In Their Blood: A Novel

by Sharon Potts

“I was just asking.” She scowled up at the light, then stuck out her tongue. So Robbie wasn’t quite the grownup she made herself out to be.

  Jeremy tried the key Irv had given him. He had forgotten to turn it back in. It turned easily in the lock. That made him even more certain they’d find the room empty, but the familiar smell of decaying paper and stale air filled his nostrils and lungs. He flipped on the wall switch. The overhead lights flickered as they struggled to come awake.

  “I told you,” Robbie said, pushing the door closed behind her. “Everything’s still here.”

  She wandered down an aisle between rows of cabinets and metal shelving units filled with binders. “I don’t see how anyone could find anything in here.”

  Jeremy tried to remember where he’d been standing when Irv had surprised him and he’d thrown down his mother’s workpapers. There were dozens and dozens of cartons lining the numerous aisles. It was like trying to find your car at Disney World when you forgot if you’d parked in Goofy or Pluto.

  He bent down beside a likely carton and went through the top binders. Every time he lifted a binder out, a searing pain went through his arm. His knuckles were bruised from punching the wall at his grandfather’s house.

  Was he doing the right thing coming here, or should he have confronted Dwight? But what Robbie had said made sense. Tonight, with no one around, had been a perfect opportunity to do this.

  Robbie fanned herself with a folder. The room was hot and a thin layer of perspiration had settled on her upper lip. “Tell me where to look. I don’t want to just stand around.”

  “I threw the Olympus binder into a carton in either this aisle or possibly the next one. I can’t remember.”

  She disappeared, but he could hear her dropping rejected binders on the floor. They hit with a hard thump. This was probably pointless. What connection could his mother’s observations of eighteen years ago possibly have to the Olympus today?

  “I found them,” Robbie called. “Your mother’s workpapers.”

  She was sitting on the gray linoleum floor. Her blue dress had ridden up to the middle of her thighs. She caught his glance and pulled the hem down. “Here’s the section on the Olympus site visit.” She flipped through and scanned the pages. He slid down next to her.

  “This was a couple of years after they’d begun developing the original Olympus,” she said.

  Jeremy peered over her shoulder.

  “So, according to your mother,” Robbie said, “they’d finally finished building the Olympus, despite all kinds of labor problems, but it was wiped out by a hurricane before it opened, like your grandfather said.” She scanned the rest of the papers. “Nothing else jumps out at me.”

  He took the binder from her and found the page with the photo. A ruin of what looked like a Greek temple, purple cliffs and blue-green seas, the back of a man standing in the foreground.

  Robbie pushed herself up and straightened out her dress. “Do you know where the other Castillo audit papers are?”

  “The filing system sucks, but some are in here.” Jeremy pulled out the top drawer of another file cabinet. The cabinet teetered forward. Jeremy quickly pushed the drawer in a few inches so it wouldn’t topple. “You need to be careful with these cabinets. They’re unstable.”

  Robbie lifted out a stack of binders and thumbed through them. “Okay. Here’s something interesting. Looks like they spent a ton of money when they starting rebuilding the Olympus Grande ten years ago.” She looked frustrated. “But this doesn’t help. We need the binders that came after this.”

  They both froze at a sound. A hollow clunk. Had someone followed them to the file room?

  They waited, but heard nothing more. Jeremy remembered the creepy feeling he’d had when he had worked in here. That Gladys seemed to know when he came and left. Maybe that was a camera in the hallway. “I think we should get out of here,” Jeremy whispered.

  “But we haven’t found what we need.”

  Jeremy took her elbow.

  Robbie looked startled when they got to the door, but she continued to the elevator and didn’t talk until they’d driven out of the garage.

  “What?” Jeremy said. “You’re acting like you saw a ghost.”

  “It was probably nothing,” she said. “But I could have sworn I’d closed it when we got there.”

  “Closed what?”

  “The door. To the file room. It was open just now.”

