“Yes, Morgan.”
He didn’t apologize for interrupting anything that might not be happening, just said, “Any chance we can move my meeting with Mr. Funaki to sometime tomorrow? I’d like to handle some things in New York as soon as possible.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Before his mother’s stove was installed, she called back. He would meet Mr. Funaki over dinner tomorrow night. Reservations were made. She had sent him all pertinent details. He said, “You know you’re the greatest, right?”
“You know it too. Merry Christmas.”
Laughing softly, he checked the information she sent shortly after. His morning flight might give him enough time to meet with William first. He didn’t expect clear sailing, but he’d breathe easier when all this was behind them.
“You’re talking to him tomorrow?” Erin said with a hitch in her diaphragm when Morgan explained his change of plans. She appreciated his motivation but regretted his losing time with his family. They’d scarcely finished Christmas dinner, and she knew his sisters wanted the next few days to reconnect.
She bit her lip. “Should I go with you?”
Morgan tipped his head. “You can if you want. But it might be better to let me present the situation first. Let William take a look at it all before we involve you.”
“I am involved, Morgan. It’s you who shouldn’t be.”
He smiled. “I’ll be there on business already. Talking with William will simply get the ball rolling.” The words came too lightly.
She narrowed her eyes. “What aren’t you saying?”
Realizing she wasn’t fooled, he drew a slow breath. “Worst-case scenario, when he contacts the FBI, they could issue a warrant for your arrest. As an officer of the law, William would be obligated to produce you.”
Her mouth fell slack. “Seriously?”
“I said worst case. If you’re not there, it’s a nonissue.”
She slumped against the piano in the music room, where last night she’d felt radiant with joy. Suddenly, missing family time seemed small.
“I don’t think that will happen. William is highly respected and feared. If the feds can get what they want without having to engage him in court, it would be the better part of valor.”
“What will he do?”
“I don’t know exactly. I need to give him the Cayman account information, and he’ll use it to your benefit.”
Respected and feared or not, how much could he do? She took a pad and paper from the bookshelf drawer, wrote the account number, passwords, everything.
He raised his brows. “You memorized it?”
“Anything else would have been careless.” She tucked the hair behind her ear. “The money was God’s. I didn’t want anyone finding it before I made it right.”
“You’re a marvel.”
“Well, go keep your marvel out of jail.”
“Yeah.” He took her hands and kissed her. “I’m a bit of a marvel myself.”
Learning Quinn was married and expecting obliterated the beauty Hannah had briefly revealed. She’d become a whining shrew even her mother tolerated with difficulty. Thomas had walled himself off in his study to prepare a sermon he hoped would still the waters of the storm that could arise. Markham had no intention of weathering it. He didn’t need their acceptance. All he needed he could get from the old man—access to Quinn. Take it. Take him. Break him.
He shook his head, surprised to hear the voice outside Quinn’s house where it first insinuated. Maybe a half-life on the drug. Didn’t they claim it caused flashbacks? Or had the voice come before he broke the glass? That seemed the order when he thought back, though it didn’t matter.
“Markham?” A sweetness entered Hannah’s tone when she said his name.
She was trying. Part of him understood there was simply too much bitterness, a critical mass that became undissolvable by even floods of tears.
“What are you doing?”
He said, “I have to go out.”
“Why?”
He forced the irritation out of his response. “Have I asked you to explain every move you make?”
“No.” She shrank in. “I’m sorry.”
As though sorry mattered. “I won’t be long.” Take him. Break him. Make him pay.
It was almost a serenade as he drove, when he parked, and while he closed in on his quarry. Why had he hated hunting? There was no exhilaration to compare—when it wasn’t dumb animals, but a deserving prey.
What had he done to earn the old man’s vitriol? Nothing. He’d spoken no harsh word, taken not one cent from the skinflint’s fist. The old rebel had formed an opinion from his own wasted soul—and Quinn’s whispers no doubt. How close they were, the outcasts, misfits, miscreants. Break them. Break them both.
He shook the voice away. What he did now must be his choice, no one else telling him what to do. No orders. Never again. Sweet silence seeped in and with it a clarity of purpose on this cold, clear day.
As retribution coursed through him like quicksilver in his veins, Markham crept up behind the old man hunkered on the shore between his small house and the Fall River. A fishing pole hung idly in the half-frozen flow, as Corlin hollered into his phone. “Quinn, darlin’, your father’s a horse’s rump and your mother never grew a backbone. If you don’t speak sense to your sister, she’ll marry that rotted soul. And mark my words, he’ll be acting the maggot and her too simple to see.”
Cold fire turned the silver to steel as Markham slowly bent and gripped a rock.
“I’ve tried, lass. You know I have. On your grandmother’s sainted soul, I’ve tried. They have less an ear for me than you.” As the old man listened to Quinn on the phone, Markham raised the rock.
“Aye, well, the devil takes his due. You’re well away from here, my girl. And maybe you should stay. But know I love you with all my heart.” He dabbed a tear. “Aye, lass. Aye.”
As Corlin closed the phone and held it loosely in his palm, Markham tightened his muscles and struck.
