by Sharon Sala
“Does your family own any weapons?” Riordan asked.
Charles nodded. “Yes, sir, but I’m not sure how many or exactly what kinds.”
“Do you know where they’re kept?”
“I know some of them are at the lake house, but I don’t know if that’s all of them.”
Riordan paused. If the family never gathered there anymore, and if this kid had been away at college all those years, what did the lake house represent to him?
“I’ve been told your family doesn’t use the lake house anymore,” he said.
Charles shrugged.
“I don’t think that’s entirely true. I think Dad let some of the resort people stay there once or twice, and I believe someone in the family had a New Year’s Eve party there my senior year of college. I remember wishing I was here to attend, because I was finally of legal age to drink.”
Riordan began tapping his pen against his notebook.
“Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I’m actually quite a good shot, although I confess the only thing I’ve shot at are clay pigeons.”
“Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?”
“Sure do. I had one when I was away at boarding school in DC. It was a lot easier to get around all the traffic and find a place to park, although I did use my car during inclement weather.”
“Do you ride here?”
Charles shook his head.
“No, I sold the bike after I graduated college, before I came home.”
“What about the motorcycle here?”
Charles frowned. “I didn’t know there was one until you mentioned it this morning.”
“There’s one registered to the family corporation,” Riordan said.
Charles shrugged.
“I’ll have to ask Dad. I might like to ride here, too. The mountains around Eden are beautiful this time of year, don’t you think?”
Riordan thought of the families who’d been displaced by the resort. He doubted there was much of anything beautiful about their lives right now. He glanced up. “How often do you go out to the lake house?”
Charles’s gaze shifted momentarily, as if he hadn’t seen that question coming, and Riordan knew immediately there was something he wasn’t telling.
And then Charles grinned.
“As often as I can get a girl to go out there with me,” he said.
Riordan’s expectations took a nosedive. So the kid used it for a place to hook up. That wasn’t what he was looking for.
“Does the family know?” Riordan asked.
Charles rolled his eyes.
“Lord, I hope not, and I would consider it a huge favor if you didn’t mention it. It’s hard enough living under this roof without anyone even close to my age. If my social activities away from home were curtailed, it would make my life so much less interesting.”
“But you have five cousins somewhat close to your age.”
Charles frowned.
“No, sir, I’m the only—” And then he stopped. “Ah...sorry, I didn’t get what you meant. However, I didn’t even know they existed until three days ago, so...”
Riordan closed his notebook and signaled for Griffin to turn off the video.
“That’s all. You may go,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Charles said, and left the room.
Griffin began packing up his video equipment. “At least one of them is normal,” he said.
Riordan frowned. “Seemingly,” he drawled.
Within a few minutes they were gone.
The family came scrambling out of their rooms, heading toward the library.
Justin was finally dressed, Fiona was carrying a cup of coffee and Blake seemed preoccupied. They headed for the desk to get their phones, but Jack got there ahead of them and pulled them all toward him in a pile.
“Not yet,” he said. “I want to know what he asked you and what you said.”
“Oh, hell, no!” Justin said, and grabbed his phone and put it in his pocket. “It’s bad enough we had to put up with the goddamned cops. I’m not putting up with crap from you, too...sir.”
Jack knew he’d only added that so he could claim he wasn’t being disrespectful, even though he was. The others knew that, too, and one by one they followed suit, taking their phones and leaving Jack Wayne on his own.
Jack swiveled his chair around and glared at his brother’s portrait hanging on the wall above him.
“They’re just like you, so don’t blame me if we all go down in flames.”
Then he dropped his phone in his pocket and went to work.
Ten
Bowie and his brothers were still at the gate when Riordan and his crew emerged from the house. It had been a little over three hours since they’d gone inside, and now the sun was directly overhead. The day was heating up, and distant clouds were already building over the mountain to the west. Likely another night of thunderstorms.
Bowie pointed. “They’re coming out.”
The brothers cast a short shadow as they stood together, but their message was unmistakable as the cars approached the gates. Riordan ignored their presence, but Bowie could tell by the set of his jaw that the constable was aggravated they were still there.
“I wonder what happened?” Aidan said, as the county cop cars drove toward the city limits and the Eden police cruiser headed uptown.
“We’ll know in time,” Samuel said.
“I need to get home,” Michael said. “I work this afternoon until 6:00 p.m.”
“I’m going to check on Talia and her dad before I leave Eden,” Bowie said.
“Give her our sympathies,” Samuel said.
“I will,” Bowie said, and one by one they returned to their vehicles.
Once the brothers were gone, the crowd began to disperse. By the time Blake headed to the office, the street in front of the estate was empty. He was trying not to panic, but the constable’s appearance had changed the way he viewed his life. He had thought their world impervious and their family above the law. Money had always made the difference, but not in this case. Damn Leigh for ever bringing Stanton Youngblood into their world, and damn Stanton’s soul to hell for bringing it down.
