by Ally Carter
“It’s not for me, and it’s not for Hale.”
“Then who is it for?”
“Marianne.” Kat laughed a little at his naiveté. They had come all this way and still he didn’t see the truth. “It was always for Marianne.”
“The maid?”
“The person you wrote out of the will. That was a stupid move, by the way. If you’d left her in, none of this would have happened.”
“Oh, I know.” He took a sip of his drink and rolled his eyes. “But Hazel wanted her to be the trustee, and I couldn’t have that, could I? She always was annoyingly honest.”
“Good people have a tendency to be that way. Makes me glad I don’t know that many.”
“Okay. The maid gets ten million. And that’s it?” He looked at Kat as if she were some rare species of human being. “You’re not going to try to save your boyfriend’s family business?”
“No, Mr. Garrett.” Kat slipped on her jacket and crossed the room. “I’m trying to save my boyfriend.”
Walking to the door, Kat knew she should have felt at ease. It was over. Almost. But something tugged at her, a lingering doubt she couldn’t silence, a steady whisper in her ear.
“Just one more thing.” Kat suddenly stopped. “Hale never sees you—or your daughter—again.”
A condescending smile spread across Garrett’s face.
“Anything else?”
“Do we have a deal, Mr. Garrett?”
He nodded. “Deal.”
“Tomorrow at noon. Grand Central Station. I’ll expect you there in person.”
“And have you show up with the authorities? I don’t think so.”
“Fine,” Kat conceded. “We’ll do it in…Niagara Falls. On the Canadian side. Far out of New York jurisdiction. How does that sound?”
“I didn’t peg you for a tourist.”
“Let’s just say I’m a girl who appreciates a crowd. There’s a scenic overlook a mile past the border. Bring ten million in untraceable bonds and don’t be late. If you are, I will personally make sure every member of my family knows there’s a price on your head. You’d be surprised how many of them are good at stealing people.”
The man smiled and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
“Forgive me if I can’t say the same.”
It didn’t matter how close Kat sat to the fire in Uncle Eddie’s drawing room; she still couldn’t get warm. She kept seeing Garrett’s cold smile, his black eyes. And she kept wondering if Hale would ever forgive her, knowing he was the one person whom she could never, ever con into forgetting her mistakes.
“Out of the frying pan…” she said to herself, unable to shake the feeling that it was just a matter of time until she got burned.
“You didn’t eat.” Uncle Eddie’s voice was gruff and sleepy as he came into the room. “Come, Katarina. I’ll make you something.”
“I’m not hungry,” she told him, and the old man shrugged.
“That’s a pity.” He dropped into a chair not far away. “My hands.” He looked down, held them against the light of the fire. “I don’t know what to do with them. It would have been nice to have a task.”
“Sorry. I wish I could be more help.”
He gave a shrug as if to say he’d grown used to disappointment, then propped a foot up on the coffee table, which was covered with photos and albums, the prep materials that nobody really needed anymore.
“I wish I’d known her.” Kat picked up the album that showed an image of Hale’s grandmother on her wedding day, standing between Reginald and her new husband.
“Have the boys found him?” Eddie asked, and Kat shook her head. The old man drew a deep breath then leaned back in his chair. “Your young man will be fine, Katarina.”
“I know,” Kat said.
“All young men must find their way. Yours is just a little off course at the moment.”
“He misses Hazel.”
Eddie nodded slowly. “I’m sure he does.”
And then Eddie struggled to his feet. Kat hated those moments—the seconds, really, where his hands would shake or his knees subtly refused to bear his weight. There was nothing as painful to Katarina Bishop as the gentle reminders that she was not the only member of her family who was growing older, that someday she too would be left with nothing but a book full of pictures and memories.
“If I lost you…” Kat’s voice broke. She couldn’t meet his eyes, so she stared down at the flames.
“You’re not going to lose me, Katarina.”
“Promise?”
