The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set)
Page 52
Another chuckle. He got my sarcasm. “That’s my next project,” he deadpanned. “Seriously, Spatium would have become an instant phenomenon. It would be all everyone talked about, and not for just the next news cycle.”
He paused a second.
“Do you want me to guess?”
“I suppose I like holding my audience members at the edges of their seats.” He set his drink on a coaster, opened the folder, and scanned the top page. Then he looked up at me, holding his finger and thumb an inch apart. “We were just this close to merging the top four space exploration companies from around the world into one cohesive unit, all focused on one thing: setting up a new world on Mars, the moon, and other similar planetary objects. Basically expanding the human race with colonies throughout space.”
I nodded, knowing other private companies had begun to draw up similar plans for Mars.
“You’re skeptical. I can see that. You’re probably thinking I’ve seen too many Star Trek movies.”
“We all need inspiration,” I said.
“When talks first started, many of the executives at these companies were almost as skeptical, but there were a few of us who thought of what we could accomplish if we blended our knowledge, collaboratively working to achieve a goal for humanity, not just one country. We truly believed that it’s not about whose country does what; it’s about how we reshape the future of the human race. And if we can turn the attention of everyone on the planet to colonizing space, then maybe, just maybe, some of the destruction and greed on this planet can be refocused toward a new, collective, and positive goal.”
If Dillon had passed around an offering plate, I would have dug through the bottom of my purse to scrounge together what pittance I could give. “You’re very passionate about this cause. You certainly have me convinced that it’s worthwhile.”
“I’m not naïve. It’s not just some pie-in-the-sky dream. We have the vision…not only to provide future worlds for the human race but to also monetize it. To make it the next great frontier for our global economy.”
He let the folder drop to his desk, then wiped his face. “Unfortunately, the dream most likely will not become reality. And that is what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I put a hand to my chest. “That’s sad to hear, but I’m not able to be a potential investor at this point in time. Not enough liquid cash.”
He shook his head, then sighed.
It didn’t appear he got my sarcasm that time, or perhaps my delivery was off.
He continued. “There were three other companies involved in our discussion. One from China, one from South America, and one from Europe. ESO—European Space Odyssey—they were the ones that shared the same vision as me and my top executives.”
“So, why not get it done? And why is it relevant to me and Cristina watching your daughter?”
Dillon glanced at his lawyer, who hadn’t moved. His eyes were still on me. He was beginning to annoy me—more than usual—but I tried not to show it.
“Claudio Belsito, that’s why,” he said, turning his head to look out the window, where long shadows from the sun had been replaced with spotlights dotting the lush landscape. How long had we been here?
He continued before I felt compelled to ask if I was supposed to know this Claudio fellow.
“He’s the chairman of the board of ESO, their founder and visionary.”
“So, he’s kind of your equal.”
He picked up his drink, taking a quick sip. “From your perspective, I can see why you’d say that.”
It appeared that I’d poked his ego. “Sorry if that wasn’t a flattering comparison.”
“No, that’s quite all right.” He exhaled. “I shared with you all of his good qualities. Unfortunately, I’ve become quite familiar with his alter-ego.”
Ross blinked, which ignited my pulse. “I’m listening.”
“For all of his brilliance, Claudio is narcissistic. He’s maniacal and will stop at nothing to get at what he wants. And I mean nothing.”
I tried to read Dillon’s face. All I saw was disappointment mixed with anger. “That’s supposed to mean what exactly?” I asked.
“As we got closer to finalizing the deal, his crazed personality began to show itself. He treated everyone around him like a servant. He was belligerent. He wasn’t about to collaborate on anything. He wanted to run this unit like he was king of the world.”
“Without you?”
He nodded. “I was humbled, embarrassed even, that I had allowed the negotiations to go as far as they did without understanding who Claudio truly was.”
“And then you backed out.”
“Many people were upset with me, but none more so than Claudio. He knew that without Spatium, the entire vision for a globally backed space colony wouldn’t come to fruition.”
“That sucks,” I said as Cristina reentered the room. She licked her lips, while gripping her phone so hard I could see the whites of her knuckles.
“Claudio isn’t just a tough businessman. I think…actually I’m rather certain that he’s got ties to organized crime, only to the extent of furthering his interests with governments, large corporations, and anyone else who gets in his way.”
“You too?”
“He called me after the deal fell apart and what he told me…literally made me shake.”
I tilted my head. “Can you share?”
“Honestly, Dillon, don’t you think we need to keep this in house?” Ross said, flapping his arms around. “What good is it going to do to let the likes of Ivy Nash know your personal business? We’re in a fight for your life on these sexual-assault charges and showing our cards on anything is not a move I can endorse.”
“Herbert, I told you earlier, it’s not your decision. I’m sorry, but she has to know. It’s the right thing to do. Besides, they already know about my crazy wife.”
Ross growled, then resumed his motionless glare at me.
At my side, Cristina became fidgety, but I kept my gaze on Dillon.
“Ivy, Cristina…Claudio told me that he knows people who could, and I quote, ‘make your life very complicated, very dangerous.’ He then gave me two days to change my mind. I didn’t change my mind, and nothing happened to me, so I figured he was just blowing smoke up my ass.”
