"According to you, Goddard is responsible for everything." Felix tilted his head. "So tell me why I should believe you, instead of him?"
Benjamin threw a glance toward his sister. What had she been thinking, to bring this fellow along? Turning back to Felix, Benjamin breathed in slowly, trying to loosen his throat. "See that question, that's exactly why I've been on the run," he tried to explain. "Why should anyone believe me? I don't have the kind of track record Goddard does. I don't have the credentials, or friends in the military."
"Oh, Benjamin." Aletheia's sigh sounded as if she understood.
Felix tossed her a glance and leaned back a little. But the suspicion in his gaze only deepened. "Okay," Felix said. "Let's say I believe you that Goddard is playing dirty. Who's to say you aren't in on the deal with him? Who's to say this isn't some falling out among thieves?"
"Who's to say—? It just isn't!" This man was Benjamin's worst nightmare. He was the reason Benjamin hadn't been able to tell anyone what he knew. The evidence all swung against him.
"Benjamin isn't a thief or a terrorist," Aletheia put in, sounding hot. Finally, she seemed to be rethinking the decision to bring along her rabid companion.
Felix raised his eyebrows. "We have no way of knowing that for sure."
"I do," Aletheia retorted. "I have twenty-five years telling me so."
Felix gave Aletheia a hard look. "I don't."
"We need a plan," Benjamin declared desperately, addressing Aletheia. "Getting Zara out is most important, of course. But we need to find someone to alert, someone who can stop Goddard—and whoever else might be involved. This Cloak has got to be neutralized."
"Yeah, that's part of what's funny here," Felix butted in, as if anybody had asked him. "How could Goddard possibly get away with something so bold as selling the Cloak to terrorists when he's got the military breathing down his neck?"
"How should I know?" Benjamin stammered. "Maybe the military's in on it, too."
Felix's eyebrows jumped.
"Okay, that's a little far-fetched," Aletheia put in. "But I'm sure Benjamin is telling the truth about the rest. Can't you consider that, just for the sake of argument, even?"
Felix's lips thinned. "I can't afford to consider any part of this wild story." He turned to look at her. "I have to know you're safe."
Benjamin got it then, in the look Felix gave her. He suddenly understood where the guy was coming from: the exact same place he was at when it came to Zara. Felix was in love with Aletheia.
When Felix turned back to Benjamin, his gaze was double hard. From somewhere he whipped out a pair of handcuffs. Before Benjamin knew what was happening, the metal rings were around his wrists.
"What?" Aletheia yelped. "What are you doing?"
Felix locked eyes with Benjamin. "I'm doing what I always meant to do, bring your brother in to the police." He glanced briefly toward Aletheia. "I warned you. More than once."
Aletheia looked like someone who'd just been slapped in the face. Meanwhile, Benjamin's panic spiraled into the stratosphere. Who would rescue Zara if he was stuck behind bars? He jerked his hands against the cuffs, but found them unyielding.
"You're welcome to come with us," Felix off-handedly told Aletheia. "In fact, I'll bet the authorities will have a few questions for you, too."
Aletheia's shock appeared to be wearing off. Her lashes lowered part way as she gave Felix a baleful look.
Benjamin would not have wanted to be on the other end of her penetrating glare. At the same time he wondered if he could use that look as a distraction while he lifted his hands to bash Felix on the head. Unfortunately, Benjamin doubted he had enough power to knock the guy out, would probably only annoy him—
Felix started the car. "On the other hand, you might want to go find your brother a lawyer. He's going to need one." With a cold smile, Aletheia's companion looked over at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to hop out of the car.
"Maybe you should," Benjamin urgently agreed. At the very least, she should stay out of the police station. She might be detained for questioning like Felix said, and someone had to be free to rescue Zara—
But Aletheia only relaxed back into her seat. "Nice try, Felix." She sounded utterly calm, though with a definite thread of disgust. "But you can knock if off now."
What? What was she talking about?
Meanwhile, Felix's eyes narrowed on her, constricting to gleaming slits.
Benjamin stared, completely confused, but aware that the tension in the car had just managed to thicken, a veritable fog of emotions.
