found out what kind of scum Brunner really was. By then, it was too late to do anything about it."
"George," Chris said, leaning forward and fixing the man with a serious stare, "if all of this is true, then why did you tell the police you could account for Michael's extended absences, that his caseload was increased in the months leading up to the murders?"
"Because those things were all true. I doubled his caseload. I buried him in work to keep him occupied."
"Well, why didn't you tell them about his affair with Brunner?"
George made a sound of dissent. "Please, don't try to deny it. Michael was sleeping with Brunner. I could tell by the look on your face. This was more than just the two of them being drug buddies. I can deal with that. What I can't understand is why you would cover it up when it could have made all the difference."
"Listen to me. It's a dead end. I know because I... took care of that situation a full year before the tragedy with Michael and Brianna occurred."
"Took care of it? How?"
George became evasive. He seemed unable to look Chris in the eye.
"Let's just say I did some things that would not have been looked upon with favor by the police."
"You didn't kill him? George, tell me you didn't kill him."
"Honestly, what kind of person do you think I am?" There was stunned outrage in his tone. "Of course not. But I did ensure he wouldn't be hanging around while I was trying to rehabilitate my star attorney."
Chris was growing increasingly uneasy with the turn this conversation had taken. These revelations were completely at odds with what he thought he knew about George MacQuery. Everything he admired about him seemed to have been a sham. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. You kept secrets from me, withheld vital information from the police, potentially derailed their entire investigation---"
"Vital information? Chris, have you listened to a single word I've said? There is no way Brunner was involved. He had no contact with Michael after I ran him out of Seattle. He wouldn't have dared to show his face in this city again."
Chris gritted his teeth. His trust in George had just suffered a terrible blow. He no longer knew what to believe.
"Chris, everything I have done, I have done for you, and for everyone else who would have suffered harm as a result of this entire scandal with Brunner. There are good men and women who, with hard work and spilled tears, made this practice what it is. What of them---and you? Can you honestly say that you would have been able to cope while that fool Callahan was trying to pin the murders on you?" Tears stood out in George's eyes, and he did not bother to hide them. "Damn it, Christian, you are like a son to me. I love you. It nearly killed me when I almost lost you the last time. I was not going to suffer it again."
"George, you know I have to go to the police now. I have to tell them what I know."
George shook his head sadly. He moved away from Chris and stood up from the couch. He walked back to his desk and leaned against it. "That will accomplish nothing. Callahan will have you thrown out on your ear."
"But---"
"But nothing," George snapped, cutting him off. "Listen, I've been gentle with you up until now because of your delicate condition--- because of what happened before. Maybe I've been too soft, too cautious in the things I say to you. It's time for you to face reality, young man. You're obsessed with this thing. You're chasing shadows and grabbing onto any loose thread you can find. It's unhealthy, and I'm afraid it's going to kill you." George folded his arms across his chest authoritatively. "I had hoped when they closed the case you would begin to accept that Michael and Brianna are gone, but I can see now that it's only served to set you back further." He leveled a stern gaze at Chris. "I want you to contact Dr. Liu the minute you get home. I want you in counseling immediately. You're in a downward spiral, Christian, and you desperately need help."
Chris squared his jaw and glared back defiantly. "We've had this discussion before."
George's expression softened. "Yes, I'm well aware of your opinion on the matter, but the alternative is unthinkable," he said.
Chris wished it was as easy as George made it seem. He wished a shrink could take all that was wrong with his life and make it right again.
He wished his heart could be so easily unbroken. It couldn't though.
Everything that mattered had been stolen from him. Even his unshakable trust in George had suffered a blow.
"I trusted you," Chris whispered. "All my life, I've looked up to you. You became what you are honestly and with hard work, in spite of where you started. After my parents rejected me, after they died, after t
he---" He choked up, unable to speak for a moment. His eyes drifted to the scars on his wrists, and he traced a finger over the rough flesh. "After I tried to kill myself, your love was the only thing that pulled me back."
George returned to the sofa and sat beside Chris. He reached out and took his hand. When Chris looked up into his ice-blue eyes, he could see tears standing out sharply in them. When George spoke, his voice broke with emotion. "I am still that person, little dove. I was trying to protect you. You have to believe me."
