He wasn't given the chance.
In the limousine, there was a disturbance in the air, a change in the silence.
Beside him, he sensed Elizabeth bristle.
George looked at his wife, saw her looking out the window beside her and followed her gaze with his own.
There, at the crowded street comer, was a newspaper stand. On the front page of the Post was a picture of Celina and Eric Parker, both standing outside Redman International's gilded entrance, arms intertwined. They were alive, in love and smiling.
The banner headline was huge. One simple word: COINCIDENCE?
George reached for Elizabeth's hand.
As the light turned green and the car lurched forward, his gaze moved to the rack next to the Post. On the front page of the Daily News was another picture, this one of him, Elizabeth and Leana.
The banner headline screamed out at him.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
When Leana left to meet her parents, the morning was warm and overcast. She stepped onto the sidewalk and into the waiting limousine. “Redman International,” she said to the driver, and felt her stomach tighten as they pulled away from the curb.
She was dressed casually yet professionally. When she met them, she didn’t want to appear as if she was trying too hard to make the statement that she had made it and moved on, even though she knew she was.
She had changed since the opening of her father’s building. She’d moved out of their home, found an apartment of her own, landed a job with her father’s rival, married Michael Archer.
She was independent. She had accomplished her goals and she’d done it without her their help. Never again would she need her parents to back her financially. Never again would she have to rely on them. There was freedom there, but a kind of sadness as well. Why did she feel that only she would recognize her accomplishments and not her parents, the very people she most wanted to recognize them?
The Redman International Building came into sight.
Leana saw a large group of reporters gathered outside its entrance. She hesitated, knowing that if she was going to see her parents, she would have to go through this pool of sharks and take the brunt of their questions. Resisting the thought of turning back, she asked the driver to pull as close to the entrance as possible. When the car stopped, she didn’t wait for the driver. She opened the door, lowered her head and stepped out.
She pushed forward, ready for the assault.
But it didn’t come. As she neared the crowd, a sleek black limousine, followed by two unmarked police cars, pulled to the curb.
Leana stepped back and watched in surprise as the doors to the two unmarked cars shot open and several men stepped out.
Holding the crowd of reporters at bay, creating a human shield around the limousine’s rear passenger door, the men protected her mother and father as they left the car and began moving toward the entrance.
The crowd was relentless. Microphones raised, cameras flashing, voices rising above the increasing din, they pressed forward, shouting at her mother, screaming at her father, trying in vain to gain some insight into Celina’s death, on the takeover of WestTex, on their reaction to Eric Parker’s death.
The police were losing control. The place was erupting. In horror, Leana watched the crowd shift suddenly and knock her mother to the ground. George tried to help his wife to her feet, but the photographers knew a shot of her on the pavement was gold. They swarmed, making it virtually impossible for him to help her. Their cameras snapped, flashed and captured the moment for a world hungry for more.
Leana sprang forward, forcing her way through the crowd.
There was a moment when no one recognized her, when she was able to squeeze through and help her mother to her feet-and then, for an instant, everything went still as realization crossed the faces of seventy-five people. The outcast was here.
Elizabeth looked at her daughter in wide-eyed disbelief. A camera went off. George said Leana’s name just as the situation blew.
The crowd started jumping, thrashing, taking photo after photo, knowing what an opportunity this was and refusing to miss it. The police pushed the crowd back, threatened them, determined to gain control.
When a path finally cleared, Leana grasped her mother’s hand and they charged toward the entrance with George at their side, not stopping until they were safely inside and the doors were closed behind them.
For a moment, nothing was said.
Mother and father and daughter looked at one another, still shaken by what had just happened. Outside, the press were jammed against the windows, vying for position, recording everything that was happening inside.
“I thought you were hurt,” Leana said to her mother. “I thought they were hurting you.”
“I’m all right,” Elizabeth said. “I’m fine.”
“But they pushed you,” Leana said.
Elizabeth glanced down at the tear in her black dress, at the scrape on her leg and then looked back at Leana. She seemed to hesitate, then she walked over and held her youngest daughter tightly.
Leana felt overwhelmed by her mother’s embrace. She looked at her father, but sensed a cool distance. George was staring at her.
“I’m sorry,” Leana said to her mother. “Michael and I came as soon as we received Harold’s call.”
Elizabeth pulled back, brushed a lock of hair from her daughter’s forehead, but she didn’t acknowledge Leana’s marriage. Instead, she held Leana’s face in her hands.
“Have they learned anything yet?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Not yet,” she said. “But they will.”
“When I saw you fall, I didn’t know what to think. First the spotlights, now Celina. I thought someone got to you.” Her voice thickened. She looked over at her father. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt either of you.”
George looked away.
The slight was like a slap to Leana’s face. She tried to still the anger rising within her, but she couldn’t. “Is there something you want to say to me, Dad?” she asked.