Ignoring Felix's basilisk stare, Aletheia turned to Benjamin. "We need someplace safe to talk, make a plan. Do you know anywhere, Benjamin?"
Dazed, Benjamin swung his gaze toward Mr. Tough Guy.
Felix's granite face looked more stony than ever, downright marbleized, in fact. Out of that face of rock, he uttered one short, expressive expletive.
"The key," Aletheia remarked lightly. "I don't think Benjamin is very comfortable that way."
Benjamin sucked in a breath. Really? She thought Felix was going to unlock the handcuffs? Why?
Unmoving for an interminable thirty seconds, Felix continued to give Aletheia the flesh-piercing stare. Then with another descriptive expletive, he reached into his inside jacket pocket. In thorough disgust, he tossed a flash of metal into Benjamin's lap.
Benjamin looked down. It was a key.
Holy—
Mr. Tough Guy had been bluffing.
Folding her arms over her chest, Aletheia looked thoroughly unsurprised. "A place, Benjamin? I imagine time is of the essence."
"I— I—" Benjamin's mind was momentarily blank. Fumbling, he tried to pick up the key with his handcuffed hands.
"I know somewhere," Felix rumbled. Frustration ripped through his tone. "I saw a quiet motel on the way over here." He reached over and plucked the key to the handcuffs out of Benjamin's struggling fingers. With a quick, muscular twist, he unlocked the manacles. His jaw looked molded from bronze. "Let's go."
~~~
The dough for the piecrust stuck to the rolling pin in gluey clumps. Swearing, Parker tried to peel the stuff off, wondering how he'd achieved this disaster. He hadn't messed up a pie crust in years.
But today everything he'd done had turned to shit. This afternoon he'd cracked a sculpture bust he'd been working on for a month. An hour ago he'd dropped two eggs while making an omelet. Now this.
Parker would be the last to blame his recent clumsiness on Meredith. To blame her would be giving her too much importance. Her words hadn't affected him. Not one bit. He knew who he was. Ambition wasn't a part of his makeup. He had no desire to become some art world big shot.
The door to the kitchen burst open. Aunt Rosa appeared, wearing a Marilyn Monroe halter-top and neatly pressed Bermuda shorts. Her face was glowing. "It's happened," she announced in a throbbing voice. "It's finally happened!"
Parker, his fingers full of sticky dough, eyed her joy with suspicion. "What's happened?"
"My show. They're putting an announcement out by the road. Thirty days in advance, and they're already publicizing." She clasped her hands in joy, but then lowered them with a scowl. "The only problem is that odious theater critic is sitting in his car, watching. Why, it's as if he's ready to pan the thing before it's even opened!"
"Theater critic." Parker grabbed a towel to work at the dough on his fingers. This was Rosa-speak for Jim Blodger, their neighbor down the hill, the grumpy guy who ejected Aunt Rosa from his backyard on a regular basis. "He's parked outside our front gate?"
"Uh huh." Rosa's gaze turned adoring. "Are you going to toss him out of the theater?"
"I think I'd better see what he's up to," Parker temporized. He slid to a halt on his way out the back door. "You didn't use his swimming pool today, did you?"
With a sober face, Rosa made a cross over her chest.
The gesture gave Parker little confidence regarding her honesty. Shaking his head, he jogged down th
e back porch steps and along the drive toward the road. Blodger was never good news.
It wasn't Blodger, though, out by the crumbling front gate, but Sam, the guy from the bank. He was hammering a sign into the ground just by the road.
"Hey, Sam," Parker called. "Whatcha doing?" The banker was a local man who'd always been friendly to Aletheia and the rest of them.
But now Sam straightened abruptly, his gaze flashing guiltily from the sign to Parker. "Uh...it's the law. I've got to post it."
"Post what?" Parker came closer to read the sign Sam was hammering onto their property. Notice of Trustee Sale popped out at him, followed by an announcement that the property was being put up for auction at the San Bernardino Courthouse on September 13.
September 13? Parker felt like he'd been hit in the gut with a baseball bat. Good God, that was only a month away.
