The Last Family

40

Two figures moved up the sidewalk, holding to the shadows. One moved ahead of the other and out into the sidewalk beside the curb. The other slipped over the wall and moved silently into the overgrown yard.

Alton Vance, dressed in slacks and a T-shirt with a London Fog jacket to cover the nine-millimeter machine pistol, was standing on the north side of Laura’s porch, watching the bushes for a cat he had seen a few seconds earlier. He looked at his watch. It was early, but darker than normal due to the overcast sky. He heard footsteps on the street outside the wall and turned to watch for the approaching pedestrian. He wondered whether he should radio the house, but those people had been through hell.

They had arrived in the Volvo, Erin looking deflated, Sean shaking his head in some sort of signal to let Alton know something amazing had occurred, and Woody, Mr. Stoneface, staring straight ahead. He couldn’t wait to find out what had happened. He wondered if he should call the guy in to Woody, but the fellow was just a drunk. Thorne was a little ways down the street, walking the dog, and there were cops out on the perimeter at every intersection for two blocks. Sometimes drunks cut down Laura’s street after the cops had checked them out. They couldn’t very well close off the street.

Alton was thirty-one and African-American. He had been assigned to New Orleans straight out of training after law school. His wife had wanted him to practice entertainment law, but he’d been drawn to a life where there was a touch of steel and a badge and satisfaction that this would be a better world as long as he did his job well. He was tired, but this assignment was coming to a head hundreds of miles away. He was sure that Monday morning would find him back at home for a week’s vacation. He needed it.

He saw the top of a head for a split second and heard someone fall and mumble. Fuckin’ drunk. He checked the Uzi, which was shoulder strapped and hung under his right side, as he moved to the gate. As soon as he got to the bars, he saw the feet flailing as the man tried to get up. “Goddamned bitch,” the man growled. “Tryin’ to tell me somethin’. Fuckin’ whore… I got money! Who she think she is?”

Alton relaxed his grip on the machine pistol, stepped through the gate, and stood above the man, whose face was to the ground. Alton reached over to lift the man, and as he did, a second man slid in behind him and pressed something against his back. “Don’t move or you’re dead.”

The drunk flowed upright, looked up and down the street, then smiled at the agent. He tucked his head and said, “Inside, move it.”

Agent Alton Vance moved through the gate with the ex-drunk before him and the unseen man behind. The ex-drunk stripped Alton of the Uzi and the SIG Sauer nine-millimeter. Alton felt something cold slide around his neck… “What was that?” he said as he put a hand to his throat. In answer the man behind him said, “That, Mr. DEA, was Martin Fletcher cutting your worthless throat. Welcome to the end of the world.”

Alton Vance had never imagined himself capable of such blind fear.

Laura was furious with her daughter. Erin had hit the door raging against Woody and Sean and all the babysitters who were ruining her life. Laura had almost slapped her but managed to hold back. Then Erin had collapsed in tears. Laura had been paralyzed with fear the entire time she had waited for them to return, thinking that Erin had been grabbed by Martin Fletcher. Erin had made a passing reference to the fact that Woody had broken a man’s arm in a bar while disarming him.

Now Erin had showered, dressed in clean clothes, and was lying on the couch in the sun room off the kitchen, resting her head on Laura’s lap the way she had when she’d been younger. She had even apologized for her selfish behavior. Laura hoped that she had learned the kind of lesson that no one could have taught her. Kids all thought they were born bulletproof, tragedy resistant. Sean was seated across the room with an ice pack held to his neck. Reb and Woody sat at the counter, and Reid was leaning against the stove with a glass of wine in hand. Laura was a little miffed at him because he hadn’t reacted with appropriate horror to the news that Erin had run away. “kids, go figure,” he had said to Laura’s complete amazement. “She’ll come home when she gets hungry.”

Laura hadn’t spoken to him until Erin had returned.