Wishing badly that Morgan was there to discuss it, Erin pocketed her phone and looked across the kitchen at Celia.
“Something wrong?”
“Yes, and I don’t know what to do.”
Celia listened, head cocked, while her daughters worked around them in a synchrony of kitchen chores. They all heard as she explained her grandfather’s request, but they seemed to realize it was Celia’s opinion she sought. Erin spread her hands. “I want to help, but I’m the last person Hannah would listen to. She truly hates me.”
Surprisingly, Celia didn’t offer a typical rebuttal, like “Surely not.” She said, “Frustrating, but you can’t walk through closed doors. From what you’ve said, Hannah locked this one a long time ago.”
Erin looked at Morgan’s sisters. Although they worked quietly—amazing given their normal volume—there were looks and murmurs and genial interplay she’d never had with Hannah. And what about her parents? If Morgan was right, and they built a world around Hannah’s limitations, where did that leave an eager, precocious child?
She began to suspect they not only hadn’t planned the interruption of their myth, they hadn’t wanted her rocking Hannah’s boat. Why else would every argument have gone Hannah’s way, even when it had to be obvious she’d been at fault? She remembered times when her grandparents pointed out inequities and were brushed aside or silenced. After Grandma Pearl went to heaven, Pops kept up the fight, fueling the war.
“My father gave his blessing on their marriage,” she told Celia, feeling hurt and bewildered. “Even now.” How could she penetrate a myopia that saw no further than his own mindset?
“Erin, to recognize Markham’s guilt, he’d have to see his own. How much easier to believe God’s miracle got blocked by unbelief than to admit he was wrong.”
“But the court proved it.”
“A worldly institution that sometimes gets it wrong. Jesus was tried and convicted and put to death as a criminal.”
Seeing her distress, Celia said, “If you’ll forgive me another maxim, when water can’t flow one way, it finds another.”
In the bacon-and-onion-scented kitchen, she thought about that. She could do nothing for Hannah, but knowing Markham and her sister were with her parents, preparing to wed, there was someone she could help. “Celia, could Livie stay with you if I left for a couple days?”
“Yes, of course, but I thought you couldn’t do anything.”
“I can’t help my sister. But there’s a friend who needs something in Juniper Falls, and I may not get another chance.” Morgan had left for New York not an hour before, but she had the prepaid Visa cards he’d given her. “If I get this coordinated, could someone give me a ride to the airport?”
Celia looked troubled but nodded. “I’m sure someone could.”
Erin went into the music room and phoned RaeAnne. “I’m buying you a plane ticket. Get ready to meet me in Denver.”
Morgan tried calling Erin to say he’d landed and was on his way to meet William. There was no reason to talk to her. He simply wanted to reassure her one more time. Or maybe he only wanted to hear her voice. When she didn’t answer, he called Noelle.
“How’s Livie?”
She laughed. “Three hours, Morgan? She’s fine. Loving time with Grammy and Gramps.”
“Naturally.” He hadn’t been worried, only interested. “Is Erin close? She called earlier but didn’t leave a message, and she’s not answering her phone.”
“She’s probably on the plane by now.”
“The plane?”
“She flew to Denver to meet RaeAnne. I’m sure that’s why she called you.”
Adrenaline surged. Through clenched teeth he said, “In what world did that make sense?”
“Markham’s with her family, Morgan.”
“How do you know?”
“Her grandfather told her. He called this morning to say Markham’s marrying her sister. After everything.”
He drew a solid breath. “You’re saying Markham’s not in Juniper Falls?”
“He and Hannah are at her father’s house. Her grandfather saw them.”
If that was true, Erin hadn’t exaggerated her dad’s obstinacy. And it did give her the opportunity she’d been hoping for. His heart rate calmed, the panic subsiding.
“She took the chance to help RaeAnne meet her dad, Morgan. You know how much that means to her.”
“Yes, I know.” The worst layer of shock peeled away. “Do you know when she’s landing?”
“They’re meeting at DIA around one o’clock Mountain Time and driving to Juniper Falls.”
“Okay. Thanks, Noelle.” He might not have advocated it, but he knew how RaeAnne’s situation was weighing on his soft-hearted wife. As soon as he finished in New York, he could meet her out there. Pocketing the phone, he reminded himself Erin wasn’t Livie. She could make decisions on her own, and did. He settled in for the drive.
The last time he’d been to William’s Long Island estate he’d been reuniting Noelle with Rick after their heartrending split. Now William’s firm handshake drew him inside, where Ellen’s two-handed grasp was as familiar as she got. Decades as the watchdog assistant to William St. Claire, Esq., created a formality she’d never shed, even though she had been his wife for the last five years.
“Wonderful to see you, Ellen.” He squeezed her hands in return.
“How is your new and controversial wife?” William asked with a gleam in his eye.
For a moment he thought someone had exposed her legal woes, then realized Noelle must have filled him in on the family strife. “Words can’t come close.” He tried not to look like a lovesick goon. “And actually it’s Erin who brings me here. A legal matter.”
“Oh?” William paused at the library doors. “Would you like something hot, or will brandy do while we talk?”