Parker's hands froze into a death grip on the dish towel he still clutched. Somehow, he hadn't thought it would come to this. He'd imagined Aletheia would take care of the defaulted mortgage. That was her thing, the money stuff. Life would proceed as before. No worries, no problems.
The click of a car door distracted Parker from the distressing sign. Jim Blodger hefted himself out of a powder blue Cadillac parked across the road. His smile was broad as he gestured toward Sam, whose discomfort visibly expanded.
"A day for champagne, ain't it?" Blodger chortled. "Only thirty days 'til I see the last of you and your shabby family. 'Til I don't have to put up with wacky old broads with their half-naked wrinkles by my swimming pool. No more retards wandering in front of my car when I drive downtown. And no more crazy old men who are too busy scribbling numbers to pick up either the wacky broad or the clumsy retard." Blodger stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked onto the balls of his feet. He smiled at Parker like a fox who'd cleared out the henhouse.
Parker curled one dough-encrusted hand into a fist. He didn't think it would be a good idea to plant his fist into Blodger's face, however. It might make Parker feel good, but it wouldn't change the facts. There was no money to get the house out of foreclosure. When last spoken to, Aletheia had admitted she'd no idea where to find Benjamin, which meant no way to earn fifty thousand dollars from Felix Roman.
Parker hadn't really worried about any of it—until that moment.
Blodger bent toward Parker. "Why, once you don't have this place to live in, you might have to get yourself a real job, son...'stead of pretending to be some kinda art-teeste."
Parker was used to Blodger's mockery. He wasn't used to such mockery hurting. Today it hurt, as if he'd ever given in to the dreams Meredith had outlined for him the day before, dreams of supporting himself financially through his artistic efforts. Such dreams were as fantastic as Aunt Rosa's delusions. Nobody made money by sculpting.
Rolling down his sleeves, Sam from the bank strode down the small slope on which he'd set the sign. "We could still work this out, Parker. If you all could simply come up with the fifty thousand that's in arrears, we could take the sale off-calendar."
Keenly conscious of Jim Blodger's sneer, Parker claimed, "Aletheia is working on that."
Blodger's snort wasn't so much disbelieving as scornful.
Parker could feel his face warm. Why was he claiming Aletheia would ride to the rescue, as if Parker were completely impotent? Wasn't this his home, too?
"She'll be contacting you soon," Parker lied to Sam, his face growing even warmer. At the same time, into his mind's eye, completely unbidden—utterly ridiculous—came an image of the rows of block sculptures he'd done, the forest of them down by the old carriage house; unlike the cliff face Meredith had scorned, these were portable. Possibly...salable.
No, no. Not salable. Parker's clenched fist opened and he wiped his palm on his pants. How ridiculous could he get? They were amateurish, the work of an untutored hack. It went without saying he'd never shown them to anyone educated in the art world.
Artistic detachment, my foot. He hadn't wanted his life's work to get judged. He hadn't wanted the voice of criticism to ruin his joy and passion. Only if he could have been sure of approval, an approval he secretly craved, would he have bared his oeuvre to the world.
Selling something he had created, finding a single soul on earth who would want to keep it that badly, was a dream he'd never allowed himself. But he'd owned the dream anyway.
Meredith had seen this, Parker now realized, as he faced Blodger with his twisted-mouth sneer. Meredith had seen inside him the same way he'd been able to see inside her.
Blodger swaggered, grinning smugly. "You tell Aletheia not to work too hard tryin' in vain to scrape that money together. I already got what's necessary to buy this place, once it's on the auction block." He paused to leer at the sign Sam had posted. "On September 13." Laughing, he strolled across the street and got into his car. With a roar of the motor, he drove off.
Parker was left with the posted sign, Sam from the bank, and an embarrassing silence.
Looking hangdog, Sam spoke. "Look, I've known Aletheia a long time. I know what she's been doing around here for her family, and your part in it, too. If you come up with anything, even a crazy idea, give me a call. We'll see what we can work out." As he finished this speech, Sam produced a business card. He held it out.