Chris looked away. George seemed so sincere. He wanted to believe he was mistaken, that George's actions hadn't been motivated by self-interest, but he was too hurt by the betrayal to make that leap. His eyes turned back to George's and his heart hardened. "No," Chris refused flatly, "I don't believe you. You were protecting yourself and your firm. It had nothing to do with protecting me."
George was stricken by this sharp repudiation. After a brief moment of reflection, he said, "I understand that you feel betrayed. I would too. Would it surprise you to know that I agree? It's been a heavy burden I've carried for a long time. There were many times I wanted to tell you, but I could never bring myself to risk it. It eats me alive to watch you suffering."
Chris laughed mirthlessly. "You lied to me because you love me? You really expect me to believe that?"
George's eyes were sad. "That's exactly what I expect. It's the truth."
Chris pulled his hand out of George's and clenched his jaw. He couldn't stay in this office one minute longer. He stood abruptly and marched toward the door. Before leaving, he turned back and said coldly, "I don't know what the truth is anymore, George."
George rose and tried to speak again, but Chris ignored him. He opened the door and fled into the hallway.
His heart was broken. As he hurried toward the elevator, he couldn't bring himself to turn back, not even for a brief look at the man he regarded as a father. He wanted to understand. He wanted to believe George, but he just couldn't.
"Chris, please, don't leave like this," George begged, following him.
Chris stepped into the elevator and jabbed his finger into a button.
As the doors closed, he looked up and met George's gaze. He didn't attempt to hide his anguish. He let the full measure show. In that one instant, everything in his heart was revealed. Even George, the one person he thought he could count on, had let him down.
The impact of that sorrow rendered George speechless. For some reason, the terrified look on the older man's face reminded Chris of what he'd nearly done the day before. He knew exactly what George was thinking. Good, let him stew on it. He should have told me the truth.
v
Chapter 4
JASON had been in a black mood the whole day. It was the kind of mood that made Lisa walk softly and keep her head down. She'd been working for Jason for two years, which was more than long enough to know when she should stay out of his way. She had no idea what had prompted this latest fit of foul temper, and she was sure he would never tell her, but she couldn't help being curious. Usually it took a lot to push him to this point. Usually it took something called Bradley, but she thought that problem had been solved long ago.
He had arrived at work before she had, which was rare, and he glanced at the clock menacingly when she bustled through the door ten minutes late. Without a word, she'd settled at her desk and busied herself returning phone calls and sorting through the morning's mail, heaving a sigh of relief when he sequestered himself in his office and closed the door. It was his signal that he was not to be bothered under any circumstances.
Late in the afternoon, she looked up in dismay as a chime on the door sounded and a gaunt young man stepped through. She appraised him with interest. This one was definitely a looker, she thought. He was exactly Jason's type, if you could judge by his previous relationship. He seemed frail, though, like he hadn't seen sun or good food in a long time.
"Can I help you?" she asked, sneaking a glance at Jason's calendar.
She didn't remember making an appointment.
"I'm here to see Jason Kingsley," he said, walking toward her.
Her eyes darted toward the barred office door and quickly back to the young man. "Mr. Kingsley isn't in right now, but if you'd like to leave your name---"
"It's important."
"I told you, he isn't in," she said more firmly.
He glowered at her. Then, without a word, he headed purposefully for the closed office door.
"Wait," Lisa called, clambering to her feet and spilling a coffee mug of pens and pencils in the process.
Before she could extricate herself from the chair, the interloper had reached the door and tried the knob. It was locked. He rapped on the wood firmly, and Jason's muffled voice called out, "Go away."
"Mr. Kingsley, it's Chris James. We spoke yesterday. I need to talk to you."
Lisa grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away. "Now you've done it," she said anxiously. "He's going to kill me."
He brushed her hand away and offered her a reassuring grin that brought her up absolutely short. The change in his face was profound. With one small smile, a magical transformation occurred upon the pale, drawn features. Some mysterious reconfiguration swept aside the sallow façade and revealed the handsome, youthful beauty that was hidden just beneath.