Reb and Woody were arm wrestling on the counter after the dishes had been cleared. To everyone’s feigned amusement, and Reb’s genuine amazement, he was beating the agent. “See, using the breath-expansion technique works-when you take a breath and hold it and put the air power into your muscles,” the agent said. Woody groaned as the boy pressed the backside of his hand against the cool marble countertop. He whispered to Reb so the women wouldn’t hear. “A quick uppercut to the nuts is the only thing that works better.”

“Is that what you did to the man that scared Erin?”

“If the breathing technique works so good, Woody,” Reid said, “how come you don’t use it yourself and beat him? Take a few minutes off, for Christ’s sake.”

Woody didn’t look up. “What’s eating you, Mr. Dietrich?”

“You. All of you guys. How many times a day do you have to be a hero?”

“We do what we’re paid to do.”

“The DEA? Does the DEA hire people with your demonstrated talents as agents?”

“There,” Reb said. “It does work! I can feel the power.” He growled.

“It’s about the transfer of the power from mental to physical,” Woody said. “Three out of four. So you know you didn’t just get lucky.”

“That’s enough,” Laura said. “Erin, run the dishwater.”

Erin moved to the sink.

“So, Reid?” Woody said. “Want to try your luck?” He slapped his arm on the counter.

“I don’t see what that proves,” Reid said. “How about a game of chess?”

“That’s just a game,” Reb said. “This is real.”

“I’m not much for arm wrestling,” Reid said, dismissing the idea. “Wouldn’t want you to snap my arm showing off for the girls.”

“Whatever,” Woody said. He smiled at Reid.

“What would it prove?”

Woody shrugged. “Probably nothing.”

“You ever killed any people, Woody?” Reb asked.

The room went silent.

Woody turned to him and grew thoughtful. Then he looked at his hands and silently counted each finger twice. “Not so’s I noticed.”

“Really?” Reb asked.

“Nope,” Woody said. “If I’m lying, I’m a professional janitor.”

“But you beat the cold shit outta-”

“Reb Masterson!” Laura snapped.

“-the guys that almost hurt Erin.”

“I imagine maiming is easier if you don’t have too much intellectual interference,” Reid said, smiling. “Anybody can maim, kill. Violence is the defeat of reason. Your brain is the ultimate weapon, Reb. I’m sure Woody will agree with that. Brains over brawn. Progress.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen that creep who…” she said, stopping when she saw Reb’s face turned toward her.

“I wouldn’t have been in a dive,” Reid said smugly.

“Drop it!” Laura said.

“I see your point,” Woody said. “Chamberlain reasoned with Hitler, Roosevelt with Tojo,” Woody said.

“Too bad you weren’t there to talk sense to Ed and his pals,” Erin said bitterly.

Reid looked at the ceiling. “Rabin, Arafat. Begin, Sadat. Mandela, de Klerk. Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King. They won important peace treaties without resorting to guns. And I’m not talking about thumping a drunk redneck who would press his amorous intentions on a pretty girl. Erin, I’m thankful Woody’s reflexes are as good as they are. But there are very few instances where professional warriors are needed in day-to-day life.”

“That’s naive, Reid. There are people who don’t respond to reason. That’s where violence comes into play. As defense and deterrence.”

“And vengeance,” Reid added. “That’s a great one. This guy Fletcher is just a bully with a sharp mind and an unpleasant agenda. He needs to be locked up in a mental ward.”

“I have never gone looking for trouble,” Woody said.

“Well, that’s your slant on the world? You can find exceptions to support any argument,” Reid said.

“So can you, I imagine,” Woody said. He smiled again, mockingly. “If Mr. Fletcher comes through the door, we’ll let you reason with him.”

The two men stared at each other like two dogs standing across a filled bowl. Reid was smiling but his eyes weren’t.

Laura stood and walked over to the sink. “Boys? Let’s try to see if we can avoid the stereotypical cabin-fever flare-ups?”