Somewhere stood a Parker who'd run out here from the kitchen. That Parker wanted to laugh and brush off the idea he knew how to deal with banks and mortgages. Aletheia, he wanted to say, would take care of it.
A different Parker, one who scared him a little, took the card Sam offered. His gaze flitted over the chunky eagle logo of the bank. Oh boy. As if he could think up a way to save the house. As if there was any way he could regain Meredith's respect for him.
Or his own.
"Call me," Sam said, before trudging off to his car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Three styrofoam cups of coffee sat on a plastic table near the window of the economy motel room Felix had paid for, using cash and an assumed name. Felix leaned back in a plastic chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and tried to focus on Benjamin as he outlined a plan for rescuing his girlfriend.
Benjamin's hands swept through the air and his voice grew impassioned as he described some pirate-like endeavor, an escapade using himself as a distraction in order to open the dungeon doors so they could rush in and extract the damsel in distress.
The plan was completely unworkable, but Felix didn't want to take a stand and say so, not when he was still distracted and jittery from what had happened in Waban.
He'd told Aletheia he was going to turn her brother in to the police. Dammit, he'd put handcuffs on the guy.
But she hadn't believed it.
This was—too much. The ploy was supposed to have worked. She was supposed to have marched away, furious. She was supposed to have left Felix. He'd imagined she would run off to find a lawyer for her brother and spend the rest of the afternoon in the offices of one attorney or another. Safe.
As soon as Felix had clapped eyes on Benjamin, he'd known Aletheia had been right all along. Her brother was no arch villain. He was a kid! But that wasn't the end of it. Benjamin had a story that was totally believable, given Felix's own stewing, if unformed, suspicions. It was a story that had chilled Felix through. The whole situation was far worse than he'd ever imagined. He'd been terrified to have Aletheia anywhere near it.
So he'd tried to drive her off. He'd tried to convince her he was about to do the very thing he'd actually been fully prepared to do.
For about three seconds he'd managed to convince her, but that was it. Three seconds. Then she'd called his bluff. She'd refused to believe he could be cold-hearted enough to betray her.
She'd been disappointed in him, true, but not distrustful of his character. No. Instead, Aletheia had believed in him, beyond good evidence saying she shouldn't.
And now, thirty minutes later, Felix's heart was beating much too fast for a guy who was just sitting in a chair. This was...weird. And te
rrifying. What if she did it again?Worse, what if he started to count on that?
"No, Benjamin." At the table, Aletheia shook her head. "It's too dangerous."
"But—"
"No." Aletheia's brows drew down. "We'd be rushing in blind, and I bet they have weapons. Goddard would end up with both you and Zara."
Benjamin's eyes narrowed. "Okay, then what do you suggest? We have to do something."
Aletheia's jaw set. "I suggest we go to the police. That is, I'll go. I'll report Zara missing. No—I'll say I saw her get kidnapped." Her gaze switched to Felix. "What do you think?"
Under her gaze, Felix's heart sped even faster. What did he think? That's right, he had to think here. Aletheia suggested going to the police. What was his opinion of her plan? "Well..." He fought back all his unruly emotions. "It's a good idea, but it probably won't work. The police will have too many questions. They'll want to know your connection to Zara, how you know her, where you last saw her. They'll pull your story apart."
Grimacing, Aletheia bit her lip and nodded. Trusting his judgment.
Felix's teeth ground. Trust. That couldn't last. Shouldn't last, because she didn't have some superior insight into his true character. She didn't know him better than he knew himself. And he knew he was a bad bargain. Ruthless, ungiving, and with a cold stone heart.
Assuring himself of this fact, he managed to drive down his terrifying hope and force his brain to step in.
Uncrossing his arms, he leaned forward. "The key is to get some evidence of foul play. Once we have that, we'll be able to get help from the police."
Benjamin blinked and Aletheia gazed at him consideringly.
Felix didn't get distracted this time. It was all coming together. Yes, he knew exactly what had to be done. "I'll go see Goddard," he told them. "I'll claim I'm bargaining with him for Benjamin. But I'll have my cell phone on. You two will stay here and tape the whole thing."
I Gotta Feeling Page 21