“So what’s the holdup, Ian?” Curtis asked with a punch to his left shoulder. “You need a reason to leave the office before midnight.”
A waiter approached them and handed Ian a cordless phone. “There’s a call for you, Mr. McKinley.”
“Now, who could that be?” Curtis joked. “We’re the only ones who ever bother you at this hour, and we’re all here.”
Ian shrugged and moved to the window, away from the noise of the party. “Hello.”
“Mr. McKinley?”
“Yes?”
“This is Detective O’Neill with the New York City Police Department. Is Luke McKinley your son?”
Alarm shot through Ian. “Yes, he is.”
“He was arrested tonight for possession of marijuana, Mr. McKinley.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. One by one, they finally did, even as disbelief washed over him. “Is he all right?”
“Yes.”
“There must be some mistake. Luke has never—”
“No mistake, Mr. McKinley.”
The detective gave him the address of the station and told him where to find Luke. Ian hung up, feeling as if someone had just punched him in the gut. He found Rachel and told her everything he knew. When she offered to go with him, he asked her to stay and explain to the others that he’d had an emergency.
He caught a cab outside the building imagining during the drive a hundred different scenarios involving Luke and jail.
When the driver pulled over at the police station, Ian handed him a fifty and sprinted for the door, his stomach churning. Inside, he took the elevator to the third floor. Even at this hour, the place vibrated with purpose. Still dressed in his tuxedo, he got his fair share of stares as he wound his way through a maze of desks littered with coffee cups and mounds of paper.
From the far corner of the room, a thin man with graying hair and skin that could use a little sunshine waved at him and called out, “You Mr. McKinley?”
“Yes.”
“Your son is in the room across the hall. Go on in. I’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you,” Ian said, while the detective went back to his call.
At the door, Ian stopped and drew in a deep breath before quickly turning the knob. Relief flooded him at the sight of Luke standing by the window with his hands jammed in his pockets.
His hair, long in front and short at the sides, halfway covered his eyes. His stance screamed defensive, his mouth set in a straight line. “Guess I messed up your party, huh?” he asked, his tone belligerent.
If Luke felt any fear, he wasn’t showing it.
“Is that what you meant to do?” Ian asked quietly, not at all sure where to go with this.
“I didn’t mean to do anything.” Luke shrugged, clearly a rebel with a cause, the origins of which Ian couldn’t begin to guess.
“They said you were arrested for drug possession.”
Another shrug. “Big deal.”
“Big deal?” Ian repeated. “Do you have any idea how serious this is?”
“It must be if you left your party to come down here.”
The verbal slap achieved its intended sting. “I know things have been busy lately, but… .”
“Lately?” Luke interrupted with a short laugh. “You’ve been saying ‘lately’ since I was six years old. Probably before then, I just can’t remember so far back. You only have time for work. And Rachel, of course, now that she’s going to be your wife.”
Bitterness layered the declaration. The vehemence behind it shocked Ian. Luke wasn’t a big talker. For the past few years, getting information out of him took the finesse of a secret service agent. Ian chalked it up to teenage rebellion. The boy had been even less communicative since he’d told him about his engagement to Rachel. He looked at his son now and felt as though he were seeing him for the first time in a very long while. “I think we need to talk.”
“So pencil me in before your nine-thirty, and I’ll tell you all about how I know you wish I’d never been born.”
The anger in the boy’s voice hit Ian like a brick in the face. “Why would you say a thing like that, Luke?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“No. It’s not. Son—”
“If it hadn’t been for me, she wouldn’t have died,” Luke yelled. “Don’t you think I know that?”
Ian grappled for composure. “Nobody could have prevented what happened to your mother. She had a stroke. How could you possibly think I would—”
“I don’t know,” he interrupted. “Maybe because you work all the time just so you don’t have to be around me.”
“Luke!” Ian stopped, at a complete loss for a response. Somehow, when he hadn’t been looking, something had gone terribly wrong between the two of them. Staring across at his son, part boy, part man, Ian wondered how Luke had felt this way without his knowing. How long had Luke been trying to get his attention? “Does this have something to do with my marrying Rachel?”
“I don’t care who you marry. I’m sure you’ll make all the time in the world for her.”
Ian felt as if someone had just held a mirror in front of him. He didn’t like what he saw. He thought about the party given in his honor tonight and realized the price. He’d spent the past seventeen years trying to make sure Luke had the things he himself never had as a kid. He’d sent the boy off to a camp in Wyoming every summer and to Austria in the winter with his ski team. In fact, he’d given him everything possible except one thing.
Time.
Maybe if he had, none of this would be happening.
Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have needed this kind of wake-up call to see what a mess he’d made of things.
Ian sank down on the chair behind him. He raked a hand through his hair and wondered how he’d gone from such heights to such depths in the span of one night. Luke was in trouble. Ian could blame no one but himself.
Table of Contents
Praise for Inglath Cooper
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ABOUT INGLATH COOPER
EXCERPT
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