She put her hands into the dishwater and jerked them out, screaming, “Dammit!”

“What?” Erin said.

“It’s cold!” Laura said. “Ice-cold. Are you sure you ran the hot water?”

“Yes,” Erin said. “I know one from the other. I bet we’re the only family in America that doesn’t use the dishwasher for ecology reasons.”

“The hot-water heater must be out again,” Laura said. “The pilot goes off,” she explained to Sean and Woody. “We just have to light it again. It’s in the closet right down the hall. I’ll do it,” she said. “I was supposed to remember to order a new one.”

“I’ll light it for you,” Woody said, standing. “Matches, lighter?”

Reid looked at Woody and smirked. “That’s okay, Woody. It doesn’t take a karate expert to light a water heater.”

Laura exhaled loudly. The animosity had been building between the two men since Woody had moved into the house, and she was getting tired of it. She couldn’t believe that Woody’s heroics angered Reid, but they did. Didn’t Reid understand what Woody had done for them today?

Reid opened a drawer in the kitchen, took out a box of strike-anywhere matches, and went out into the main hallway. Woody followed. Reid opened the closet door and looked in at the ancient gas-fired apparatus. Woody moved inside first, and Reid followed him, irritated.

“You’ll just get dirty,” Reid said. “I’ll do it. I’ve done it before. You’ll waste time trying to figure out where to put the match. And you can’t beat it into the hole. This isn’t like fighting. Takes finesse.”

“Oh, Reid. I know where to put the match. They just won’t let me.”

“Look, Woody, relax,” Reid said. “This isn’t a contest.” He knelt down and looked at the pilot. “It’s out. Give me an inch or two. Maybe you could step out into the hall?”

Woody moved against the wall and laughed. “I’m sorry, Reid. I didn’t mean anything. Honestly, it’s just my smart-ass side.”

“There isn’t room for both of us in this closet. No way either of us can light it unless one of us gets out.”

“I’m going,” Woody said as he tried to squeeze his bulk around Reid, their faces inches apart. “I’ve earned my points today. Maybe I should let you get a few… so you can justify your presence.”

“You fuckin’ cocky-”

There was the sudden sound of fast-paced footsteps against the wood floor. Breached! Instantly the professional baby-sitter knew several things. Someone, two or more someones-people alien to this environment-were moving up the hall from the front rooms, toward the family in the kitchen. He knew there weren’t supposed to be any people inside the house who could come from the front quadrant. As he was assimilating this, he was moving for the doorway and reaching for his holstered gun. But Reid pressed against him and slowed the action.

Woody uttered a last warrior’s curse because he knew that if it wasn’t for some immediate miracle… there would be nothing left to do but die badly in a closet that wouldn’t even allow for the two of them to fall down. Dead-meat sandwich.

Laura heard a sudden commotion from the hallway and voices, and before she could react, a man moved into the kitchen with a gun in his hand. Sean was drawing his pistol and moved across the nook to put himself between the intruders and the children. It all happened in a split second. Before she recognized the man, Sean’s gun was already aimed at him, and she was horrified that he might fire.

“No, Sean! It’s Paul.”

“I know,” he said, dropping the gun’s hammer carefully.

Suddenly everyone froze. Reb and Erin hadn’t even reacted and were still in conversation, facing each other. They turned at the same instant, and Erin screamed involuntarily.

“You’re all dead, just dead as dead gets,” Paul Masterson said angrily, his one good eye twice normal size. “I just strolled in past your outer ring of cops, killed the agent on your perimeter and two men who were stuffed into the water closet like a pair of lovers. If I had been Martin, I could have killed everybody in this room, gone out the back door, and been free to stroll off. What the hell is wrong with you people?”

It had taken Laura’s brain a second to register that the man who had entered her kitchen was not the one she had expected, and then to realize it was Paul. The incongruity of his appearing at all had caused mental confusion. Not knowing how to react, her mind sent a message to her brain to giggle. She giggled.