  Chapter 35

  Jeremy leaned against his mother’s Lexus. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his suit pants as he waited in the parking lot where Dwight worked. The uniformed security guard had inquired of Jeremy’s business, then returned to his folding chair beneath the awning to consume his café Cubano and guava-filled pastry. Jeremy’s was the only car in the lot, but Jeremy knew his uncle’s obsession with punctuality and expected him to arrive in a few minutes, at eight a.m.

  After leaving the file room last night, Robbie had first taken Jeremy to pick up the Corvair on South Beach, then to retrieve his mother’s car, which had accumulated a small fortune in charges at the tow yard. Jeremy decided he’d had enough of his father and his car and had left the Corvair at the house.

  It was blustery this morning and the wind blew several loose pieces of newspaper against the chain-link fence. The rapidly shifting clouds formed a slushy gray ripple. Just yesterday, Jeremy had been lying in the heat, feeling spiritless. His face still ached from the sunburn, but his internal mood had changed. Even the discouragement last night of not finding anything useful in the file room hadn’t dampened his drive. If anything, the possibility that someone may have observed him and Robbie heightened his purpose. But first he had to take care of things here.

  A black Buick turned into the lot. It stopped, then quickly began to back out. His uncle had seen him. Jeremy ran to the rear of the car and banged on the trunk. As crazy as his uncle was, Jeremy doubted he would run his nephew over— at least not while a security guard was watching.

  Jeremy gestured for his uncle to roll down the window.

  “What do you want, Jeremy?” Dwight said.

  “Just to talk.”

  “You’ve had plenty of opportunity. I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Elise told me.”

  “And I’m afraid I’m too busy this morning to listen to your excuses and apologies.”

  “Come on, Dwight. Just a few minutes. We can talk out here.”

  Dwight rolled up his window, shaking his head with annoyance. He pulled into a parking spot and got out of the car, taking his suit jacket from a hanger over the backseat. He made a show of putting it on, straightening his tie, smoothing down his thin hair. “Good morning, Mario.” Dwight smiled at the guard, who didn’t respond.

  “I understand you’ve been busy,” Jeremy said to his uncle.

  “I do what I have to, unlike some people who shirk their responsibilities.”

  “Well, I have to agree with you there, Dwight. I’m afraid I haven’t been keeping up with mine.”

  Dwight’s shoulders relaxed. “I don’t know what your parents were thinking. They never should have left you in charge. You can cut your hair and put on a suit, but that doesn’t change what you are.”

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence. But you know, you’ve actually done a lot to help me see the error of my ways.”

  “So you’re a transformed man.”

  Jeremy smiled.

  “Unfortunately, it’s too late for that, Jeremy. I’ve filed papers.”

  “I heard.”

  “So you might as well buy yourself an airline ticket to wherever the hell you go. Maybe one of your little doped-out bimbos will still be waiting for you.”

  “You’re a thoughtful guy, Dwight.”

  A gust of wind blew Dwight’s necktie up in the air. He held it down as he took a couple of steps toward the office building. “I’m afraid I have a busy morning.”

  “I’d like the key.”


  “Key?” Dwight stopped in his tracks.

  “To my house. Legally, I believe you were trespassing yesterday.”

  “I have a right to check up on my niece.”

  “Really? Show me where it says that.”

  “I’m not getting involved in a legal discourse with you. I know my rights.”

  “So you have the right to enter your niece’s house, terrify her by not announcing your presence, then hit her after she becomes hysterical with fear. I wonder how a judge would react to that. But wait, you’re running for judge, so you should know exactly what one would think.”

  The guard stopped pouring coffee from a thermos into his small cup. He scowled at Dwight.

  Dwight reached into his pocket and took out his key case. As he tried to release the key, the hook jammed under his fingernail. He put his thumb in his mouth and sucked on it, looking like an obscene caricature of a baby. “Damn, that hurt.”

  “As much as your hand hurt when you hit my sister?”

  Dwight got the key off its hook and held it out on the palm of his hand. “Take the damn key. This conversation’s over.”

  “You think?” Jeremy’s hand clamped over Dwight’s. He held fast, feeling the bones and spongy flesh shifting as he tightened his grip.

