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“They were in business with David for some years, but that business came to an abrupt end when they realized he was stealing from them. Just putting a little aside every month.”
“Why would he do that? He has enough money.”
“He’s greedy. He’s always been greedy. Always had his eye on what didn’t belong to him.”
“What does that mean?”
He exhales, looks away like maybe he’s said too much.
“Charlie. What does that mean?”
He turns back to me. Studies me. “You weren’t that young. You had to have seen it.”
“Seen what?”
Charlie’s expression changes, emotions he is so good at keeping hidden creeping to the surface. Sadness, then anger. I recognize both.
“How he looked at your mother.”
“My mother?”
He grits his teeth. I watch his struggle to maintain control. He never mentions missing her or missing the family. David does. He tells me often that he misses them. But I see it in Charlie sometimes. He hides it well, but now and again, I’ll catch him looking at a photo or a painting or something of mom’s especially, and it’s been happening more since I came back to the house.
Charlie and my mom had a special connection from the beginning. I remember my uncle’s sneer when Dante mentioned it. When he told me the story of their friendship.
Charlie and my mom were good friends from university days. And at the time in his life when he’d been coming out, she’d been a support to him. I’d never known whether my uncle’s dislike of Charlie had to do with his sexual preference or his close relationship with my mother.
“No,” I say. Because if I’d seen that, even if I can’t remember it, wouldn’t I have some sort of muscle memory, some instinct to warn me against David?
“The next man, Fred Barnaby, this one got a little uglier. He blackmailed your uncle. Or attempted to until you took care of him.”
I remember Barnaby. Remember the comment he’d made asking me if that cheat had sent me, his thug.
“I could go on,” he says. “But I think you’re intelligent enough to do this yourself. It’s time you opened your eyes, Cristiano. The stakes are higher now.” There’s a pause. “There’s Scarlett to consider. Her life is in danger.”
Am I so obvious to him? Who else sees right through me? Sees this vulnerability?
“She’s under your protection now. As is her brother. And I know you take those things seriously.”
I don’t deny it. Instead, I nod, my gaze on those pages although I’ve unfocused my eyes so the words are a blur.
“You didn’t see his face when he told me they’d taken her, Charlie.”
He doesn’t comment, just holds my gaze, as if to say you and I both know that’s bullshit. And he’s right. My uncle has a different face for every occasion. I just never thought of him using them with me.
“He didn’t know Scarlett’s location. It couldn’t have been him who tipped off Jacob.”
“Couldn’t he have known? Didn’t he come get you from that strip club?”
I did have two soldiers with me who came from that house. Which ones were they? I can’t remember. I was too wrapped up in my own head to note their names or faces.
“I have one more thing for you.” He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a single sheet.
“I don’t want anything else,” I say when he holds it out to me.
“The doctor who looked after you when you were in the coma, did you know he died a few days after you woke?”
I glance up at him, confused. I hadn’t even thought about that. I’d been introduced to another doctor. I’d assumed he was the one who’d looked after me.
“Drove off a bridge in the middle of the night,” he says. “A bridge about eighty miles from his house in a town he had no ties to. Absolutely no connections, no reason to be there.”
“What are you saying? If you’re accusing David, you and I both know he doesn’t do that sort of work.”
“No, he has others do it for him. Why don’t you talk to Lenore?”
“What does Lenore have to do with anything?”
“She came to me once. Years ago. She was worried about the drugs they were giving you to keep you in the coma.”
“They did that so I would heal. It’s detailed in the medical reports.”
“By a doctor your uncle employed who was subsequently killed in a strange sort of accident.”
No. Uncle David wouldn’t have done that to me.
“I wish I were wrong, Cristiano.” He finishes his whiskey.
I bow my head, letting my eyes focus on the papers before me.
“You read through those. Let’s talk tomorrow, make a plan.”
I nod once, sit back down and skim one of the reports. Charlie’s thorough. He’s always been thorough. It’s the reason he worked for my father and one of the reasons he works for me. The other reason is that I trust him. He may not be blood, but I’ve always trusted him.
