In Their Blood: A Novel

by Sharon Potts

  “Very much so,” Liliam said. “It’s apparent that Enrique doesn’t care about the survival of Castillo Enterprises. I think if it were up to him, he’d be happy to see the company his father built ruined. I can’t let that happen.”

  Bud was sitting up straight. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’d like you to support me as president and CEO of Castillo Enterprises.”

  Irv shook his head almost imperceptibly.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of asking Dwight to prepare the relevant papers.” Dwight handed her a blue-sheathed packet, which she placed in her lap beneath her folded hands, acting a composure she certainly didn’t feel.

  Bud rubbed his chin, as though considering something. He glanced down at the chess set on the corner of the desk. “Y’all play?” he asked.

  Instinctively, she smiled.

  “Chess,” he said.

  “Oh. I’m afraid chess was never my game.”

  Bud gave a little half smile. “Well then, how about letting me have a look see at those papers?”

  He was expressionless as he read, turning each page slowly.

  “What we’re trying to do here—” Dwight said.

  Bud held up his hand to silence him and continued reading. “These documents transfer majority ownership of Castillo Enterprises from Enrique to you, Liliam.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Now Liliam, don’t get me wrong— I’d like to help if I could— but it seems to me this is something between you and your husband.”

  “You’re the only one he’ll listen to, Bud. You and Irv,” she said, trying to be polite. “Please, won’t you go to St. Mary’s and talk to him? Persuade him that it’s the best solution for everyone?”

  “These papers would give you complete control of the company,” Bud said. “Are you sure that’s what you want? My mama always said, ‘Don’t go eatin’ little brown nuggets thinkin’ they be chocolate.’”

  “I’m prepared for the bad as well as the good. It’s my son’s future.”

  Bud closed the packet of papers. “Irv and I need to discuss this.”

  “Of course,” she said, trying to hide her disappointment.

  Bud patted Dwight on the back and shook Liliam’s hand at the door. “I’ll be in touch with you very soon.”

  She lifted her chin, as she imagined her forebears would have done under the circumstances. “You know you and PCM will have my undying loyalty.”

  Bud turned a hand-carved chess piece over in his hands. Mammoth ivory. The finest. The ivory was hard, yet fragile. If he dropped it, it would shatter irreparably. But he wouldn’t drop it. Bud hadn’t gotten where he was by dropping things.

  And now, as often happened when he laid out the pieces strategically on the board, a solution had presented itself. Who would have imagined— Liliam Castillo, a knight in shining armor? A knight with no interest in protecting her king.

  “So what do you think, Irv? Time for a changing of the guard?”

  Irv’s hands were palsied, a sign that he was long overdue for a drink. “You do what you want. I’m finished with this business.”

  Bud put down the chess piece. “Care for some, Irv?” Bud said, opening his credenza and holding out a bottle of Drambouie like a cube of sugar for a horse.

  Irv stood up. “I’m going back to my office.”

  Bud left the bottle on the far corner of his desk. “Come on, Irv. Come with me to St. Mary’s. Help me persuade Enrique to turn over his company to Liliam.”

  “I said I was finished. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Sit down, Irv.” Bud scrutinized his partner. There’d been a time Irv could have put Bud in checkmate, but that was many years ago. Now, Irv was simply a blight on the firm’s image. Rachel had been right about that. “So I suppose you’re willing to let Enrique prevail? Willing to let him get away with murder?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bud took the strap off its hook and slid it through his fingers. The strap his daddy had used to teach him that there were certain things in life he needed to avoid at all costs. “I spoke with the detectives this afternoon. They called after Enrique fled the country in his private jet. It’s apparent to them that Enrique left because of that girl’s murder.”

  “They think he killed her? What business could he have had with Danny Stroeb’s graduate assistant?”

  “That’s the thing. They believe she was killed in error. That Elise was his intended victim.”

  “Impossible.”