  Dwight tried to pull away. “What the hell are you doing? You’ll break my hand.”

  “I want to make sure we understand each other, Dwight.” Jeremy squeezed harder, as he jerked Dwight’s arm behind his back.

  “Do something,” Dwight shouted to the guard. “This is assault.”

  “Are you listening to me, Dwight?”

  “Yes. Yes.” He writhed like a suffocating fish. “Let go. Please let go.”

  “Withdraw the papers you filed against me for Elise’s guardianship. If not, Elise and I will file charges against you for illegal entry and— what is this you say I’m doing to you?” He squeezed tighter as he twisted Dwight’s arm behind his back. “Assault? And we’ll file charges against you for assaulting Elise. Am I clear?”

  “Let go.”

  “Am I clear, Dwight?”

  “Yes.” His eyes were squeezed shut. “Just let go.”

  “Good.” Jeremy released his grip.

  Dwight opened his hand slowly. “Look what you’ve done. The key’s practically embedded.”

  Jeremy pulled it out of Dwight’s palm. It left a mark as if he’d been branded. “You won’t need this again.”

  Dwight backed away from Jeremy. “You and your sister. Just like your self-righteous parents. More trouble than you’re worth. If you think I’m going to withdraw my claim against your guardianship, you’re sadly mistaken.” He kneaded his hand. His bulky college ring protruded above his knuckle.

  Had that lying bastard hit his sister with his ring?

  “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.”

  “Didn’t I?” Jeremy brought his fist back and punched Dwight hard in the face. “I hope I did better this time.”

  Blood spurted out of Dwight’s nose. “Do something,” he screamed at the guard. “Arrest him.”

  But the guard leaned back on his folding chair and sipped his café, a look of deep satisfaction on his face.

  The throbbing ache in Jeremy’s fist was a sweet one. Much more satisfying than hitting the wall at his grandfather’s house. Sweet revenge, Jeremy thought, as he drove away from his uncle. So that’s where it came from.

  Over the last few weeks, he’d almost lost his taste for it. He’d been so blinded by Marina that, like Odysseus on the island of the lotus-eaters, he had forgotten his true purpose. He’d only been going through the motions and had lost his taste for sweet revenge. All he could taste was Marina.

  “Marina.” He said the name out loud. It sounded harsh against the purring engine and muted highway noises.

  “Marina,” he said again. He waited for the contraction in his chest, the momentary sense of suffocating. It had lessened. He was getting over her.

  “Marina and my father.” His chest convulsed as though someone had punched him. In his mind he could see his father touching her, kissing her fingers, licking her small round mouth.

  Shit. He had to stop doing this to himself.

  “Let it go,” he said, but he couldn’t. Talk about irony. His mother had told Robbie that Jeremy and his father were so busy competing they didn’t realize they were the same. Well, that was an understatement. They were so much the same that Marina couldn’t seem to tell him from his father.

  Jeremy squeezed the steering wheel. He wanted so much to confront him— scream at him, shout at him. How dare his father do that? He was a husband, father, responsible adult, role model. Why was he running around fucking young graduate assistants?

  The traffic slowed to a halt. A fender bender over to the side of the road. People shouting and flailing their arms. Jeremy drove past.

  His dad would never know how much he had hurt Jeremy. Someone had killed him. Murdered both his parents and taken away Jeremy’s right to a father and a mother with whom he could be angry. And in doing so, taken away Jeremy’s ability to forgive.

  And be forgiven.

  Chapter 36

  There was a minor commotion outside Bud’s office. A man with several cameras slung over his chest was fumbling with a tripod. Then Jeremy noticed the endless slender legs, the short skirt, the waves of blonde hair of the woman standing in the doorway smiling. “It’s been a real privilege,” she said.

  Bud, in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to forearm, stepped out of his office. “The privilege has been mine, Jessica. You’re a most astute interviewer.”

