The Edge of Ruin

by Melinda Snodgrass

  Richard leaned back in the chair far enough to cause the springs to squeak, and laced his fingers behind his head. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice was filled with amusement.

  “Well, I …”

  The smile flickered briefly, like a glimpse of sun through clouds, and the young man said, “Richard’s been abandoned by his daddy, so he’s going to rush off and find a replacement. Kenntnis is the logical choice, so of course Richard is going to go in and get captured by the bad guys. Does that pretty much sum it up?”

  All Grenier could manage was a slow nod.

  “Actually we’re going home.”

  “What about alerting the government?”

  “I did my best. I prodded the dinosaur as best I could. No, I think Eddie and his kind are the better bet for us. Lumina has scientists all over the world. We’re gathering them up, and they’ll figure out a way to free Kenntnis. Then we’ll be back.”

  Grenier was suddenly aware of how badly his back hurt and how weak his knees had gone. He dropped into a chair. “I’m so relieved. And …” His mind searched for a less pejorative word than he’d been going to use. “And impressed.”

  Again the smile appeared. “You could have said it.”

  “What?”

  “What you were really going to say—amazed. Now get out of here, and start packing.”

  * * *

  Pamela pressed her cell phone tighter to her ear, tossed the sweater into her suitcase, and sank down on the bed as her sister said, “He took everything. Paul’s college fund, my retirement, his retirement. He took out a second mortgage on the house.” Panic had turned Amelia’s voice into a shrill flute.

  “What did Brent do with the money?” Pamela asked.

  “There was this business deal, the United Emirates Fund. We ran it by Drew.” Pamela’s stomach gave a roll at the sound of the name. “And he said it looked good, so I agreed to the first payment, but there were more, so many more, and Brent didn’t tell me about them. He just took all our money!” The words became an anguished cry. “Oh, Pam, we’re losing the house!”

  “How did Brent even find out about this deal?” Pamela asked.

  “He met this man at the racquet club. They had lunch together, and the man invited him in. You know how Brent is, he likes to feel important.”

  “What about Papa? Is he still there?” Pamela asked.

  “Yes, but what can he do? He doesn’t have the money to pay off the loan, and we can’t even go home with him because his house is gone, too. Burned down.” Tears thickened Amelia’s words. “Papa forbid me to call Richard, but I have to. We’ve got no place else to turn.”

  “Well, call him.”

  “I was hoping you’d talk to him first. Brent’s been calling and calling him, and Richard’s never called him back. I didn’t know if Richard was mad at me, or …” Amelia’s voice trailed away.

  “No, no, he’s not angry,” Pamela said quickly. “He’s just had so much … he’s been so busy … don’t worry, we’re going to fix this.”

  Pamela snapped shut the phone, and went in search of her brother. She found him in his bedroom. He was also packing one-handed while he talked on his iPhone.

  “Yes, Kenzo, I understand. If you think that’s more secure, then let’s do it—”

  “I’ve got to talk to you,” Pamela said. He waved her down, and she added in a much sharper tone, “Now!”

  “Let me call you back,” Richard said. “No, no, go ahead and get started, we’ll just talk in more depth later.” He turned to Pamela. “What?”

  “Amelia just called me. Brent’s managed to lose everything—house, savings, everything—in some business deal.”

  Now it was Richard’s turn to sink down on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, crap, that must be what Brent kept calling about.”

  “Yeah, it would have been helpful if you’d taken the damn call. So now you can call Kenzo back, and arrange to have him pay off what they owe and fix this.” Richard was frowning at the far wall. “Are you listening? Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “Yeah, okay, we’ll take care of the money, but I’m wondering if it goes deeper than that. Do you have any details?”

  “Just that it was called the United Emirates Fund.”

  Richard moved to the door of the bedroom and called down the hall, “Dagmar, check out something for me.”

  She stuck her head out of her room. “What?”

  “The United Emirates Fund. And find out how they got a line on my brother-in-law, Brent van Gelder.”

  “Right-ho.”