  “She found the transfer files on his yacht. Easy to imagine that he believed Elise connected them and him to her parents’ murders.”

  “What are you saying? That Enrique killed the Stroebs?” Irv shook his head. “Impossible.”

  “Impossible? You know what Rachel would have discovered when she got to the Olympus. And so did Enrique.”

  Irv stood back up, teetering. “I’m leaving.”

  “He was once in love with her. Come on, Irv, don’t give me that look. Everyone knew how they felt about each other. And with his macho Latin ego, do you think he could have handled Rachel seeing him for the failure he really was?”

  “It’s not possible.”

  “Think about it, Irv. Are you willing to let the man who murdered Rachel enjoy his memories on his private island?”

  Irv brushed past him, picking up the bottle of Drambouie. “I want nothing more to do with this.”

  Bud laid the strap down flat on his desk. “And here, I always thought Rachel meant more to you than that.”

  Chapter 47

  Jeremy awoke with a start. He was lying fully dressed on his bed. He checked his watch. 7:45. The brightness coming through the closed shades told him it was a.m., not p.m. He’d slept straight through since early yesterday.

  His body was sore as though he’d been in a fight. He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as he hung his head. Dried mud and leaves were stuck onto his sneakers.

  The park. He’d gone to the park and read Marina’s letter. Then he had just sat there. In the grotto. It had to have been for hours. He remembered coming home, passing the tow truck with his father’s Corvair, going up to his room.

  Jeremy heard voices downstairs. Tired footsteps climbed the staircase. A soft knock on the open bedroom door. “Jeremy?”

  “Hi, Grandpa.”

  “Elise was worried.” His grandfather leaned against the door jamb, as though needing the support. “Detective Lieber told us she’d seen you. That you were spending the night here at the house. But your sister was worried.”

  Jeremy hugged his grandfather. “I’m okay, Grandpa.”

  “I told Elise we’d stop by to see you on the way to school.”

  “That’s good. Where is she?”

  His grandfather looked around him, seemingly surprised that Elise wasn’t standing beside him. “Elise?” he called out. “That’s strange. She was so anxious to see you.”

  He and Jeremy hurried down the steps.

  Elise was in the front foyer, standing perfectly still.

  “Hey,” Jeremy said softly. “Are you all right, Ellie?”

  She seemed to be unaware of her surroundings.

  “Elise?”

  She blinked her eyes, as though coming awake. “Oh God, Jeremy.”

  “What is it?”

  “I-I remembered.”

  “What? Remembered what?”

  “Just now. I was standing here and the house was so quiet and I heard his voice.”

  “He’s not here, Ellie,” Jeremy said. “The murderer’s not here.”

  His grandfather was shaking his head. “We never should have come.”

  Jeremy took Elise by the arm, but she pushed him away. “You don’t understand. I know he’s not here now. But I remembered. I remembered what he said.”

  “You remember his words?”

  She nodded. She was trembling, an excited trembling, like when a kid’s had too much soda or chocolate. “Your-your mama’
s calling you.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what he said. ‘Your mama’s calling you.’”

  “What on earth?” his grandfather said. “Who would say such a thing?”

  Elise’s eyes were glassy.

  “We’d better go, Elise,” his grandfather said. “I’m not as fast a driver as you, and you don’t want to be late for school.”

  “That’s a good idea, Grandpa,” Jeremy said.

  “I need to stay here,” said Elise.

  “Why in the world?” his grandfather said.

  “There’s something I’m almost remembering, but I only feel it here. In the house.” She tightened her arms around her as though chilled. “I know it’s connected to my nightmares.”

  “Why would you want to awaken your nightmares?” his grandfather asked.

  “Because I can’t stand the feeling of almost remembering. It’s so close to the surface. I, I keep touching it, but then I lose it. Please, Grandpa. Please let me stay.”

  His grandfather’s eyes begged Jeremy for help.

  “You have to get to school, Ellie,” Jeremy said. “Why don’t you come back later?”