Eddie gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Would I lie?”
She wanted to believe him, to know that it was true. But there were some things even the great Uncle Eddie couldn’t stop—and fate, as it turned out, was one of them.
“Go to sleep, Katarina. This thing we do tomorrow…it is not an easy thing.”
“Is it the right thing?” she asked.
He nodded. “It is the best thing. And that is all any grifter can hope for.”
She heard him shuffle down the hall. A moment later, a door opened and closed, and Kat was left alone with her thoughts and the fire and the spinning earth that was slowly making its way toward tomorrow.
Anything that can go wrong…will. It was the law of the grift, the rule of the con. If the mark is told to come alone, he won’t. If you’re supposed to have three exit routes, you’ll be lucky to get one. And never, ever believe a weatherman when he says it isn’t going to rain.
So Kat was more than a little surprised to see the sun so bright and clear overhead as she stepped out onto the wide scenic area overlooking the falls. Mist clung to the air, and a rainbow formed over the waters below, and it was beautiful, there at the top of the world. She might have actually enjoyed it if her whole body hadn’t been trembling.
“Deep breaths, Katarina,” Uncle Eddie said. “It steadies the nerves.”
As was her habit, she took her uncle’s advice.
At least two dozen tourists were already there, posing for pictures with the falls at their back, plugging quarters into the big old-fashioned machines that could let a person see right down onto the rocky shores. Kat counted ten cars and one school bus, but none of them belonged to the man who had completely ruined her May.
“Maybe he’s not coming,” she said, jamming her gloved hands deeper into her pockets.
“He’ll be here,” Eddie said. He sounded so certain, so sure, so at home there at the end of a job.
“What if this is the wrong call?”
“It is the only call, Katarina.” He gave her a long look that she’d never seen before. He sounded different, not like he was talking to his niece, but like he was talking to a peer. “This is how it ends.”
“Thank you.” Kat reached out and took his hands. “Thank for doing this. Thank you for always being there for me.”
“That, Katarina, is my job.” He looked out over the horizon. “And my pleasure.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“Kat?” Simon’s voice was in her head.
“Blasted contraptions.” Eddie flinched and poked a finger in his ear, but Kat stopped him before he could pull the earbud out.
“What is it, Simon?” Kat said.
“Our guy is heading your way.”
She looked at Uncle Eddie. “It’s showtime.”
The two of them stepped away from the road and watched a black SUV pull into the overlook, its big tires crunching in the gravel. Kat stood waiting for her first sight of Garrett, but instead, the driver’s-side door opened, and the goon from the night before stepped out.
“Hands up,” the hired thug said, and Kat had to laugh a little. The thug, however, didn’t see what was funny.
“Old man. Teenage girl.” Kat pointed between her uncle and herself, but the goon didn’t seem to know that, for all their skills, neither Eddie nor Kat were really known for their physical prowess, so he patted them down just the same.
“Yay,” Kat said when Garrett emerged. “You’re here.”
“You’ve got a smart mouth,” he told her.
Eddie shrugged. “It runs in the family.”
“Oh yes,” Garrett said, stepping slowly around them. “Uncle Reginald. Or is it Edward? It’s so good to see you again.”
“Can we get this over with?” Kat asked.
Garrett held his hands out wide. “You’re the boss.”
“Did you bring it?” Kat asked.
“You’ll get your money.”
“It’s not for me,” Kat said again. “It’s for—”
“The maid,” Garrett cut her off. “I know. I know. You’re…noble.”
“Yeah. You should try it sometime,” Kat said.
Garrett looked at the goon and commanded, “Give me the case.”
The man walked to the SUV and pulled out a silver briefcase. He handed it to Garrett, who held it like it was precious, gripping it too tightly for Kat’s liking.
“Are you going to hand that over nicely or do we need to have a talk about honor among thieves?” she asked, but before the man could answer, a car pulled into the overlook.
