RISE - Part Three (The RISE Series Book 3)

by Deborah Bladon

  "Me?" I touch my left ear wondering if I misheard what Everett just said to me. "Landon's father wants to see me?"

  "His attorney called me this morning." He shifts on the small chair in the crowded café we're sitting in.

  He'd called just as I was leaving Gabriel's office. He told me that he had something to talk about that was better discussed face-to-face. Since I haven't spoken to anyone in my family yet today about my father's upcoming arraignment hearing tomorrow, I'd panicked.

  When I asked him point blank about my father, he had assured me that everything was on track. He didn’t anticipate any hiccups. He simply wanted to go over something with me in person before he left for Boston in the morning.

  "Why would he want to see me?"

  "I can think of any number of reasons," he says calmly. "Your lives have intersected on many levels, Tess."

  "Am I allowed to talk to him?" It's a genuine question. I've thought about going to see him myself more than once. It's never been about lashing out at him over what happened with my father, or Landon. My pull towards him has always been to understand more about the man who single handily ruined so many people's lives only to return on a whim.

  "I don't see why not." He glances at the silver wristwatch on his arm. "Do you want me to arrange that for you?"

  I answer before I have time to consider the far reaching consequences of what I'm agreeing to. "Yes. I want to see him. Make it happen."

  Chapter 15

  "I thought you'd bring Landon with you." My father pats my shoulder. "I want to meet him."

  I feared when my father walked into his favorite pub in Boston with a grin on his face from ear-to-ear that it would disappear as soon as someone brought up Landon's name.

  To avoid it, I'd gathered my siblings and my mother together near the bar before he arrived. I'd prefaced my confession with tender words about how cherished and adored I feel when I'm around Landon. I explained that he's a pilot and has only been kind and considerate to me.

  I knew that the words of congratulations would vanish when I told them his last name. Both of my brothers had walked off in a huff, their hands flying in the air along with harsh words about my loyalties. My sister hadn't said anything before she turned towards the bar, ordering herself a shot of whiskey.

  My mother had been the only one who pulled me into her arms and away from the fray. Her words about fate and circumstance comforted me and as she told me to follow my heart, I thought about her own heart and how it had brought her out of her shell and back into my father's life.

  I don't know enough about his relationship with Gianna to share it with anyone, including my mom. I stood silently, letting her embrace fuel me enough that I stayed to celebrate with my dad.

  "Is he working?" His eyes dart past me to the crowded pub.

  "He has to fly tomorrow," I stop myself when I realize I have no idea where Landon is going. In the excitement of my father's release, I hadn't asked.

  His hands grasp mine, his thumbs running over my palms. "He's not staying away because of what his old man did, is he? I don't place blame on the son for his father's sins."

  "No," I say assuredly. "He's not like that. If he could have been here, he would have."

  "I'll meet him soon then." He nods his chin towards the bar where both my brothers are sitting, each nursing their second beer of the day. "I know they're not happy about it, Tess."

  I look over at them. They're the same two boys I grew up with. The only difference now is that they have families of their own to think about. Their reactions are based solely on that. They don't want anything threatening our family again and to them, Landon and his father compromise a single entity based on their shared last name.

  "They don't know him."

  My dad squeezes my hands. "They don't live your life. You make your own choices. No one can tell you who to love. Only your heart can do that."

  I know that logically he's right and my heart does want to love Landon. The only thing holding me back is the nagging feeling that there's much more to know about the connection between my father and Frederick. They may never have met but for some reason, Landon's father had documents, dating back more than a decade, with my father's signature on them.

  ***

  "I would have invited you to come along but I know you have your hands full there."

  I rest my head on the pillows on my bed. It's just after dawn in New York. I'd sent Landon a text message last night wishing him peaceful dreams. He'd responded almost immediately that he was in Greece again. He'd had to trade schedules with another pilot when he raced back to New York after my father's arrest. He wanted to repay the debt quickly, so he'd taken the chance when it was offered to him.

  "I have a lot going on," I admit. "I saw my father yesterday after he was released."

  There's a slight pause on the other end. It's not enough for me to question, but I wonder, almost immediately if he's thinking about Frederick. "How's your dad, Tess?"

  "I think he's okay." I temper my reaction because I don't want to share that he actually called me first thing this morning before Landon did. My father is anxious to talk more about his past. He wants me to fully understand everything about his actions when he signed those insurance documents with the full knowledge of the risks involved.

  "You think he's okay?" he parrots back, his tone slightly amused. "You've been talking to him, haven't you? Or does he have a problem with me? Is he angry about our relationship?"

  There are so many questions that I struggle with the decision about which one to answer first. "My father is fine with us."

  "He's fine with it?"

  The trepidation in his voice is unmistakable. I'm not surprised. My father may well be the only man who has no issue with his daughter dating the son of a man he shares a criminal past with. Landon doesn't understand my father though. His isn't exactly the epitome of responsible parenting.

  "I haven't discussed our relationship in depth with him," I shoot back, mildly irritated by his reluctance to accept my father's reaction. "My dad just wants me to be happy."