She was completely flummoxed. Who was this Chris James fellow?
He said he'd spoken to Jason the day before, and it made her burn to know whether this visit was professional or personal. It sure seemed as if the grouchy spells had been worse since the breakup with Bradley a couple of months ago, and a smile like the one she'd just seen... well, that might be just the thing. Maybe her own life would get a little easier if the effect it had on her also worked on her boss.
The door opened and Jason stood on the threshold, regarding Chris dourly. "What? Do you think I didn't get enough abuse yesterday?" he growled.
Lisa eyed Jason surreptitiously. He looks like hell. Lisa took in the shadow of two days' growth on his chin and the puffy circles beneath his eyes. She stepped back, preparing for trouble.
"Let me guess, you're here to apologize for being such an ass?"
She knew that tone. She took another step backward.
Chris looked up with pleading, sincere eyes. "Actually, that's exactly why I'm here. Do you have a few minutes?"
Clearly, this response---and the vulnerable, contrite manner in which it was delivered---weren't at all what Jason was expecting. For a long while, he just stood there, speechless.
Lisa was impressed. Now that's a trick I'd like to learn.
Seeming to recover his senses, Jason motioned her away. "It's okay."
She backed toward her desk, still unsure. Something ugly had happened between these two yesterday, something that had caused Jason a sleepless night---and the way he'd just softened at a kind word from the stranger....
Interesting development. She took her seat. Interesting indeed.
She'd have to keep an eye on this situation.
"COME on in," Jason said, stepping aside.
Chris was surprised at the orderliness of the workspace. The desk was clear of clutter, and the bookshelves were carefully arranged. A rack containing potted plants stood in front of the window, and a comfortable-looking sofa sat against the wall. The tidiness of the office was a sharp contradiction to the image of Jason Kingsley that had formed in his mind based on their meeting the day before.
"Why the change of heart?" Jason asked without preamble. "After your tantrum last night, I never expected to see you again." He motioned toward a chair.
"I've been to see George MacQuery," Chris said as they seated themselves on opposite sides of Jason's desk.
"Ahh," Jason murmured softly. "He backed up the things I told you, then." It wasn't a question. Jason was obviously well aware of MacQuery's knowledge of Michael's indiscretion.
"And then some. He told me things I never would have believed a year ago." Chris slumped into the chair and
stared into his lap. He felt like an empty husk. "I trusted him," he said softly.
He looked up at Jason imploringly. Jason said, "Don't be too hard on him. MacQuery is a good man. I'm sure he meant well."
"I don't need to be sheltered. I'm not a child, Mr. Kingsley." Chris was still trying to come to grips with the betrayal. He wasn't quite ready to forgive---not yet.
"Let's cut it out with the Mr. Kingsley stuff. Gives me the creeps. Call me Jason, please."
Chris smiled contritely. "Sorry."
Jason sat forward in his chair and placed his elbows on the desk. "I probably blurted out a little too much yesterday. I've never been mistaken for someone with tact."
"You'd make a lousy psychiatrist," Chris agreed. "But forget about it. I know now, and I'm dealing with it."
"Actually, you do seem better today. More together or something."
"I want the truth. Seems like everyone's given up except me. Except you." Chris leveled his eyes on Jason. "So if you have information, I'm ready to hear it."
"How much do you already know about Michael's involvement with Johan Brunner?"
Chris related what he'd learned from his visit with George.
Surprisingly, the words came more easily now that he'd had some time to think about it. The shame and guilt he'd initially felt were gone. He was much more at ease with Jason too. There was no judgment, no malice, no recrimination on the other man's face, just quiet interest. Even the egotism didn't seem as pronounced, and Chris wondered if he'd imagined it.
When he'd finished, Jason leaned back and regarded him thoughtfully. "You weren't ever in love with Blake, were you?"
Chris was surprised. He'd only just realized it himself earlier in the day on his way to visit George. How was he so transparent to this man?
Although his initial instinct was to deny it, he didn't. Instead, he shook his head. "I loved him in my own way, I suppose, but you're right. I was never in love with him." Chris shook his head. "Michael wasn't the kind of person who would have appreciated the difference."