Until Joe

by Smith, CP

  Twelve

  Hell Froze Over

  A TABLE BURSTING with enough food to feed an army was laid out in the dining room. It was lunchtime before I rose, so the cook my parents had hired prepared a brunch. My parents somehow managed to find a cook in the middle of the Outer Banks. Money really could buy anything but love.

  I’d left with my parents only to travel five miles down the beach to another house situated on the water instead of heading home to Savannah. I was too tired and emotionally drained to care at that point, so I didn’t push. Without my phone, I had no way of knowing how Chris was, so I’d tossed and turned all night as visions of Joe standing over his dead son drove me crazy, leaving me even more exhausted and emotionally compromised.

  I was sure Devin had Joe’s number, but I needed his in order to call Joe, so I used my mother’s phone to call Calla and left a message when she didn’t pick up.

  After spooning a small amount of scrambled eggs and fruit on my plate, I sat down across from my mother. My father was out on the beach running. His bid to live forever had him exercising daily, no matter his location. I’d admired that dedication for years, but now everything about him turned my stomach. I knew he was ruthless in business, but I’d never imagined he was pure evil. His need to control everything had clearly pushed him to the point of no return. If he were willing to have someone shot as a warning to back off, he’d do anything. It was with that in mind I kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t confide in my mother. She would be in danger if she confronted him. I couldn’t tell anyone what I was up to; I wouldn’t have more blood on my hands.

  “Is Joe coming back?” my mother questioned in a light tone.

  “Yes,” I lied, though it wasn’t exactly a lie. I knew he’d come for my father eventually, but if I had my way, I’d find something to implicate him in the shooting. For all I knew, he had snuff tapes of all the people he’d had silenced over the years. I shivered at the thought. Was I the daughter of a killer? Had he done this before? Dear lord, did that make him some sort of mob boss if he had?

  “Your father seems to think so, too. I heard him on the phone last night. He said somethin’ like ‘Take the money shot’ so he could be done with Mr. Rouger once and for all.”

  I jerked on the words ‘money shot.’ Was that code for shoot to kill?

  “Who was he talkin’ to?” I blurted out a little too desperately.

  My mother looked up from her plate and regarded me with calm interest. “I assume it was one of his security people, butterbean. Does it matter?”

  I tried for an air of calm indifference and shrugged. “Just curious.”

  Mother placed her fork on her plate and leaned forward. “I liked what I saw, Bernice. Joe seemed solid, but your father seems awfully certain he’s lied to you. Is it possible he’s right?”

  I started to say Daddy was as wrong as he could be, but I stopped myself. If I wanted to find something against my father, I would need access to his office. That would require time at their home. More time than I usually spent there. If I were a scorned lover who needed the comfort of her parents for a day or two, they wouldn’t be suspicious when I didn’t leave after Daddy showed me what evidence he thought he had.

  “Where men are concerned, is there ever certainty?” I sighed for effect.

  “Quite right,” she agreed. “I’m rootin’ for you, darlin’ girl, but know if Joe isn’t what he seems to be, there’s someone out there for you. Once this is resolved, one way or the other, I can always make some calls. I think Jeanie Stockwell’s son is single now.”

  I smiled slightly but didn’t answer. There would never be anyone else. Joe had been a dream come true; one I would never let go of. Once this was done, I could live the rest of my life on the memories of the past few days.

  My father strolled into the dining room, covered in sweat. I lowered my eyes so he wouldn’t see the hate shining in my eyes. He leaned down and kissed my mother’s cheek, then strode out of the room. I turned in my seat and watched him. He didn’t seem in much of a hurry to get back to Savannah so he could present me with evidence of Joe’s deceit. If anything, he seemed to be settling in.

  “Daddy!” He stopped and looked back. “Are we headin’ home soon?”

  “I have business to conduct first. I’m waitin’ on a personal phone call. Then I have a conference call to take this afternoon.”

  “I thought you were in a hurry to show me this evidence?”