Paul moved aside to allow Rainey, Woody, and Reid to enter the kitchen. The children were both staring at their father with their mouths open. Woody looked embarrassed but relieved. Reid looked confused, unsure how to react.

“Where the hell’s Thorne?” Paul asked, looking at Sean.

“He’s out… for a while…” Sean said.

Paul seemed to ignore his family as he spoke. “Agents Merrin and Poole, Rainey and I skirted two patrol cars with no trouble, took out Vance in front, walked right up to the porch, and opened the door. If I were Martin Fletcher, I’d be up to my ass in bodies! Is this how you follow my orders? The front door wasn’t even locked, for Christ’s sake. Do I have to do everything myself?”

Erin began crying hysterically, her face collapsing in on itself, and she ran past Paul, down the hallway, and up the stairs. He watched her out of sight but said nothing. His face might have been stone.

“What the hell’s wrong with her?” he said. “It isn’t her fault.”

“We weren’t expecting you,” Sean said defensively.

“Oh… if it had been someone you were expecting, that would be different?”

“Sir,” Woody started. “It was unforgivable.”

“We just thought…” Sean started. “I guess we relaxed because the mother is on her way out today and we assume Martin is otherwise engaged.”

Paul’s lower lip was trembling. “If I had replacements available, I’d can the whole lot of you.”

“No, sir,” Sean said. “We’ll torque up.”

Woody nodded. Paul turned to Reid and stared at him. “You must be Dietrich.”

Reid extended his hand, and after a pause that dragged on far too long, Paul accepted it, pumped it once, and dropped it. He focused his eye on the man and frowned.

“You don’t know what she’s been through today,” Reid said.

“Who, Laura?”

“Erin.”

Dear God, Laura thought. If he finds out, we’ll have another terrible scene with the kids. Let him find out later.

“We’re fine now,” Laura said, her eyes burning a warning into Reid’s. “Erin just decided to act like a teenager today.”

“Mr. Dietrich, has anyone explained the kind of danger you’re exposed to by being here?” he asked him. “I would advise you to find some other place for a few days.”

“Paul!” Laura said. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Well, I don’t think he’s aware of the stakes.”

“I am,” Reid said. “Fully aware. And I am not going anywhere.”

“What the hell do you mean storming into my house as if you own it? What gives you the right to speak to my friend like that? To come in here uninvited, waving a gun around.”

Paul looked at his ex-wife and dropped his head a fraction of an inch. Then he looked at his son as if he had just realized he was in the room. He holstered the Colt and took his cane from Rainey.

“Sorry, Mr. Dietrich,” he said. “Hello, son.”

He turned to Sean and Woody, but before he could speak, the front door slammed shut. Paul whirled, launched down the hall, and the house was filled with the sounds of Paul Masterson’s wrath and Thorne’s muffled replies. The dog ran into the kitchen dragging his leash and cowered against Reb’s leg. Rainey stood in the doorway and appeared both embarrassed and a bit amused. He nodded at Laura, and she walked over and hugged him.

“Don’t much care for the company you’re keeping,” she said. “But it’s really good to see you.” She hugged him.

“When you moved inside here, the security should have been far more intensive,” Paul said as he and Thorne entered the room. “Is this the way you watch your movie stars? By walking their dogs? Can’t the animal water the plants inside the gate?”

“No-well, yes, Paul. It’s… I mean, it isn’t the same thing. We’ve been at it around the clock. We shouldn’t have lowered our guard. I wanted to stretch my legs. It’s just that we’re so relieved we got Erin back…” He stopped. “I left four good men here.”

Laura rolled her eyes skyward.

“Four?”

“Nelson’s out back,” Thorne said.

“Missed that one,” Paul said. Then he realized what Thorne had said. “Got Erin back… back from where?”

Reb was still staring at his father, unsure what to say, his face blank. “Woody kicked the guy’s ass and broke his arm,” he said finally.