* * *
Bowie called Talia on his way downtown, but the phone rang so many times he thought it was going to voice mail. When she finally answered, he heard exhaustion in her voice.
“Hello.”
“Hello, honey, it’s me. Is it still okay to stop by your house?”
Talia sighed. Just the sound of his voice eased the knot in her stomach.
“Yes, of course.”
“Have you eaten anything?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“I’ll bring food if you’ll tell me what sounds good to you.”
The offer momentarily stumped her. She hadn’t had the luxury of being picky about food, but there was one thing she never turned down.
“A vanilla malt. I haven’t had one in ages.”
He chuckled. “If I’d thought about it, I would already have known that. I’ll be there shortly.”
She closed her eyes as they spoke, concentrating solely on that deep voice rumbling in her ear.
“I can’t wait to see you. Last night I dreamed you weren’t really here,” she said.
“I’m real, and I’ll bring a malt and a kiss just to prove it.”
“Thank you, Bowie. See you soon.”
He laid the phone in the console, took a right turn and headed for Larry’s Drive-In to get their food. He added two burgers, fries and a chocolate malt to go with the vanilla malt he ordered for Talia. Maybe he could tempt her to eat something, too.
While she was waiting for Bowie, Talia went
to change her shirt and brush her hair. It had been so long since she cared what she looked like that it almost felt foreign to feel that way now.
She glanced in the mirror as she put her hair back into a quick ponytail, and then stopped and looked—really looked—at what caring for her father had done to her.
She was at least twenty pounds underweight. She looked as tired as she felt, and she could see the faint tic of a muscle near her left eye. She laid down the hairbrush and walked out of the bathroom straight to her father’s bedside.
Marshall Champion used to stand six feet tall in his bare feet, with a head of thick, curly brown hair he kept short. His body had been strong and muscular from all his years working on the railroad. But that was then, and this was now, and Talia could no longer see her father in the man lying in this bed. He was a shell of who he’d been, and she was so grateful for him that this hell was finally coming to an end.
“Hey, Dad, Bowie is coming to see us,” she said, as she patted his arm, then straightened the edge of his covers and smoothed back the tiny wisps of the hair he had left.
Suddenly he exhaled so loudly that it startled her. She stood stock-still for a few moments, her heart pounding as she waited for him to take that next breath. Just when she thought it wasn’t going to happen, she saw his eyelids flutter, and then she heard him inhale.
She sighed. He was still fighting the good fight.
“I’m here, Dad. For as long as you need me, I’m here,” she whispered, then kissed his forehead and eased down in the chair beside his bed.
She didn’t mean to fall asleep, but she did. The next thing she knew, someone was knocking at the door. She stood abruptly, checked on her father and then headed for the door.
Bowie’s hands were full as he leaned in and kissed her instead of saying hello. He handed her the malt and carried the rest inside, smiling to himself when she closed her eyes at that first sip. Then he glanced toward the bed.
“How’s it going today?”
“He’s still here,” she said softly.
“Where do you want to eat?” he asked. “I’m good with in here if you want to stay close.”
She nodded, and pointed to the sofa.
“You can use the coffee table.”
He put down the food and waited for her to settle, then sat beside her and began unwrapping the burgers. He laid the fries out close to her, then put one in her mouth before he took a bite of his burger.
They ate without talking.
Bowie could tell by her red-rimmed eyes that if she had to talk she was going to cry, and he wanted to get as much sustenance in her as he could beforehand.
For Talia, it had been so long since she’d allowed herself to feel that now it was all overwhelming her. Bowie had brought her back to life when he’d forgiven her for the lie. The fact that he still wanted her hadn’t really sunk in. Everything she was feeling now felt new: the cold, sweet taste of ice cream on her tongue, and the savory bite of salt on the fries. She could feel the warmth of Bowie’s body as she leaned against it and absorbed the gentleness of his presence as proof she wasn’t dreaming. When he coaxed her to eat a few more fries, she did so to please him, and all the while she could hear her father’s unsteady breathing and the occasional rattle in his chest.
“You eat the other burger, too,” she said.
He frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want at least a few bites?”
“I’m sure,” she said, then pushed the food aside and allowed herself to look, really look, at Bowie. He was still so beautiful in her eyes. She remembered how much she loved making love with him. One day it would happen again. The thought was a promise to hold on to.
“The malt was so good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” But when he saw tears pooling in her eyes, he opened his arms. “Come here to me,” he said gently.
Talia swallowed past the knot in her throat and wrapped her arms around his neck. When she did, he pulled her into his lap. She laid her head against his shoulder, then flattened her hand over the strong steady beat of his heart. His strength was what was pulling her back into the land of the living.
“He’s worse, isn’t he?” Bowie asked.