It was different from the minivans and tour buses. Black and sleek, and driven by a chauffer named Marcus.
“Oh, no,” Kat said, but Hale was already out of the car and moving toward her.
“Kat?” His voice was too soft somehow. It scared her. “Kat, what is going on? What are you doing here…with him?”
“It’s okay, Hale.” Kat moved gingerly toward him. “Why don’t you go wait in the car and I’ll explain in a little—”
“What are you doing here?” He looked between Kat and Eddie and then finally to the man with the silver case.
“Hale, wait. It’s not what it—”
“What? Looks like? Sounds like? What’s in the case, Kat?”
“He’s going to pay Marianne. We’re going to be able to take care of her.”
“So you’re here to make a deal with the man who killed my grandmother? I’m so glad I didn’t jump to any conclusions.”
“Hale…” Kat lunged to block his way. “Hale, calm down.”
“I’m not going to calm down!” he shouted, and it felt to Kat like the whole mountain trembled. She half feared an avalanche. Tourists stared. School groups snapped pictures. But she couldn’t do a thing to stop him.
“You killed Hazel,” Hale said. “You!”
Hale lunged toward Garrett. He might have reached him, too—might have killed him—had the goon not been there. He reached for Hale and held him back, squeezed his arms against his side. Garrett looked at the boy.
“You never learned your place, Scooter.” He pulled back a fist.
“No!” Kat shouted, but Eddie was rushing forward, far faster than Kat had ever imagined he could move. The goon let Hale go and raced for his boss, but he was too late. In a flash, Eddie was on the lawyer, and the lawyer was spinning, striking the old man across the head with the metal briefcase. Blood rushed from Eddie’s mouth and he stumbled, disoriented, too close to the edge.
“No!” Kat yelled again, but she didn’t hear the word. She heard nothing at all. Not the crunch of the rocks. Not the breaking of the barrier as it crumbled at her uncle’s back. And Kat didn’t hear the screaming that came with the fall—fading with the sound of the water and the cries of the people who stared over the edge.
She didn’t hear or feel or say a thing. Her own legs gave way and she was on the ground, damp grass bleeding through her jeans, freezing her, numbing her.
“No,” Garrett said. “It’s not true. It’s a trick. They’re con men,” he yelled, as if that could explain everything, make it all make perfect sense.
“That man’s dead,” a bystander said flatly, but Garrett just pushed him aside and stared for himself through one of the cameras trained on the falls below.
“He’s…He can’t be…” Garrett stumbled away from the sight, pale as ghost, but Kat kept crawling toward the ledge.
“I’ll go get him,” she said. “I’ll get him and then we can bring him to the hospital.…” She stumbled to her feet. “I have to get him.”
But she didn’t move—couldn’t move because Hale’s arms were around her so tightly her feet no longer touched the ground.
“Let me go, Hale. I have to go get him and help him up.”
“No, Kat. No.”
“Let me go!”
“No.” Fury faded, and Kat knew Hale wasn’t going to let her near the edge.
“I have to get him, Hale.”
“No,” he said, and held her tighter. “I have you.”
“Mr. Garrett,” the goon said. “We have to get you out of here.”
“He fell,” Garrett said.
“Your fingerprints are all over that case, sir, and now that case is lying by his body and covered with his blood. You have to leave. Now.”
They didn’t seem to care about the crying girl or the crumpled body. They just drove away, wheels spinning, the SUV disappearing into the mist.
There wasn’t really a manhunt, not in the traditional sense. No one alerted Interpol. There were no roadblocks or Wanted posters. No one in a position of authority was going to care too much about the death of the king of the thieves.
Sure, the tabloids had all picked up on the news that Reginald Hale had gone over Niagara Falls, and by morning the rumors would be rampant; but for that night, at least, the streets were dark and the stove was cold. Kat couldn’t look at it. But she couldn’t look away either.
“Kat,” Hale told her, “you should get some sleep.”
“No.” She pushed his hand away.