Paul looked at Reb, his face giving away nothing.

Laura was doing a slow burn; Reid stood with his arms crossed. “I don’t want this Erin incident discussed now.” She cut her eyes to indicate Reb’s presence.

Rainey said, “Laura, could you take Reb and Reid upstairs for twenty minutes? Paul needs to talk to Thorne.”

They filed out. As they passed Paul, Reb looked up at his father. Paul stared at him and winked. Or maybe he had just blinked. It was a guess either way, because he hadn’t smiled at all. As Reb was led from the room by his mother, he turned so his eyes could stay locked on his father until he was led out of sight.

After the room was cleared of civilians, Paul sat on a stool and lit a cigarette. “What’s this shit about Erin?”

As Thorne told the story, Paul listened carefully, alternating his gaze, and made no motion save a few shakes of his head in disgust.

After Thorne finished, Paul looked at Sean and Woody, and his tight mouth relaxed into a brief smile. “Thank you, Woody, for saving my daughter. Sean, shit happens and you fucked up, but you recovered nicely. I hope you’ve learned a lesson. You know how dangerous this operation is, and what happened had nothing to do with Martin. If Martin had been around, we’d be in mourning right now instead of celebrating the safe return.” He crushed out the cigarette. “Are you all back to one hundred percent?”

The men nodded.

“Now, what makes you think Martin doesn’t know everything we know?” Paul said.

“Even I’m not sure what we know. What do we know?” Thorne said. “We’re like so many mushrooms here. In the dark.”

“Have you swept the house lately for bugs… today?”

“No. We’ve had it under our control since-”

“He had bugs in place before you came in, right? So he knew you were here.”

“We assume that,” Sean started.

“Assume?” Paul said. “Who told you that you could assume anything?” Paul stared at Thorne and tightened the line of his lips.

Thorne’s face betrayed the insecurity he felt. His status had sunk from ruler of the roost to advanced amateur in a heartbeat. He was embarrassed and trying to fight the urge to be defensive in front of his men.

Paul wrote something on a piece of paper and held it up.

It said: Kill our transmitters.

Paul turned and poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t look up again until Sean had run the frequency-sweeping equipment through the rooms. Paul smoked a cigarette and dropped the ashes into the garbage can.

“Nothing,” Thorne said after the search was completed. “Not so much as a blip.”

“Our lasers?”

Thorne said, “Disarmed.”

“Very good,” Paul said. He patted Thorne on the shoulder. “Let’s forget the lapse. It happens. I’ve been known to relax myself. Let’s just make sure it doesn’t happen again. We’re entering the most dangerous time of the operation. Every single assigned agent is about to swing into motion in Charlotte and Miami. But for right now, when you feel safest, you have to be most alert. What we least expect may well happen. We’re dealing with very crafty men.”

Paul lit another cigarette. “Did you know that Martin can capture signals from bugs planted by others? He explained it to me once. Piggybacking he called it, and he said he had perfected it. Maybe he was just bragging.”

“You mean, if he knew we were using the window readers, he could intercept the signal?”

Paul shrugged. “You turned off the transmitters, so we’re okay now. Sorry I got so excited. It’s my nerves. Martin probably wouldn’t come in like I did. He isn’t into suicide. He’s too goal oriented.” He looked at Thorne and smiled. “I’m telling you? You knew him as well as I did. In fact you were the first one at DEA who suspected him of being the leak.”

Thorne perked up again, feeling adequately restored as leader of his team in the eyes of the agents.

“Martin’s accomplice is a man named Kurt Steiner,” Paul said. “My guess is that he’s here in New Orleans. So even though we don’t expect Martin to be in New Orleans tonight, Steiner may be. He might do something dramatic to draw us here. What he lacks in the sort of personal motivation driving Martin he will undoubtedly make up in some other compensation.”

“Asshole buddies?” Thorne asked, laughing.