  “And make it fast,” Richard added. He took out his phone and punched in a number. “Jerry, file a new flight plan. We’re not leaving right away, and we may have to add a stop in Boston.” He ended the call and reacted to her look. “What?”

  “Papa’s there.”

  “I know.”

  “If you have to go to the house, I’ll come with you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  RICHARD

  Even just four years as a cop had made me suspicious and paranoid. I couldn’t imagine what I would have been like if I’d put in my twenty. Dagmar got back to me, and it was just what I’d expected. Drew had been behind it all. He’d covered his tracks pretty well, but I had the resources of Lumina behind me. Between Dagmar and Kenzo they had the threads untangled in four hours.

  War had been declared on me and mine, and Drew had been one of the soldiers for the other side. I’d deal with him soon enough, but right now I needed to protect my family.

  As the big limo rolled quietly down the Boston street, I had the sword drawn just in case. Pamela sat next to me. Joseph drove while Rudi rode shotgun. The blade of the sword was deep matte black with just the hint of lights deep in the darkness. There wasn’t a net of swirling light in the air around the blade. That reassured me; when magic or Old Ones were present the lights came out. I sheathed the sword and put the hilt in the holster at the small of my back. What I was going to say to my sister and brother-in-law was crazy enough—I didn’t need to be waving around a sword while I said it.

  Trees overhung the street, and every available curb was taken up with parked cars. The long line of redbrick row houses were all dark except for a few porch lights spilling their light down the steps leading up to high stoops.

  “I don’t know why they didn’t get a house with a yard after Paul was born. Get out of the center of the city,” Pamela said in that exasperated tone siblings reserve for the perceived foolishness of each other.

  “Because this one’s close to the hospital,” I answered.

  I’d phoned the hospital to make sure Amelia hadn’t been called in for an emergency surgery. She hadn’t. Dr. van Gelder was at home.

  “That’s it,” Pamela said pointing.

  Joseph braked, and we climbed out. The cold, damp air carried the scent of brine off the bay, rotting leaves, car exhaust, and wood smoke. I’d grown up with these East Coast smells, and now I found myself longing for the bite of winter-dry air, turquoise skies, and the smell of burning piñon.

  Just a few more hours. The Gulfstream was parked at Logan International. Since Syd and Sam had opted to stay in Washington, I had plenty of room for my family.

  “Just shark around,” Pamela added. “We shouldn’t be long.”

  “No, ma’am, I’ll double-park. I don’t want to be around the block if you need me.”

  “Joseph’s right,” I said. “Come on. It’s eleven o’clock at night. There’s not going to be a lot of traffic.”

  Side by side we climbed the steps up to the front door. The brass knocker held an elaborate swirl of initials, V and G overlaid on an O. Pamela hesitated with her hand on the knocker.

  “How do you think Papa is going to react?”

  “Badly.”

  “Are you … scared?”

  I analyzed that. What I felt was the churn of bile in the pit of my stomach. I was having a hard time f
iguring out what emotion was fueling the burn. “Nooo,” I said slowly. “I feel anxious because I don’t like fighting. But I’ll fight if I have to. So knock.”

  The hammering of the knocker against the brass plate seemed to echo down the street. I heard footsteps approaching.

  “Who is it?” My sister Amelia’s voice, soft and gentle. She had always been the turtledove trying to broker peace between Pamela and me.

  “Richard.”

  “And Pamela.”

  The door was flung open, and Amelia grabbed me in a tight hug. If she’d looked tired and old in December at our mother’s funeral, she looked like a gray ghost now. She was still dressed in her Professional Woman Uniform of knee-length skirt, sensible pumps, sweater, and a gold chain at her throat. “You could have just called. You didn’t have to come. But oh, I’m so glad to see you. Come in, come in.”