  I can hear him moving and what sounds like leather shifting beneath his weight. "Are you at your hotel?"

  "No." His tone is clipped. "I'm at a restaurant. I'm meeting some of the crew here for lunch."

  A small bite of envy flows through me. I know he's on a work trip but I wish he was here with me. I want to talk to him about his father's invitation to meet with him and about my father's relationship with Gianna.

  Discussing either of those things over the phone isn't my first choice, but I don't know that I can wait. I'm scheduled to call Everett at ten this morning about the meeting with Frederick and what time that will happen. Gianna bailed on our dinner the other night under the excuse of a headache. She wants to meet later today.

  "I need to run, Tess." His voice softens. "I'll call you tomorrow morning."

  "Tomorrow morning, my time?" I ask. "Or your time?"

  I hear muffled voices as he speaks to someone there. "New York time. I miss you."

  With that the call ends and takes with it any chance I may have had to tell him about the secrets I don't want to keep.

  Chapter 16

  "You look nothing like your father." His voice is deeper than I remember it.

  I arch a brow. "You're not nearly as handsome as your son."

  That draws a faint smile.

  "Actually," I continue. "Both your sons are much better looking than you. They must resemble their mother."

  "Ah," he raises his index finger in the air. "You have yet to meet Anja. You're lucky."

  I can tell that he's goading me. Our game of cat and mouse began before Frederick Beckett took a seat across from me.

  He was lead into the prisoner's hall with seven other inmates. Their handcuffs were removed one-by-one, with Frederick being the last. His eyes had been trained on my face the entire time. I hadn’t stood when he approached the table I'm sitting at. I didn't extend my hand in greeti
ng. I sat stoically waiting for him to tell me why he requested this meeting.

  I was both nervous and grateful when Everett told me that Frederick wanted to see me right away. I'd sat in the clearance area for more than two hours while the guard there checked over my documents. She wanted to know why I was visiting the prisoner and I was honest.

  I told her that he was my boyfriend's father. It had been enough to grant me the permission I needed to enter the crowded hall so I could take another seat to wait an additional hour.

  "I thought you might bring my son with you." He tilts his head to the right to look over my shoulder. "I don't see him anywhere."

  "He wants nothing to do with you." I tilt my head as well to block his field of vision. "I don't think he'll ever come to see you."

  His lips purse together. "Time has a way of healing. Landon will find it in his heart to forgive me."

  The arrogance oozing from every single one of his pores is nauseating. The man upended the lives of both of his sons and his wife and it doesn't seem to faze him.

  "You came to see me." He claps his hands together. "I had a feeling that if I whistled, you'd run."

  I bite my bottom lip to stave off the urge to tell him to go to hell. He wants that from me. It's how he controls his world. He pushes, others respond, and when it all becomes too much, he's the one who runs.

  "I'll never be able to run as fast, or as far, as you. Wait. I meant swim."

  His eyes narrow. "You're a spitfire. I can see the attraction. My son may have chosen wisely after all."

  I can literally feel my skin crawling at the mention of Landon being his son. I don't understand how he's cut from the same cloth as this. I haven't spent five minutes with the man and it's already too long. "Why am I here?"

  "You're curious. You have questions that only I can answer."

  The fact that he's right doesn't stifle my desire to reach over the table to slap him. I'm not violent. I don't ever feel that type of rage burning within me, but the unyielding yearning to be the source of even a brief flash of his pain is overwhelming.

  "Does she want to talk about her father," his voice trails as he upturns his palms in the air and holds them level. "Or does Ms. Marlow want to talk about my son first?"

  I watch in silence as he moves first his right hand and then the left as if he's balancing a weight in mid-air.

  "If you're not going to choose, I'll do it for you." He claps his hands together so loudly that a guard takes two heavy steps towards the table before he realizes the source of the noise.

  I lean back in the uncomfortable chair I'm sitting in. "I want to know about my dad."

  "Otis Marlow, the inept insurance representative who mistakenly thought a woman like Lydia Keeley could love him. Let's begin there."

  ***

  As he told me about his relationship with Lydia, there were brief flashes of compassion in his tone. They had met while in line at a grocery store. He had been taken by the color of her eyes and the way she looked at him.

  Their affair had been passionate and reckless. In the beginning they had been mindful of being caught so they'd arrange to meet in hotels just outside the city. Things grew more brazen as their attraction increased and by the time they had plotted out a plan to be together, their trysts were taking place in his car or in a hidden alcove at his office.

  She wanted him to leave his wife, and when he refused, Lydia hinted at an affair with another man. She spoke of his kindness and his incessant need to please her. She told Frederick that the man was willing to risk his own freedom to help her financially.

  The draw towards the man was the easy money he could provide. Once she realized how simple her plan was to forge insurance documents using the names of deceased clients, she pulled more men into her web. The operation grew and as it did, Frederick joined her at the reins.

  She cashed in dozens of the policies over a three month period before her disappearance. She'd covered her tracks well by using the men willing to do her biding for her. They set up bank accounts in other countries and used fake documents to create companies that never existed.