  He nodded. “There’s a piece of the puzzle I’m still lookin’ for. I’d rather lay it out all at once. It can wait until we get home.”

  He was up to something.

  “But you told me you already had this evidence.”

  He started to respond but paused a moment, thinking, muttering, “Soon,” carefully.

  What was he playing at?

  “Either you do, or you don’t.”

  He heaved a heavy sigh. “I have photos, but I’m still searchin’ for the woman.”

  None of this made sense. Joe had threatened him with bodily harm if anything happened to one of his sons, and he’d done it anyway. Joe had left, which I’d think would prove to my father it worked. He had to know our relationship was already over. So why is he still digging for something on Joe? The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. He knew I knew Chris had been shot because I told him Joe had left on an emergency. Why wasn’t he pressing me for details? Did he think me so naive that it wouldn’t have occurred to me it was he who’d gunned down Joe’s son?

  I needed answers, and I needed them now.

  “Daddy?”

  He stopped before rounding the corner to their bedroom and looked back. “Yes, blossom?”

  It felt like he’d struck me with the use of that endearment. He hadn’t spoken with affection since I was a child, and to use it now was nothing short of torture. I shook it off. Nothing could fix what was broken between us. Not when he had blood on his hands.

  “Why haven’t you asked me about Joe’s son bein’ shot?” I finally asked. I needed to see his reaction, to watch the guilt pass over his face or deceit glitter in his eyes.

  “Shot?” Mother questioned. “Do you mean with a gun?”

  I ignored her and observed my father. He shrugged as if it were of no consequence. His eyes didn’t flash with guilt. He didn’t hesitate like he’d been taken by surprise. He knew. He knew that I knew, and he wasn’t evasive like I would expect a killer to act. “It has nothin’ to do with his father. Why would I? FBI agents get shot in the line of duty all the time.”

  My heart skidded to a stop, then began to pound at a rapid pace. It rang in my ears with a thundering noise as I tried to assimilate what he’d said. Line of duty? Was he saying . . .?

  The room had begun to spin with the implication, so I grabbed hold of the table to steady myself as blood rushed from my head in shock. Hope blossomed anew as what he’d said sank in.

  “Repeat that, please,” I asked in a shaky voice to make sure I’d heard him correctly.

  “Bernice?” My mother’s concerned voice sounded far away.

  I waved her off and pressed my father again. “What do you mean, Chris was shot in the line of duty?”

  “Margaret, why does she look pale?” my father asked, his brows drawn into a sharp line.

  I slammed my hand on the table to get his attention. “Answer me,” I shouted. “Was Chris shot doin’ his job, or were you responsible?”

  I realized what I’d said and bit my lip.

  I probably shouldn’t have said that.

  My mother gasped, and my father jerked his head back as if I’d struck him before he scowled at me. “Have you lost your mind?” he growled.

  My hands shook so hard I had to fist them to keep them still. In for a penny, in for a pound. “You didn’t have him shot to warn off Joe?” My voice held so much hope, it sounded like a child’s.

  My father glared at me, indignation oozing from his pores. I knew then he was telling the truth. He skirted issues wh
en he was in the wrong. But accuse him of something he hadn’t done, and he shut you down quicker than a jackrabbit being chased by a hound.

  “I won’t dignify that with an answer.” He bit the words out with contempt. “You’ve gone off the deep end this time.”

  I should have been relieved, I really should have, but he didn’t get to play the victim in this situation. Not after what he’d done to Eunice, Calla, and me all these years. The blatant disregard for our feelings. Disowning us so we didn’t inherit Armstrong Shipping. Treating us like members of his staff instead of his daughters, then presenting me to Joe as a whore after offering him millions to skip town. I was done with all of it.

  “You don’t get to play the victim here,” I spit out. “You’ve treated Eunice, Calla, and me as if we meant nothin’ to you our whole lives and laid a hand to your granddaughter like common trash. I’m forewarnin’ you now, Daddy dearest, if you ever lay a hand on my sweet girl again, I will take a baseball bat to your head.”