  “That’s a good idea,” his grandfather said, herding Elise from the room. He glanced back at Jeremy, his expression so distraught that Jeremy turned away.

  The house was silent once again, but Jeremy felt as though conch shells were up against his ears and the sound of crashing waves filled his head.

  Your mama’s calling you.

  It was one of them— Enrique, Liliam, Bud, or Irv. He just needed to figure out which one. Should he call Detective Lieber? Maybe she could put it all together. But Jeremy couldn’t do that. He had to see this through himself.

  Jeremy needed to make him bleed. To writhe in pain. To suffer like an animal at the bottom of a pit as his flesh was consumed by scavengers.

  Suffer. He had to make their murderer suffer.

  He opened the door to his parents’ bedroom. The smell was still wrong. No matter how thoroughly the room had been cleaned, their splattered blood would have seeped through the porous walls and into the wooden floorboards.

  Jeremy sat on the edge of their bed and slid his hand under the pillow. It was where he had left it, soft and small, like a child’s stuffed animal. He held up the red bandanna in the weak light, knowing it contained his hair— his promise to his parents.

  They were watching him, trying to tell him something. What was it? He understood Elise’s need to be in the house. Because here, they still existed. If Jeremy could only listen hard enough, he could hear them.

  Your mama’s calling you.

  He slipped the bandanna into his pocket and went to his father’s closet. The Smith &Wesson 9-millimeter automatic was still in the place his father had shown him when he was fifteen.

  He remembered the thrill. His father taking the gun from a hard plastic case hidden between some blankets and handing it to Jeremy. He had never imagined there had been a gun in his parents’ bedroom closet.

  “I’m going to teach you how to shoot and reload this thing, Jeremy. But I don’t want you saying a word about it to your mother.”

  No chance of that. A secret between Jeremy and his father was far more powerful than any guilt about not telling his mother.

  His father had squeezed his shoulder. “You may be young, but I know you’re responsible. I trust you, Jeremy. I trust you to take care of your family.”

  Jeremy ran his hands over the gun. He’d forgotten that scene until this moment. His father had once trusted him. Believed in him. How much he wanted to forgive his father for all that had happened. How much he wanted him back— alive and well, with all his flaws.

  My son has the character to become the man I’ve been too weak to be.

  Jeremy took the cartridges from their box on the shelf and loaded the gun.

  Chapter 48

  Robbie rested against her crutches, waiting for a taxi outside her townhouse. It was seven forty-five a.m. and her entire body ached. She felt as though she’d been bounced around in a clothes dryer for hours. But the fact was, she had slept most of the day yesterday. The Percocet had dulled her senses, but unfortunately not her memory.

  How could she have come on to Jeremy like that?

  There had been no calls in the almost thirty hours of her deep sleep. PCM, she understood. They often lost track of their auditors, not knowing which client engagement the auditor might be working at on any particular day. So they had no reason to wonder where she was or be concerned by her absence. But she’d been hoping Jeremy would call. Hoping he’d make light of the other night. But he hadn’t, and that could mean only one thing. That she’d stepped over a boundary and irrevocably damaged their friendship.

  She studied her cell phone. Should she call him? But what would she say? That she was sorry about the other night? Wouldn’t Jeremy already know that? But if he did, why hadn’t he come by to see her or at least call?

  Two newspapers still in their yellow plastic wrappers were lying on the lawn. She threw them behind some bushes, wondering if anything important had happened in the outside world while she had slept.

  No. She wouldn’t call. It would be too awkward. And then he might ask what she was doing now. And she couldn’t tell him she’d decided to go to the office despite her condition. He’d surely be disgusted with her then, if he wasn’t already.

  There was honking in the street. The taxi had come.

  The PCM offices were quiet when she arrived ten minutes later. Although she lived close by, she couldn’t drive with her broken right ankle. She could smell coffee brewing and hear joking voices coming from down the hall. She propelled herself toward the partners’ offices on her crutches, sweating and breathing hard as she went. She couldn’t believe how much work it was to thrust her body weight forward.