“And now what do you think?” I asked.
Ross diverted his eyes away from me for a split second as Dillon lifted his glass, finding it nearly empty.
“Did I ask a tough question?”
“Dillon’s wondering—and I’m wondering—if this Italian lunatic might have framed Dillon for this sex-assault crime,” Ross said as he let his arms drop to his sides, his hands smacking his thighs.
“And while that’s beyond reprehensible,” Dillon said, “I’m more concerned about Emma. If Claudio could pull off something like what Herbert just described, then what would stop him from hurting the person I care about most in this world?”
“Emma might be a target,” I said as more of statement than a question.
“Just to be clear, we’ve seen no evidence that anyone has been tracking Emma, or shown up at her preschool, or even asked about her,” Dillon said. “But if this is something that frightens you, then I’d completely understand if you bow out.”
I glanced at Cristina, who gave me a quick nod before looking at her phone again. She was dying to tell me something. I thought about what Dillon had shared. Was he telling us the truth? Ross acted like it was a distinct possibility, not that his integrity was a shining example of mankind. Despite his position in society, Dillon appeared remarkably genuine, both in his passion for his vision of another world and especially for his little girl. Or was it his current legal position that triggered his openness? First his wife goes off the deep end and comes within minutes of selling their daughter to a stranger; then he’s arrested for a violent crime. Where Claudio Belsito fit into all of this, I had no idea. But keeping Emma safe was important to me too.
I said, “We’ll
take care of Emma as agreed.”
“Wonderful. I’ll drink to that.” Dillon lifted his empty glass.
Cristina gripped my arm, pulling me out of the room.
“What’s wrong?”
She bit at the inside of her cheek, then said, “I got a text from Mom. She said she’s sorry and wants to talk to me tonight. She’s reaching out on Mother’s Day, Ivy.”
She pulled me close, hugged me with everything she had. Almost eighteen months. That was how long Cristina had waited to hear those words: I’m sorry. Her mom had committed the ultimate act of endangering her child—allowing her to be sexually assaulted. It didn’t get any worse. On top of that, she’d essentially introduced hardcore drugs to her daughter.
I’d seen a lot of things during my stint as a special investigator for CPS, and experienced even more unthinkable acts as a kid who had somehow survived growing up through the system. Having developed a close friendship over the last several months with Cristina, part of me wished her mother had not reached out to reestablish their relationship. I didn’t want to see Cristina hurt again. She was like the little sister I never had, someone I wanted to protect and offer guidance to—although everyone who interacted with Cristina knew there was only so much direction she’d take.
Somehow Cristina had found it in herself to push the horrific memories aside, at least for the moment, in the hope she would reconcile with her mother.
“So are you going to respond?”
Cristina scrunched up her face. “Not sure. Still thinking about it. I want to…I think. Yeah, I think I really want to.”
“Well, the ball’s in your court. Let me know if you need to talk it out some more.”
That was when I really understood the unbreakable connection between mother and daughter.
7
A kid jumped off the swing set and ran over to his mother. The light of a full moon hovering just above the tree line allowed Cristina to see two silhouettes in the elementary school play area; she could hear the mom reprimanding the boy. He responded with, “I didn’t know it was dark outside.”
She giggled to herself as she watched the pair march down the street and around the corner. She wondered if she’d used that lame excuse on her mom back in the day, when her mom was more of a real mom and less of a parasite on society. On her.
Cristina had decided to give her mom the benefit of the doubt and responded to her mom’s text, agreeing to meet. But she’d also decided not to involve Ivy. This was something she had to do on her own.
She walked under the branches of a Bradford pear tree, a light breeze fluttering the flowers and leaves. Her mom had asked to meet at Cristina’s old elementary school. Cristina figured her mom was simply looking for a neutral place, away from her home, away from the man who’d raped Cristina more than a year ago. Jesse. The thought of his name restricted the flow of air into her lungs. Resentment, even bitter anger, still coursed through her veins. And not just at him. More at her mom.
But Mom reached out to me, made the effort to reconcile. She cares about me. Maybe she’ll kick the bastard out of her house and start a new life with me in it.
Cristina knew her mom didn’t have one ounce of self-worth, which is why she could never kick her drug habit, or let go of the one guy who had enabled her behavior for so many years. Drugs had robbed her mom of so much, but they had also planted the seeds of bitterness. The world was always at fault for something. The only time she could recall hearing her mom laugh at anything in the last five years was when she had imbibed, snorted, or shot enough crap into her body that she didn’t care anymore. All of her mom’s troubles, all of her failures, would fade into oblivion. Until she woke up with a hangover that sent her spiraling all over again.
But maybe tonight was the moment when she would tell Cristina that it was all about to change. Maybe her mother had finally reached a point where she realized another snort up her nose or needle in her arm didn’t make her life any better. Maybe she’d finally seen the path to living a sober life. A life without Jesse in it.
She rubbed her eyes and hoped like hell that she wasn’t getting her expectations up, only to find her mom by the school dumpster with a rubber band around her arm, looking for Cristina to share a needle full of heroin.