She nodded.
He held her just a little bit tighter. “Is your hospice nurse coming today?”
“Yes. I called her.”
“Because...?”
She lowered her voice to a whisper so her father couldn’t possibly hear.
“Because I think today he will die.”
Bowie felt her shaking.
“Are you not ready to lose him? Is that why you’re trembling?”
“No, God, no,” she said. “I wish for all this to be over for him. But I also want it to be over for me, too. I don’t have another week of this left in me. I’m not even sure I have another day, and I feel guilty for thinking that with every breath I take.”
Then she started to cry, and Bowie pulled her close.
“I won’t leave you alone, okay? I’ll be right here with you until it’s over. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”
As he held her, he wondered how many times she’d cried like this alone, and why life was so damn hard to get through. His parents had been the happiest two people he’d ever known, and look what had happened to them.
He and Talia had been so ready to begin a life together when another man’s fate ended their dreams. When she buried her father, the sacrifice she’d made for him would be a thing of the past, but his mother was still waiting for justice. Life sure wasn’t fair.
A few moments later Marshall gasped. Talia flew out of Bowie’s arms and ran to her father’s bedside just as someone knocked at the front door.
“That’s probably Erin,” she said, and quickly let her in. “Dad’s really struggling,” she told Erin abruptly, and ran back to the bed.
Erin saw Bowie cleaning up the remnants of a meal, and since they’d already met, she nodded a quick hello.
Bowie headed for the kitchen with the trash and then walked out onto the back porch to call home. Even though he’d told Talia he would stay, he was torn about where he belonged. He needed to make sure all was well back home.
He made the call and then, as he was waiting for his mother to answer, noticed the helipad was easily visible from here and wondered if Talia had seen him arriving.
“Hello?” his mother said.
“Mama, it’s me. I’m at Talia’s.”
“How is she? How is Marshall?”
“That’s part of why I’m calling. She thinks it’s just a matter of hours.”
“Oh, bless her heart. Who’s there with her?”
“The hospice nurse just got here...and me.”
“Don’t they have any family in the area? Isn’t there someone from the church? She shouldn’t face this alone. You should stay.”
“I wanted to, but I had to make sure you would—”
“Oh, good Lord, Bowie! We’re fine. Polly is here right now, and Samuel already called to let me know he’d do the evening chores. We’re all in a state of wait-and-see, and you know it. You’ve lit a fire under the authorities. Now we have to wait for them to do their job.”
He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“Thank you for understanding. I’ll call or text you later.”
“I love you, Bowie. Be happy with her, and tell her we love her and are sending her our prayers.”
“Yes, ma’am, and I love you, too,” Bowie said, and then went back inside.
Erin was at Marshall’s bedside assessing his vitals while Talia stood at the foot of the bed, watching. Bowie walked up behind her and wrapped her in his arms. She curled her fingers around his wrists and leaned against him, grateful for his strength.
“Was I right?” Talia asked.
&n
bsp; Erin looked up and nodded.
Talia’s shoulders slumped, and then she stepped out of Bowie’s arms and moved to her father’s side. She touched his arm, his cheek, leaned over and kissed his forehead, then whispered in his ear, “It’s okay now, Daddy. It’s time to go home.”
Bowie couldn’t hear what she said, but he knew she’d just let her father go. He took a deep breath and focused on a picture on the wall above the bed to keep from crying. He knew what she was feeling. Even if the circumstance were vastly different, the loss was still the same.
Erin McClune was filled with empathy for Talia and what was happening. She’d been in this place so many times before, and it never changed. The medical staff who helped bring babies into the world always had their moments of elation, while Erin and others like her had their own sense of quiet accomplishment knowing they were helping families as their loved ones passed on.
For all three of them standing watch, time seemed to stop. It was as if the only sound in the little house was the faint, intermittent inhale and exhale of Marshall Champion’s breath.
Bowie wondered if Marshall was in pain, and wondered if, in his father’s last seconds, the pain had faded for him. God, he hoped so. His father had died alone. Marshall would not, and yet neither man would have ever imagined the way he would exit this world.
Talia had always heard that when someone died, their life flashed before their eyes. She didn’t know what her father was experiencing, but she was being bombarded with precious memories of their life together.
Once she glanced up at the clock. It was almost three in the afternoon. They’d been standing there waiting for more than two hours, and in that time Bowie had not budged from the foot of the bed. She hurt for the tears on his cheeks. This had to remind him of losing his dad, and yet he’d stayed.
She looked back at her father just as he exhaled again, and waited for him to take the next breath. When he didn’t, the hair stood up on the back of her neck.
Erin already had her stethoscope on his chest, listening for a heartbeat.
Talia’s fingers tightened around the bed rail as they waited. Bowie walked up behind her, then put a hand on one shoulder, just so she wouldn’t feel alone.