  He blinked and looked away, color infusing his cheeks with shame. Well, well, Momma was right. He was ashamed he’d struck Calla. Was there still hope for him?

  “What did you expect me to think, after all you’ve done my whole life, when you threatened his sons?”

  “I would never—”

  I cut him off with a raised hand and turned to my mother. He was still too defensive. He needed to be brought down a peg or two. “Did you know he offered Joe five million dollars and me for the weekend if he’d leave town? My own father whored me out!”

  My mother turned angry eyes at my father. “Preston!”

  I looked back at him and shook my head. “You couldn’t have hurt me more if you’d run me through with a blade, Daddy.”

  He looked at my mother then back at me. He opened his mouth to defend himself, which he bloody well couldn’t, and mumbled, “Shit,” instead.

  “Exactly,” I returned. “If you act like a monster, you should expect people to believe you are one.”

  He held my eyes for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll concede that,” he finally answered after a long silence. “I admit I went too far, Bernice. I knew it by your reaction and regretted it instantly, if that makes a difference to you. For that, I’ll apologize. But attempted murder? Why would you think that?”

  I was pretty sure Hell just froze over.

  My father had never apologized to me in his life.

  “You threatened his sons the night before,” I explained. “When Joe told me about Chris, I thought . . . Joe thought it as well.”

  He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Yes, I pointed out they were vulnerable, just as you’re vulnerable to a man like Mr. Rouger. A man of my stature has influence in many areas. I wanted him to know I won’t hesitate to use that influence to keep our family safe. To keep you safe. Though, why I bother, I’ll never know. You and your sister have turned your backs on your mother and me time and again.”

  “We turned our backs on you?” I laughed, shocked. He was unbelievable.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “How do you figure that?” I was dumbfounded. “You’re the one who disowned us.”

  “Are we goin’ to rehash this again?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Preston,” my mother warned. “it’s time to end this. Neither of us is young. Is this really how you want to leave this world? With your daughters hatin’ you?”

  “I don’t hate him,” I defended. “I hate his actions. There’s a difference.”

  Her mouth quirked. “He’s only a man, Bernice. Cut him some slack.”

  My father actually barked out a laugh.

  “Tell her, Preston,” Mother urged. “Get it over with.”

  He glared at her and she glared back. After a long standoff, his head rolled back on his shoulders and he looked at the ceiling. “I didn’t disown you. I only told you I did. I was hopin’ after you’d sowed your wild oats, you’d come back to the fold.”

  I’d stood during our confrontation, but that news took my legs out from under me. “Why?” I whispered, my voice breathy and incredulous. “Why would you do that to us?” All these years I’d believed him. Hated him for kicking Eunice and me out of the family, and he’d lied. If I’d had a heart condition, this revelation would have put me in the hospital.

  He turned and looked out the window. The golden luster of the afternoon shone on the plants in the dining room. The blue sky was dotted with billowing clouds like cotton balls, and he seemed to be studying them. I waited for his explanation. My father’s face was grim before he answered. “It was to protect the family interests, of course. If you believed you were disowned, I figured any man sniffin’ around you durin’ your wild phase would leave you be. I kept waitin’ for one of you to grow up and take up the mantle of the family,”—he looked back at me—“but you never did.”

  I got to my feet again, furious. It was only a small fraction of what I felt, but smugness overruled them all. He was so blind sometimes it was a wonder he’d made the billions he had. “We did take up the mantle, Daddy, but you’re too blind to see it. We loved and sheltered Calla Lily like she was our own. She’s this family’s future, or have you forgotten?”

  He studied me for a moment, his face a neutral mask, then his eyes turned knowing, and he nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  I was right. About many things. One of them being Joe.

  “Is it possible you’ve been wrong about other things?”

  He eyed me warily. “Such as?”

  “Joe.”

  He shook his head. “I have it on good authority. I’m not wrong.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re so stubborn.”