  We stepped into the entry hall that ran straight through to the back of the house. To the right a set of stairs hugged the wall, with an Oriental runner splashing color down the middle of the steps. The left wall was punctuated with doorways—living room, dining room, kitchen—and overhead the crystal teardrops in the small chandelier flickered with rainbow colors. From the living room there was the flicker of light from a television, and I heard the Tonight Show music. I swallowed hard. It had always seemed like Amelia had telepathy.

  “Papa’s gone to bed,” she said quickly.

  “Who was it?” I heard Brent call.

  And then he emerged from the living room, tying the belt of his bathrobe, one foot scuffing for a fleece-lined leather slipper. He was sporting several days of beard growth, and dark pouches hung beneath his eyes. I’d been a cop for enough years that I’d seen every variety of despair and depression. Brent was sporting them all. His face hardened when he saw me.

  “So, you couldn’t return my calls when it would have made a difference. Why’d you turn up? Just to gloat?”

  “First, I’m sorry I didn’t call. Second, you were deliberately targeted and led on so you’d lose your money, but third, it wouldn’t have happened, Brent, if you weren’t such a damn moron.”

  “I don’t have to listen—”

  “Shut up.” My sisters jumped, Brent took a step backward, and I felt perversely pleased since he’s six inches taller than I am. “Actually, you do if I’m going to bail you out. You’ve been living off my sister for eleven years, always looking for the big score. Well, butch up, get a job, and start acting like a man—but you’re going to have to do it in New Mexico.”

  Brent just kept opening and closing his mouth. Amelia was frowning. “What do you mean we were targeted?”

  “I’ll explain it all on the flight,” I said.

  “Flight? We’re not going anywhere—” Amelia began, while at the same time Brent said, “New Mexico? Why the hell would we go to New Mexico? It’s the middle of fucking nowhere. We might as well be on the moon.”

  “You may end up glad that it’s remote. This mess you got into made me realize that you’re in danger, and next time it might not be as benign as just bankrupting you. I need you where I can keep an eye on you, and keep you safe.” Brent was looking sulky again. Probably because I used the word “mess.”

  “Richard, this is ridiculous,” Amelia said. “I have a job here. Paul’s in school, we have a house—”

  “Actually, you don’t, unless I pay off the mortgages. This is not a negotiation. This is me rescuing you, or at least doing a preemptive rescue. They’ll use you against me, and it might work. I don’t know if I could let them hurt or kill my family, so I just can’t risk it.”

  “Kill us? What are you talking about?” The fear in Amelia’s voice had the words emerging in a strangled croak. “And who are they?”

  “I really don’t have time to explain all of this—”

  Pamela laid a hand on my arm. “I’ll do it.” She put an arm around Amelia’s waist. “Meli, the world has changed. You really aren’t safe, and only Richard can keep you safe. Why don’t you go in the kitchen and start some water for tea. I’ll be there in just a minute.” She gave our older sister a push toward the kitchen door. Brent followed her, but, of course, he always had.

  Pamela turned to me. “We need to enlist Papa if we’re going to have any hope of convincing them.”

  I knew she was right, but I felt that clutch of fear that, when I looked back, seemed to be the primary emotion associated with my father. Just as suddenly it was gone and I wanted to talk to him.

  The narrow staircase seemed claustrophobic. I trailed my hand along the wall beneath the ascending framed family photo gallery, and began marshaling my thoughts. I didn’t exactly know what I was going to say, but I had the shape of it. Perhaps I wasn’t as confident as I thought, because my knock was a breath of sound.

  “Yes?”

  He didn’t sound like he’d been asleep. Maybe he’d been up here all the time listening to us, but then I remembered that he had always awakened instantly. You could roll him out of bed at 4:00 A.M. and he’d give you a perfect sound bite. It was the one trait I shared with him.

  I didn’t answer him; I just walked into the guest bedroom. He sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. I noted that the ceramic base was painted with flowers, and the carved Chinese rug on the floor had a floral pattern. Amelia’s two china patterns were also floral, and the bedspreads and even the sheets in all the bedrooms. But she lived in a row house with no yard. It’s crazy how your mind will flit away when you’re faced with something you don’t want to do.