She pulled a leaf off the tree and pulled it apart, letting the pieces fall to the sidewalk. She decided that for once in her life she was going to allow hope and optimism to drown out the inner voice that always expected the worse.
As a dog barked in the distance, she walked up to the front entrance, peering around the large stone support columns and even through glass of the front door. No sign of Mom. She removed her phone and shined her flashlight down the front wall in both directions, hoping she wouldn’t find her mom coiled up in a ball, trembling from the aftereffects of another bender. She wasn’t there, and Cristina sighed in relief. Her mom had given her a time of nine o’clock. It was now fifteen minutes past. Jesse and his party-animal friends quite often would be passed out by this time of night—they’d always preferred to get an early start. But it was possible that he was still awake, cranking the music, downing shot after shot of Everclear. That crap was the closest thing to two-hundred proof, and he drank it like it was lemonade. If Mom were to walk out at the wrong time, when he was high, drunk, or both, he might jump her shit and drill her with questions. Or smack her around a bit. Or have one of his buddies…
“Stop it, Cristina,” she said, gritting her teeth. She was pissed at herself for letting her negative thoughts grab her by the throat so quickly.
She thought about texting her mom, asking if she’d arrived yet, but that seemed risky. What if she’d left her phone at home and Jesse saw it? If he thought someone was double-crossing him, he’d go ballistic.
So, where could Mom be?
A song came to mind, and she began to click her tongue to the beat of “Let Me Go,” an Avril Lavigne tune, as she strolled around the perimeter of the school. She passed the playground area where she’d seen the little boy being scolded by his mother. The fenced-in area was vacant now, but both swings were swaying a bit from gusts of wind.
She took note of the slide. It seemed smaller now that she’d grown up. It had been repainted, but it was still the same slide from when she was just five. She recalled the chanting of her name as her classmates urged her to climb up the steps and take the plunge down the slippery surface. Not one to back down from a challenge, she’d made it to the top and looked straight down. Her eyes bulged, and she felt like they might pop out of her sockets. It might as well have been the edge of cliff she was looking over. A bright sun bounced off the metal surface, nearly blinding her. She took a hard swallow and let it rip. She flew off the end, tumbling head over heels and scraping her knee in the process. Now that she thought about it, that might have been the only time she’d cried at school.
Moving at a quicker pace, she stepped through the teacher parking lot, then back onto a bed of grass and weeds. The elongated branches of a large, old willow tree draped over the sidewalk and a nearby bench. The tree had to be at least thirty years old—probably more. Good to see they hadn’t torn it down to expand the school or add a few more spaces to the parking lot.
She giggled, recalling her first kiss that took place just behind the tree, out of the direct line of sight from the school and the playground. It was fifth grade, and that cute boy, Edward, had been holding her hand around school for an entire week. It was nothing more than a peck, but it still qualified.
Placing her hand on the trunk, she peered to the other side of the massive tree. A squirrel squealed just a foot from her face. She jumped back and stumbled over large roots jutting out from the ground.
“Dammit, squirrel,” she said, finding her balance again.
Following the path around back, she scanned the area by the dumpster, including an inlet where trucks would drop off supplies. No sign of Mom. She scratched her head and stared at her phone. Should she take the risk and text her?
Two laps around the field, boys and girls running in the same race. She hung with the lead pack, trailing three boys by about ten yards after taking the final turn. Then she saw her mom standing at the end, jumping up and down, clapping, cheering her on. She didn’t even know her mom knew about field day, let alone gave a damn about it. But seeing her mother’s happy face gave Cristina the kind of confidence she’d never felt before.
A burst of adrenaline had helped her find a gear she hadn’t known existed. Running with nothing to lose, she zoomed past the boys like they were dragging concrete blocks. She crossed the finish line in first place. She remembered leaping into her mother’s arms, unbridled joy filling her body.
That was one of the good times. Maybe the best of times. A tear bubbled in her eye.
She swallowed back some emotion and walked a few steps, but she stopped the moment she felt her phone vibrating in her hand. It was a text from Mom, and her heart skipped faster.
Down by the backstop. Your greatest triumph. Join me, darling.
Darling. That was what she’d called Cristina when she was younger, running around like a wild child. Memories flooded her mind as she squinted toward the back of the open field. The moon had slid behind a patch of clouds, reducing the ambient light. She jogged down a slope and onto the field. Woods thick with trees and brush bordered the sides and back of the field. She could only hear her shoes flapping against wiry weeds. It sounded similar to when she’d affixed a baseball card to the rear frame of her blue bicycle, and it had flapped against the spokes of the back wheel.
All of the thoughts that pinged her mind were a throwback to her younger years. A time when every moment of every day wasn’t filled with unrelenting anxiety from dodging her mom’s tremendous mood swings or treacherous friends. Cristina ran faster, and as the breeze dried the sweat dripping down her face, she was reminded that her whole life had not been a chaotic, frenzied battle to survive, as she’d convinced herself in the last year. Her early years, while not perfect, did contain at least a handful of memories that added meaning to her life, had given her at least small doses of love and joy and excitement.