  “You’re embarrassing me.” Her guttural laugh sounded like sexual foreplay. “But I must tell you, Bud, I’m very excited about this piece. It’s important that someone with a story as powerful as yours gets to be heard. You’re truly an inspiration.”

  “Now, Jessica. I’m just a little ole country mouse that’s made good in the big city.”

  “Some mouse,” she said, looking like she was about to pounce on him. Then she noticed Jeremy and pulled back.

  “Jeremy.” Bud didn’t seem the least put out by his presence. “Have you come to see me?”

  “If this is a bad time—”

  “Not at all.” Bud turned to Jessica. “Jeremy Stroeb’s one of our auditors.” He put his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Jessica and I were just finishing up. Jessica’s with Your Business magazine.”

  “Stroeb?” She checked out Jeremy, as though she was trying to connect him to the name. “We’re doing the cover story on Mr. McNally and how he’s transformed PCM into one of the top firms in the country.”

  “That’s great,” Jeremy said.

  Jessica extended her hand and shook Bud’s firmly. “Again, thank you, Bud. It’s been a true adventure.”

  Bud winked and led Jeremy into his office, closing the door behind them. The partner didn’t sit down. He seemed wired as he paced the room. “Damn,” he said. “Cover of Your Business. Talk about product placement.”

  Jeremy wondered what product he had in mind.

  “That’s the kind of exposure we need,” Bud continued. “Did you know that Your Business is the number one magazine among CEOs? They’ve left Forbes and Business Week in the dust.”

  “That should definitely increase PCM’s exposure to prospective clients,” Jeremy said.

  “But it’s more than that.” Bud had taken the worn strap that hung behind his desk and wound it around his fist. “The rags-to-riches stories have universal appeal. Even ordinary people read the magazine.”

  “Is that what she’s writing?” Jeremy asked. “A rags-to-riches story on you?”

  “The masses have always gobbled up stories of the poor boy who makes good. The magazine is simply trying to capitalize on what sells.” Bud hung the strap back on its hook. “Of course, the article is first and foremost about the growth of PCM. And Rachel Stroeb was an instrumental part of that growth. I made certain Jessica was aware of that.
I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to take anything away from your mama.”

  “I didn’t mean to come across like I was questioning you.”

  “No, no.” Bud rubbed his chin. “Of course not. Of course not. Well, sit down, Jeremy. Here I’m squawking like a flock of blue jays when you’ve come to talk to me.”

  Jeremy sat down in the guest chair across from Bud’s.

  The partner took in Jeremy’s hand, bruised and swollen from his encounter with his uncle this morning. “I’d hate to see the other guy’s face,” he said, smiling at his little joke.

  Jeremy returned the smile.

  “So how can I help you, Jeremy? I understand you’ve taken a couple of days off. Is everything okay at home?”

  “It’s been a tough adjustment.”

  “I’m sure. How’s Elise doing?”

  “Hanging in there.”

  “You have a lot on your plate, but remember, your sister is your priority.”

  “I know that.”

  “Good. Good.” Bud seemed distracted, his attention shifting to the chessboard on the corner of his desk.

  Jeremy was starting to lose his cool. What had he hoped to accomplish coming here? Asking Bud questions about Castillo Enterprises would raise its own questions about Jeremy’s intentions. So would any reference to the audit papers in the file room. What Jeremy needed to do was eliminate suspicion of his ulterior motives, not create it.

  Bud moved the black rook.

  “I don’t mean to keep you,” Jeremy said. “I just wanted to apologize.” Bud’s eyes moved from the chessboard to Jeremy. “Apologize?”

  “For disappearing for a few days. It was unprofessional. I should have let you know what was happening.”

  “I certainly don’t want to intrude in your personal business, but if you need a sounding board, I’m always here for you.”

  “Thank you, Bud.” Jeremy rubbed his fist. He needed to play this carefully. “I did something pretty stupid.” He had Bud’s interest now. “I got involved with someone at MIU who promised to lead me to my parents’ murderer.”

  Bud leaned back in his chair.

  “I know. It was dumb. There are detectives working to find the killer. I don’t know what made me think I could be any more effective.”