George looked at his daughter, moved to speak, but decided to let it pass. He began walking toward the family elevator, which was behind him.
And that’s all it took. Leana went after him.
She moved past Elizabeth. Besides those members of security who had followed them inside, the lobby was otherwise empty.
Leana’s voice-high and angry-echoed in the enormous space. “Don’t walk away from me,” she said. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.”
Her father stopped and turned. “All right,” he said. “I want to know why you’re going to work for Louis Ryan.”
“Why?” Leana said. “Because you threw me out. Because I need work in order to eat and have a place to sleep. Because Uncle Harold suggested I contact him. Louis offered me a job and I took it.”
“And so he did,” George said. “And what exactly is that job, Leana?”
As if you don’t know. “I’ll be running his new hotel for him.”
“You’ll be running his new hotel for him,” George said. “Well, well-that makes all the sense in the world. Here’s a woman who has absolutely no experience managing anything other than her shoes and the men she fucks, and she’s been asked to manage the largest hotel in Manhattan. Now I can understand why you got the job. You’re obviously suited for it.”
“George…”
“Stay out of this, Elizabeth.”
“At least he’s willing to take a chance on me,” Leana said. “At least he’s taken an interest in me, which you never have.”
“You’re so naive,” George said. “Tell me, why is he taking such an interest in you? Certainly not because of your skills, so it must be to get at me. Can’t you see that? Are you that blind? The man is using you. He’ll probably end up hurting you.”
While Leana sensed part of that was true, she wouldn’t admit it to her father. “As if you’d give a damn. And besides, I don’t believe that,” she said. “He’s d
one things for me that you’ve never done. He’s treated me like the father you never were.” She shot him a look. “And why is that, Dad? Why is it that you never brought me to Redman International when I was a kid? You brought Celina. You brought Celina every fucking day. You treated her like the son you never had.”
George shoved a finger at her. “You leave Celina out of this,” he said. “You’re not going to drag her into this. Not this. Not now.”
“Try and stop me,” Leana said. “For years you gave her opportunities I never was given. For years you showered her with the love you refused to give me. You neglected me. You made me feel worthless, as if you wished I was never born. You pushed me from your life when I wanted to be close to you, you made me hate my own sister when I should have loved her. Jesus Christ, Dad-and people wonder why I got so screwed up on drugs. People wonder why I’m so goddamned angry now!”
“That’s right,” George said. “Blame your problems on me. Isn’t that how you played it in rehab? Get the sympathy vote by taking your old man down?” He took a step toward her. “Let me tell you something, girl. You’ve had it good your entire life. You’ve had things millions of people will never have. You’ve been privileged and spoiled. So, please, don’t give me any bullshit about how I neglected you, because that’s hardly the case.”
Leana shook her head sadly. “You just don’t get it, do you? You really think you were a prize father. What a joke. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. The great George Redman does no wrong.”
“I made mistakes,” George said. “I admit it. I’m human. But you’ve been holding onto those mistakes for years. You’ve been carrying a grudge ever since you were a kid. Can you honestly say that you’ve given me a chance?”
“Yes,” Leana said without hesitation. “Yes, I can say that.”
“Then I guess you’re a better person than I am,” George said. “Congratulations.”
He started to walk away again.
But Leana went after him.
“It’s so easy for you,” she said. “Build your buildings. Take over your corporations. Live your big life. Be that big dream. But what I see is a pathetic excuse of a man who has so lost control of himself and what matters in life that my sister is dead because of it.”
That stopped him.
“It’s true,” she said. “Those spotlights exploded weeks ago. Why didn’t you protect your family when someone obviously has it in for us. Someone you probably pissed off. You think they’ll be coming after me and Mom because of something we did? Get real. When we’re dead, it’ll be because of something you did, not us. You’ve got blood on your hands now, and you’ll have blood on your hands then.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Tell that to Celina.”
“I’ve been in touch with the police daily about those spotlights.”
“You should have been up their ass hourly. You should have been on the phone to the major. You should have called your friend the governor. Tell that to Celina, too. You’re partly responsible for all of this. You failed to keep your family safe. You suck as a father. You’re not the man you think you are. You’re just some schmuck who got lucky years ago, made his fortune, collected the rewards that came with it and the luck kept rolling until it stopped with my sister’s death. You’re the murderer here. You’re a piece of shit and it’s time someone told you so to your face.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” George said.
“If you think I’m leaving my mother alone with you, you’re crazy. You’re unstable. You get the fuck out.”
George looked at Elizabeth, saw the pain on her face and the defeat in her eyes, and then he also noted something else-she was siding with Leana. He stepped alone into the elevator-only dimly aware of the press, who were still leaning against the windows-and pressed a button. The doors closed. He was gone.