  She passed Gladys’s desk, relieved to see she wasn’t there. Although it was early, she was hoping Bud would be in and she could speak with him without his assistant running interference.

  The accident had brought Robbie an epiphany. What was she doing chasing paper? The answer wasn’t going to be hidden in a pile of old reports. Rachel had already gone that route and had concluded the only way to find the truth was to go to the Olympus Grande.

  But the other night had also changed Robbie. There had been a sense of release when she’d asked Jeremy to make love to her. She was following her instincts and not overanalyzing things the way she usually did. While the lack of control disturbed her, there was also something thrilling about it. And, like a junkie, she craved another fix.

  Robbie caught her breath as she stopped outside Bud’s office. She knocked. There was no answer. “Damn,” she muttered.

  “Jesus, Robbie.” Bud’s voice surprised her from behind. “What the hell happened to you?”

  She touched the bruise on her forehead. What a mess she must look like. But at least Bud gave no indication he knew about the file room accident. “I fell down some stairs,” she said. “At a friend’s house.”

  “You look like hell. What are you doing at the office? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  “I’m okay. Just a broken ankle. I can work.”

  He shook his head and opened the door to his office. He was less formally dressed than usual, in a casual shirt and sports jacket.

  “Do you mind if I speak with you for a few minutes?” she said, hopping after him.

  He glanced down at his watch. “I wasn’t even planning on coming in this morning.”

  “It’s kind of important.”

  Bud looked impatient. “Then why don’t we set up an appointment for tomorrow late afternoon? I wouldn’t want to rush you.”

  “Actually.” Robbie struggled to hoist herself forward, closer to his desk.

  Bud was thumbing through some papers, found the ones he was looking for, and slipped them into his briefcase. The worn leather strap that usually hung on the hook behind his desk was missing. Robbie had always found its presence distu
rbing.

  “It’s about the Olympus.”

  Bud gave her an odd look. “What about the Olympus?”

  “The site visits.”

  He waited for her to continue.

  “I was thinking now that Rachel’s gone, National may be concerned with the independence issue, again.”

  “Meaning?” He remained standing.

  “They may want to bring in another partner. To replace Rachel. You know, so there’s no perception of impropriety.”

  “And let me understand this, Robbie. Were you going to remind National of their obligation?”

  “No, of course not. I’m just concerned they may realize this on their own. Bringing in someone new would be a terrible inconvenience to Castillo Enterprises. I thought there may be a way to placate National, at least for now.”

  “And your suggestion is?” He glanced again at his watch.

  “Well, the biggest area of exposure is the Olympus Grande. It’s Castillo Enterprises’s major source of profits. The problem is, no one other than you and Irv has done a physical review of the property in years.” Her upper lip was perspiring, but she didn’t dare wipe it. “I think if someone else visits the property, that would eliminate National’s concern.”

  Bud sat down in his chair, carefully adjusting his jacket so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “Why don’t you have a seat, Robbie?”

  She hobbled over to the guest chair and awkwardly rested her crutches against it. The chess game that was always in progress on his desk was in its final stages with only a few pieces still standing.

  “You bring up some interesting points.” He folded his fingers, no longer in a rush. “Did you have someone in mind to do this independent site visit?”

  “I was thinking I should.” There was a nervous palpitation in her chest. The controlling side of her brain was battling with the newly ascendant impulsive side.

  “You think you should,” Bud said flatly.

  “I’m most familiar with the client. I’m senior on the job, under you and Irv.”

  “It’s hilly with rustic paths; how would you get around?”

  “I’d manage.” The two feuding sides of her brain had worked a compromise. First, she’d get Bud to agree. Then, she’d insist on bringing a couple of staff people along with her. She certainly wasn’t reckless enough to go to the Olympus Grande by herself.