“Coffee would be great,” he told Ellen. “Keep me from glazing over when William gets technical.”
“You mean boring,” William said.
Laughing, they entered the library. Over cups of Costa Rican wet-processed Arabica, Morgan laid out Erin’s situation as clearly as possible, then asked, “Is it serious?”
William answered gravely. “It’s not inconsiderable. In essence, she withheld information during trial and discovery and thwarted the recovery of funds she misappropriated.”
“She hasn’t used the money.”
“Then the better word is stole.”
Morgan frowned. “Will they push this accomplice angle?”
“Her blowing the whistle and testifying argues against collusion, though partners have been known to take the other down. I’ve seen it a few times myself.” He pulled a wry smile.
While seeing the humor, Morgan had to work at enjoying it. “All she wanted was an apology, for someone to admit she’d done the right thing. She was twenty-three and idealistic.”
“Not a legal defense.”
Morgan frowned. “Then what do we have?”
Every inch the top-tier criminal defense attorney, William said, “We have the money.”
RaeAnne squeezed her hard, laughing and crying when they met at the baggage claim. “This is it. This is really it.”
Erin squeezed her back. “Not Christmas Day, but close enough?”
“Oh, Quinn.” RaeAnne kissed her cheeks. “You are the best friend. But, oh, I forgot to ask. How are you feeling?”
“So far, so good.”
“That’s great. I know a gal who got sick the day she got pregnant and stayed that way until she pushed her baby out.”
“Delightful.” Erin shouldered her carryon. “Noelle’s still not doing all that great. But I felt her baby kick. It was . . .” She laughed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t about me, RaeAnne. It’s about you and your dad. What’s the plan?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Ye-es.”
“Well, I have an address. So I . . .” She fanned herself with her hand. “Do I just go?”
Erin smiled. “First, we’ll get to the car rentals.”
“Oh good. Baby steps.”
“Hold on.” Erin fished her phone out. “It’s Morgan.”
RaeAnne took three steps backward and raised her fingers in a wave.
Drawing a deep breath, she answered. “Morgan, I tried to call, several times. I left you a message when I landed, and—”
“Erin.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t need excuses or explanations. You assessed the situation and used your judgment. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Warmth filled her. “Really?”
“You’re bright, decisive, and you care. Good combination.”
Her eyes burned. “I have a feeling this is going to be a tearful pregnancy.”
He laughed softly. “One thing, okay? I don’t want you anywhere near your old place.”
“We’re planning to stay at the ranch, in your cabin.”
“Okay. But he knows that connection.”
“He’s not there.” Everything Pops told her poured out. “I’m sure they’re making wedding plans, and God only knows what. He’ll have the whole church believing I’m Jezebel and he’s weeping Jeremiah in the well.” She was mixing prophetic stories, but whatever.
A team of teen girls and four adults in matching warm-ups went noisily past.
“I know that hurts.”
“I should be used to it.”
“Well, as you said, it gives you this chance. I trust your judgment, but if anything seems off, pay attention.”
“I will.”
“Now, listen to me, and I don’t want you to argue.” His tone grew so serious it slowed her heart. “There’s a gun in the Maserati glove box.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “I don’t—”
“Just have it in the cabin in case. The car’s in Rick’s barn.” He told
her where to find the spare key he hadn’t grabbed when they left and gave her the alarm code. “I didn’t lock the glove box in case I needed quick access.”
She listened half disbelieving. “I had no idea it was there.”
“I didn’t want to scare you.” His voice thickened. “But I want you to have it ready.”
“Then I will.”
Okay,” he said. “Good luck to RaeAnne. Hope it goes well.”
She smiled. “I love you.”
“Love you more.” She heard the sincerity in his graveled voice.
Holding the phone to her chest for a moment, she sighed, then she and RaeAnne joined others getting the ground-transportation shuttle.
RaeAnne studied her as they rode to the lot, and then as she got behind the steering wheel. “You all right, honey?”
She told her what Morgan said. RaeAnne brushed off the part about the gun and focused on the heart of it. “I’m glad he wasn’t angry about not knowing.”
She was still riding that wave. “It’s the first time anyone’s trusted my judgment.”
“Well, it’s about time. You’re like a catalyst for all sorts of good things.”
And yet Morgan was in New York trying to keep her out of jail. She hadn’t even asked if he’d met with William. Her concern notched up. They shouldn’t waste any time. “Let’s go directly there, RaeAnne. Let’s meet your dad.”
She drew a shaky breath. “All right. It’s only been forty years. Why wait?”
His address was in one of the two small condominium complexes in Juniper Falls. While not a specified retirement community, it apparently catered to seniors. The walkways were ramped and the outer doors equipped with automatic switches at handicapped level. The lodge-style buildings were surrounded by spruce and Douglas fir trees, snow cleared from the walkways but lying unmelted on the shaded lawns.
They entered the building and walked to his unit. At the door, Erin turned to RaeAnne. “Are you ready?”
“I think so.” She squeezed the hand Erin rested on her arm. “Thanks for being here.”
Erin rang the bell, a little anxious, though nothing like what RaeAnne had to be feeling.
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