  By the time she drove her car to the spot it was found, she had accumulated enough wealth to take care of Frederick and her forever. She'd hid in plain sight in a motel near Logan Airport. A quick change of hair color and a new identity was all she needed.

  "Why didn't you just leave your wife?"

  He looks down to examine the fingernails on his right hand. "Greed."

  "Greed?" I parrot back. "In what sense?"

  "The more you have, the more you want," he says the words without looking at me. "Before Lydia disappeared, she'd set up two life insurance policies for me, or I thought she had."

  I can't contain the grin I feel pulling at the corners of my mouth." You thought she had?"

  He nods slowly. "By the time I'd worked my way back to the hotel after the boating accident, Lydia was gone. All that was left was a suitcase filled with documents. I never saw her again."

  Chapter 17

  I take a small sip of water from a plastic cup I'd filled at a fountain in the corner of the visitor hall. I'd told Frederick that I had to stretch my legs. I actually just needed a few minutes to process everything he's told me.

  "I saw you on that flight from Milan." He taps his fingers against the table. "I saw my son stop in the terminal to look at you."

  I wasn't sure if he'd remember me. I highly doubted it based on the fact that I couldn't remember any faces from that day other than Landon's and Gianna's. If Frederick would have stood in front of me I doubt I would have given him a second glance.

  His eyes don't hold the same quiet calmness that my father's do. His expression is empty. It's different than what I remember from the photographs in Landon's apartment. The carefree happiness that was present in his face in those pictures isn't there now.

  "I don't remember seeing you," I say honestly. "You were on that flight because you knew your son was the pilot?"

  "It was the seventh flight this year that I've taken with my son at the controls."

  I'm surprised. I'm so surprised that my mouth falls open. "Seventh?"

  "I was on four last year, three the year prior."

  "He never noticed you?" I ask because I'm shocked based on what Landon told me about searching crowds for his father's face.

  "I stayed out of view for the most part." He scratches the wrinkled skin near the corner of his left eye. "I didn't want to risk the consequences of him seeing me."

  He wasn't ready to be caught yet.

  "What changed?" I bring the plastic cup to my mouth to finish the rest of the water. "Why did you step into full view now?"

  He bites the corner of his lip. I can't tell whether it's to quell his emotions or not. "I saw something horrific a few months ago. It was when I was watching my other son."

  "Dane? You were watching him?"

  "He's a fireman." His shoulders push forward as a smile flashes across his lips. "His Engine Company is number thirty-four."

  The words, along with the knowledge they contain, feels misplaced. This is a man who willingly hid from the lives of his children for close to fifteen years. The fact that he casually points out what his son does for a living, including details about which fire station he works out of, makes me uncomfortable.

  "He was called out to a building when some utility workers became trapped in the basement. I was there, standing in the crowd when I saw him running across the street."

  I lean back in the chair as I listen to him. I've seen Dane recently. He looked fine. Whatever Frederick saw was obviously life altering if it pushed him to reveal himself to Landon.

  "What happened?"

  "A young woman was hit by a police car."

  "What?" My hands leap to my chest. "That artist? Are you talking about when that artist got hit?"

  It had been the headline in every local paper the next morning. I hadn't taken the time to read through the article because the picture that accompanied
the story said it all. A petite blonde woman was sprawled across the hood of a police car, her hair covered with blood. I remember clearly that a fireman was on the hood of the car with her, his gloved hands holding her head in place.

  "That woman is having my first grandchild. That was Bridget. She's going to marry my son."

  ***

  "Will you ask Landon to come see me?"

  His demeanor may have changed since he first sat down across the table from me, but his past can't be erased with some confessions about how much he misses his children.

  He'd literally been stalking the two of them for years. He can't expect to find forgiveness because he wants to play a role in his grandchild's life. Dane doesn’t strike me as the type of man who will push everything that's happened aside just so his child can know a grandfather who didn't care enough about his own sons to choose them over a woman.

  "I'm planning on telling Landon about our meeting," I say quietly. "I don't think he'll want to come and see you."

  He nods in resignation. His chin bowing with the realization that there's little he can do now to erase his past.

  "I gave the police those documents because I thought it would help my own case."

  There's no shame in that. I would have done the same. I imagine most people would grasp onto any hope when they're faced with a prison term.

  "What's going to happen to you now?" I motion towards a table near us where three men are visiting their families. "Will you be serving your sentence here?"

  He looks up and across the table at me. "That was part of my plea deal. I want to be here, close to my family."

  I'm not surprised. I imagine he's going to continue to try and forge a relationship with both of his sons. I doubt either will ever step foot in this place.

  "I took a sentence of ten years." He glances quickly around the room. "I stole the identities of three men to survive financially. There was identity fraud too. I worked briefly for an investment company in Maine."

  It's more than I wanted to know.

  "I did it for my boys," he says the words as proudly as any father would, who worked hard his entire life to provide for his children. "I did it so I could watch them grow up."