  “What is this, sir?” My father’s voice was icy.

  I wanted to match his cool, but I found anger blazing through my body, so intense it made me light-headed.

  “You’re going to go downstairs and tell Amelia that she has to move her family to New Mexico,” I ordered. “Because she’ll do exactly what you tell her to.”

  “I will not have you influencing my grandson.”

  “And I won’t let you get him killed.” That shocked him, and for an instant his features sagged. “Don’t act like an ignorant cracker. You wrote the brief on gay adoption when Alabama tried to strip parental rights and remove the kids. Paul is in no danger from me, and you know that. We’re being torn apart, and Drew was behind it. He lured Brent into this disastrous deal, and … well, you know what he did to us. He’s working for the Old Ones. But since subtlety failed, they may try more direct measures. My family isn’t safe. They’ll use them against me, and like I told Amelia, I don’t think … no, I know I don’t have the strength to resist them if they threaten my family. So they’re coming back with me so I can keep an eye on them.”

  The covers were thrown back so violently that they looked like a tsunami wave breaking across the footboard. Papa swung his legs out of bed and headed for the closet. “Very well, you’ve made your case.” He pulled his suitcase out of the closet. “But I’ll be watching—”

  “Actually, sir, you might notice that I didn’t include you.”

  He froze, and his back stiffened. Slowly, slowly he turned to face me. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m done with you,” I heard myself saying. It wasn’t what I’d expected, but it felt right. I could have left it at that, but all the years of pent-up anxiety and anger clamored to be expressed. “For years I’ve tried to figure out what you wanted from me. I did everything to please you, including giving up everything I wanted. But then I got hurt, and I realized I couldn’t live afraid anymore. You’re the last thing I’m afraid of, so it’s got to end. You never have loved me, so I’m not giving up all that much.”

  “That’s not true. I’m not … demonstrative, I show my love in other ways, by trying to teach you your duty—”

  “No, you tried to make me into you. You’re a complete narcissist. What you wanted was to look in my face and be looking in a mirror. All this crap about service and duty. Yeah, you meant it, but it was my duty to serve you by being a reflection of you.”

  I couldn’t read anything i
n the spare planes of that face. I started for the door. I put my hand on the knob, hesitated, then turned back to face him one last time. “Oh, by the way, I didn’t quit the police force when you ordered me to. I told Weber to shit-can my letter of resignation.” I opened my coat and displayed the pistol. “See, I’m still me. Not you.”

  Paul’s room was at the far end of the hall. A night-light cast a soft glow, and on the ceiling stick-on stars glowed in the faint light. Star Wars posters hung on the walls, and the floor was littered with toys. I caught my heel on a toy truck, and struggled to keep my balance. The little boy, sprawled in the bed, didn’t stir. One bare foot thrust from beneath the covers, and Paul was muttering. He was in the throes of a dream, and it looked to be fun because he was smiling.

  I gently touched my nephew’s shoulder. “Paul, Paul, wake up.”

  The gummed lashes pulled slowly apart. Sleep was congealed in the corners of his eyes. “Uncle Richard …” It was both a question and a statement.

  “Paul, you have to get dressed now.”

  The boy looked to the window and frowned. “Is it snowing? Is that why it’s so dark?”

  “No, it’s still night, but we have to go.” I threw back the down comforter and helped the child to his feet.

  “Where are we going?” Paul mumbled around a yawn. He pulled open a drawer and pulled out underwear.

  “You’re coming to New Mexico.”

  “There are cowboys and Indians there, aren’t there?” I helped him tug a sweater over his head, flattening the tousled hair.

  “Yes.”

  “Will I get to see them?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Do you have a suitcase?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh. On the shelf in the closet.”

  I grabbed the chair from the desk, stood on it, and unearthed the case. “Let’s pack some of your toys. Just your favorites, ’cause we can’t take all of them right now.” The lower lip protruded and trembled. “Everything’s going to be sent to you, and if anything gets lost I’ll buy you new ones,” I promised.