In his study, Michael Archer watched his mother move across the living room to pick up her son, watched her collapse with him on the damask sofa, watched her throw back her head and laugh when he tickled her ribs.
No sound came from her mouth. But her eyes were shining.
He picked up the remote, pointed it at the television, zoomed in and froze on her face. She looked happy. He held the shot for a few seconds, then pressed a button and faded into the next clip.
Michael leaned toward the television and tried to remember the lost scenes of his childhood as they unfolded before him.
Anne Ryan stood on tip-toe as she placed a large tinfoil star on top of a Christmas tree decorated with strings of popcorn, twinkling lights, frosted glass balls. When the star was in place, she stepped back and smiled at her handiwork. She turned toward the camera, curtsied, then made a face and pointed across the room.
The camera whirled and swept across a small apartment that was neat, festive and filled with people. His father was sitting in an antique rocking chair, cuddling an infant in the crook of his arm. Louis kissed the child on the forehead, brushed its cheek with the back of his hand.
Michael lifted the receiver to his ear. “How did you get these films onto DVD?” he asked his father, who had called moments before. Louis had asked Michael to go to his study and look in the drawer beneath the television. There, Michael found a DVD player and a stack of DVDs.
“They were brought to a man on Third Avenue,” Louis said. “He takes old home movie footage and puts it onto DVD.” There was a beat of silence. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Why isn’t there any sound?”
“Your grandfather shot everything. He used his camera.”
Michael watched his mother. She was now wearing a long, flowing white dress and holding a stuffed Easter bunny in front of her son. He watched himself giggle, watched himself grin.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I want you to remember your mother as she was. It’s been a long time, Michael. You’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Michael said. I haven’t.
The line went dead.
When the phone rang thirty minutes later, Michael was viewing the final DVD. Feeling drained and exhausted, he paused the frame and reached for the telephone, thinking it was his father.
It wasn’t.
For the next several moments, Michael listened quietly to the man who gave him the loan in Vegas. He listened to him threaten, he listened to him shout.
“I understand in a few days your father’s going to ask a favor of you,” the man said. “For your sake, you better do it, Michael. Because if you don’t, if you decide not to kill Redman, your father won’t give us the final payment-and then Mr. Santiago will be asking me to do a favor for him.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“How are you this morning?”
Diana turned from the window she was standing at and looked across the small living room at Jack Douglas. He was standing in the arched doorway, holding two cups of coffee and wearing a faded blue bathrobe that was spotted with purplish bleach stains and frayed at the sleeves.
Diana shrugged. “I’m all right,” she said. “Considering.”
Jack nodded-he knew.
His eyes puffy from lack of sleep, his hair tousled, he moved to the center of the room and sat at one end of a sofa. “I made coffee,” he said. “Want a cup?”
Diana said she would love a cup. As she crossed the room, it occurred to her how strange it was that they were here together, comforting each another in his apartment. Yesterday, after the police left with Eric, Jack went upstairs to her bedroom, packed her an overnight bag and told her to come home with him.
Diana didn’t want to be alone in her apartment. She was grateful for his kindness and agreed. Now, as she sat beside Jack, she wondered again how anyone involved in the takeover of WestTex Incorporated would get through these next few days without losing whatever sanity they somehow had managed to keep.
Jack handed her one of the steaming mugs. “That was Harold on the phone a few minute
s ago,” he said. “He and the board have been caucusing with WestTex and Chase since last night. Frostman has been key to moving things forward. The paperwork’s nearly finished. Chase has cut us a deal. Everything’s a go.”
“Then we leave tomorrow afternoon for Iran?”
Jack nodded, relieved that Celina’s funeral was scheduled for early morning, hours before he, Diana and Harold would have to board Redman International’s private Lear to London, then on to Iran.
“It’s a long flight,” he said. “By the time we arrive to sign the final papers, it’ll be Tuesday morning in New York and the deal with WestTex will have just been completed. Harold seems to feel that everything will go smoothly from here on out.”
Diana smiled wryly. She sipped her coffee.
“I see you’re having a difficult time believing that, too,” Jack said.
“Can you blame me?”
“Not at all. In fact, I’d be surprised if something doesn’t go wrong. Too much has happened. My trust in this deal and in Redman International has dissolved. Someone is out to destroy George and his family.”
“They still haven’t found the man who murdered Celina, have they?”
Jack shook his head. All night long he had relived Celina’s death, trying to convince himself that he’d done everything he could to save her, but nevertheless feeling that he hadn’t done nearly enough. “Harold said they’ve found nothing. Not a thing.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“What’s all right? I know that once this deal is complete, I’m out of here. I’m going to leave Redman International, disappear somewhere. Before I do anything else, I have to get my head on straight, Diana.”
Fifth Avenue wst-1 Page 32