“Come on. You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.”
But before Kat could protest, there was a knock on the door.
“That’s probably the boys,” Hale said, but he was wrong.
Kat knew as much as soon as she heard Natalie’s voice say, “Hey, Scoot.”
“Go away.” He tried to slam the door in her face, but Kat caught the edge, held it there, and glared at the girl on the stoop.
“What do you want?” Kat didn’t want to look the girl in the eyes, but she had to.
“I heard about what happened and… Are you okay, Kat?” Natalie asked.
“What do you want?” Kat said again.
“I’m so sorry, Kat. And Hale, I never thought my dad would forge a DNR. You’ve got to believe me.”
She reached for Hale’s hand, but he pulled it out of her grasp.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said, and for a moment, Kat thought he might hit her. “But you have to leave.”
“No, Hale. Listen. I know…I know I did a terrible thing, but I never dreamed my father would hurt Hazel.”
“Really?” Hale was shouting, and Kat doubted he even knew it. “What did you think he would do?”
“I don’t know.” Natalie bit her lip. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I just… He’s not a strong man. He’s angry and bitter and… You don’t know what it’s like—being near you. All of you. The Hales. You’re larger than life, you know that, right? With your houses and your jets. You have everything.”
Hale stood trembling, and Kat thought about the boy in the Superman pajamas. He’d had nothing.
But Natalie talked on. “Then my dad told me about the prototype.” She shrugged as if she wasn’t sure who or what to believe anymore. “He was so desperate to get out from under your family’s shadow, so I said that if he felt the Hales owed him so much, he should do something about it.”
“But Hazel fired him,” Kat said. She thought about the carbon copy of the letter that she’d found in Hazel’s desk.
“Yeah.” Natalie nodded. She looked impressed that Kat knew. “He was just going to take the prototype and sell it and…no one was supposed to get hurt. No one was ever supposed to die.”
“That’s the thing about being a c
riminal,” Kat told her. “Nothing ever goes according to plan.”
“What do you want, Natalie?” Hale was deflating. It was like the fight was leaving his body, and all that was left was an empty, hollow shell.
“I’m sorry. And I just want to make it right.”
“You think you can say you’re sorry?” Hale yelled, and Kat knew that it must have felt good. Like crying. He must have wanted to purge all the excess emotion from his body, because he yelled louder. “You think that makes it okay?”
Natalie shook her head. Tears streamed down her face. “No. No. Of course not. I just—”
“What?” Hale yelled. “Tell me why I shouldn’t spend the rest of my life trying to destroy you.”
“The prototype,” Natalie blurted.
“I don’t care about the prototype.” Hale’s voice was flat and cold and even.
“You can still save the company,” Natalie said. “You can still do what Hazel would have wanted.”
“Don’t say her name,” Hale snapped. “You don’t have the right to say her name.”
“I know.” Natalie looked at the ground. “But if you want it, then you should know that my dad is meeting with a new buyer. In Switzerland. After…what happened…he knew he was going to have to disappear, so he decided to sell it. Now. Tomorrow. If you hurry, you can catch him.”
“Where is he?” Kat asked.
“Zurich. He’s meeting his buyer on the twelve-ten to Geneva. They’ll be in the last car on the train.”
Hale pushed away from the door and rushed down the hall. Kat couldn’t tell if he had calls to make or if he just couldn’t stand to be in Natalie’s presence one second longer. It didn’t matter. For a moment, Kat was alone with the girl from Hale’s past, the girl who had been there long before Kat had climbed through his window. Part of her wondered about what might have happened if she had never come and he had never left. Nat might have been perfect for him. For Scooter. But Scooter was gone. And despite everything, Kat felt sorry for Natalie. After all, most girls don’t get to choose their families.
“I really am sorry, Kat,” Natalie tried one last time, but Kat said nothing. She wasn’t in the mood to make peace. “If he ever decides to forgive me…”