  “I’m right about this, Bernice. You’ll see. Then I’ll make sure that man never darkens our doorstep again.”

  We would see because Joe was returning as soon as . . . Chris!

  How had I forgotten?

  “How is his son? Did he make it?”

  “I didn’t concern myself with it.”

  “Could you find out?”

  He looked at my mother. “She’s obsessed. Didn’t I tell you?”

  “Daddy, please,” I pleaded. “Can you find out? I don’t have my phone, so he hasn’t been able to get a hold of me.”

  It must have been the ‘please’ because he sighed and walked to the table and picked up his phone. I waited with bated breath while he made the call.

  “Did the FBI agent make it?” he barked out.

  I watched his face closely for the answer while I prayed silently for good news. He looked at me and nodded, and my heart leapt with joy. Chris was going to be okay, and Joe would be coming back. I sank into my chair with relief and smiled at my mother, reaching out to take her hand. “Everything’s okay, now,” I told her. “Joe will be back as soon as he can, and Daddy isn’t a killer.”

  He was still an arrogant bastard who needed to be brought down a peg, or twenty, but I could live with that.

  “I could have told you that if you’d asked, butterbean. Your father is a good many things, but a killer isn’t one of them.”

  Now that the dust had settled, I felt a little ashamed I’d believed it so quickly. “He’s got a lot of faults, Momma. It wasn’t too much of a stretch for me, not after I heard he struck Calla a few months back. No man should ever raise a hand to a woman.”

  She nodded her agreement. “If it makes you feel any better, when I came home that night after licking my wounds, I found him shut in his office with a bottle of scotch after he returned from the police station. When I asked him what he’d done, he raised weary eyes to me and waved me on. He couldn’t even bring himself to admit he’d struck her until the next mornin’. His guilt is one of the reasons he hasn’t gone after Devin.”

  I scoffed at her comment. We both knew why he hadn’t gone after Devin. If my father felt like he owed someone, he paid his debts.

  She smiled. “Well, savin’ her life a few times plays a part too,” she chuckled. “But
your father prides himself on bein’ in control, and he lost it that day. He’s reached out to her, you know, and apologized for strikin’ her. Told her if he had any clue who Bobby Jones truly was, he wouldn’t have pushed so hard. He’s been so rattled over his arrest, he’s yet to fill his old position as CFO.”

  Hell really had frozen over.

  “Maybe there’s hope for him yet?”

  She shrugged. “He finally admitted to you he didn’t disown you, so that’s somethin’.”

  Yes, he did. Wait until I told Eunice. She would ream Daddy a new one.

  “Mother?”

  “Mm?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  She picked at the tablecloth and looked guilty. “I agreed with the lie in the beginnin’. You were both so defiant, it seemed wise to protect you from yourselves. Then we lost your brother, and I began drinkin’ to forget. I just left everything to your father after that. I’m sorry, sugar. I should have said somethin’.”

  As excuses go, it wasn’t bad. We had been hard to handle in our teens, and when our brother died, everything changed. Mother was right when she said none of us were young. She and my father didn’t have many years left. She was finally awake after years of indifference, and that was all that mattered. It was better for everyone to move on than hold on to a grudge.

  “Did he tell you about the money he offered Joe to walk away?”

  We both looked over my shoulder and watched my father pace while he spoke on the phone. “No, he didn’t. But it doesn’t surprise me. That man’s always believed that if you throw enough money at somethin’, he’ll get his way.”

  “Joe didn’t even blink,” I told her, looking back. “He was insulted, Momma. It doesn’t matter what Daddy throws at him; he won’t walk away.”

  She leaned in with a smile and whispered, “Good. You deserve that in your life.”

  “You have eyes on them both?” my father said eagerly, and I turned to look at him. “Good. Good. And the other one? Excellent work. Once you have the shots we need, send them to my phone and keep the other on standby. I want that man out of my daughter’s life once and for all.”