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“I know. I’m sorry about that.”
“Maybe you and Brad will give us a houseful of grandkids.”
I stroked my belly. Had she forgotten I was only eighteen? “One, at least. We’re both so young.”
“Oh, take all the time you want and need. We’ll have one to dote on in the meantime.”
She was sweet, and she would have been a wonderful mother to a gaggle of kids. My heart hurt for her. She was going to be a wonderful grandma.
And I had to hand it to her. She’d effectively steered the conversation away from Wendy.
But I wasn’t done yet. I opened my mouth to say as much, when the phone rang.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brad
“Dad!” I stood, my heart a mass of movement in my chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Sit down, Brad.”
I dropped back into my chair. What else could I do? I wasn’t going to try to take the gun away from him. We both knew how to handle weapons, but accidents could happen. I was going to be a father. I couldn’t take the chance.
Dr. Pelletier’s face went white, and he gripped the edge of his desk. “Mr. Steel, please. Put that down before someone gets hurt. You and I both know—”
“Save it,” my father said. “I know how to use this and can have a bullet inside your brain before you take your next breath. Tell him, son.”
“Leave me out of this.”
“Tell him!”
“He’s right. My dad’s a crack shot.” How well I knew. He’d taught me everything I knew, and I was as good as he was now. I’d proved it at the range.
Again, I reiterated my promise to myself never to teach another person how to shoot a gun. No way. I would not be party to any of this.
“No one’s here at your office this evening. I don’t even need a silencer.”
“Mr. Steel…”
“You’re going to make arrangements to keep Wendy Madigan so doped up that her brain can barely function. You got it? I don’t want to hear that she finagled her way out of that place. She’s a danger to my family, and I won’t allow it.”
“Mr. Steel—”
“If you don’t do it, I will put a bullet in your head. Not tonight, of course. But soon. I’ll put a bullet in yours and Wendy’s both.”
“You won’t get away with it.”
“Doctor, I assure you I’ve gotten away with worse.”
My heart dropped to my stomach.
He’d gotten away with worse?
“I tried to do this the nice way,” my father said, “with money. Now that offer’s off the table. You give her the medication, or you don’t live to see your next birthday. Your choice.”
“Fine,” Dr. Pelletier relented. “Only because I have a family and they need me.”
“Understood,” Dad said. “I have a family as well, and I’m going to make sure they’re protected from Wendy Madigan. That’s where you come in. You know she’s a dangerous person. I get that you think she can’t escape from the facility. You’ll have to trust my son and me on this. Wendy is capable of just about anything.”
“No one’s that smart.”
“She’s not just smart,” I said, finally adding to the conversation. “She’s shrewd and she’s cunning. I’ve had my lock changed half a dozen times, and she’s gotten into my home.”
Dr. Pelletier widened his eyes, shuddering. “Could you put the gun down now, Mr. Steel?”
“Fine.” Dad lowered his gun but didn’t replace it in the holster. “Don’t think we don’t appreciate this. You’ll be well compensated, once I see that you’ve upheld your part of the bargain, and no one will be hurt.”
“Except for the patient.”
“The needs of my family outweigh the needs of one mentally ill person,” Dad said. “She’s a bad seed. You’re doing a good thing, Doctor. Believe it or not, I don’t like pulling out my gun.”
Dr. Pelletier nodded weakly, saying nothing.
“Ready to go, Brad?” Dad said.
God, yes. I was more than ready. I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around what had taken place here.
“Good night, Doctor,” I said. “And thank you.”
Again Dr. Pelletier nodded.
“We’ll be in touch.” Dad walked toward the door. “Come on, Brad.”
I sat in a dive bar with my father. “I come here to think,” he said.
I never imagined my dad in a place like this. It was pretty quiet, though, situated in a seedy part of the city. A few regulars sat at the wooden bar. Dad ordered two whiskeys.
“Rotgut at its finest.” Dad took a drink. “Burns. In a good way.”
I took a sip. He wasn’t kidding. For a minute I thought I’d taken a drink of battery acid.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, son.”
I was still numb. “That’s not the first time you’ve done that.” A statement, not a question. I already knew the answer. My father had been way too comfortable to have never before been in a similar situation.