Paul frowned. “Agent Lee and I are flying out in an hour or so because I plan to be in Miami when Eve gets there. Whichever way she moves, we intend to have her covered. My people will be in place in Miami, Dallas, or Denver-wherever she heads. We have every confidence we’ll find Martin. If we miss his friend, the game will not be over. When we take Martin, we have to take Steiner as well. All we have so far is a set of his fingerprints from an Argentine police ID.”

“That’ll be a trick. Any chance of a picture?” Thorne asked.

“Not clear yet,” Paul said. “Have you swept the house for explosives like I asked?”

“Yes, sir,” Sean offered. “It’s clean.”

“You mean it’s clean as far as a dog could tell. I don’t plan to take the chance that Martin doesn’t know how to fool a dog’s nose. My family has to be moved to a secure location unknown to anyone outside this house. Nobody is to have a chance to get through to Laura and the kids. They won’t be able to resume a normal existence until Martin and his friend are neutralized.”

“Force her into exile?” Woody said it before he had a chance to think.

Paul froze and looked at him. “Of course. Safe house somewhere until this is over.”

“Sir, no disrespect intended, but what if she doesn’t want to go? Mrs. Masterson doesn’t strike me as someone willing to give up her life to Martin Fletcher or anyone else.”

“Might want to discuss it with her,” Thorne said. “You forget she doesn’t take orders from us, and she hasn’t been in love with the intrusion.”

“She’ll do what has to be done. For the kids.” For weeks, months, years? No, she wouldn’t.

“Maybe the Laura you were married to would have let fear rule her life. But I don’t think we’re talking about the same lady,” Thorne said.

“She’ll follow my orders,” Paul said. “For Adam-Reb and Erin.”

“I don’t imagine Fletcher or his friend will follow your orders,” Woody said.

Suddenly Paul wondered what else he was taking for granted. He began to feel anxious. The next few hours took on an entirely different cast in his mind. Martin may act in or out of character. What if all of the scenarios I’ve anticipated are worthless? Why do I assume Martin will cooperate in his own defeat? How much of what I’m doing is based on what other people think? How much of our intelligence is inaccurate?

Paul turned, wrote a note, folded it. “Thorne, have a word?” When Thorne approached the counter, he handed it to him. It said: What do we know about Reid?

Thorne folded the note and whispered. “Usual check when we started. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You see yearbook shots from his high school?”

Thorne looked at Paul, surprised. “He’s okay, he’s been here for over a year.”

Paul finished the thought. “Very firm handshake for a salesman. Hard calluses on his hands for a paper shuffler.”

“He sails. That involves work.”

“I see. Doesn’t he travel a lot?”

“The man owns a business.”

“Well, just to humor me, keep an eye on him. Keep Woody close to him.”

Paul turned to look at the two younger agents who were talking with Rainey. “I’ll be upstairs.”

The doors Paul was certain belonged to the children were closed tightly, and he walked by, slowing only slightly to listen for conversation. He followed the sound of voices to what he presumed was Laura’s bedroom. The door was cracked open, but he tapped with the ivory head of the cane.

“Come in,” Laura said.

He opened the door and walked in. He had no idea what he was going to say.

“This was quite a surprise,” Laura said. She sat on the end of her bed with her arms linked across her breasts defensively. Reid was standing by the window. Evidently their conversation had not been an entirely pleasant one. Reid looked relieved that Paul had interrupted. Paul noted a pair of loafers parked beside the bed. The side of the bed he himself had once inhabited. Laura’s eyes met his as he lifted his gaze from the floor, and he knew she knew what he had been looking at. “If I’m interrupting, I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t have much time.”

“Not at all,” Laura said. “I have to say, of all the people I didn’t expect to see, you’re at the top of the list.”

“Sorry I couldn’t announce I was coming. There was a chance Martin might have discovered the fact, and it could have spurred him to try something radical.”

“Secrecy was always easy for you,” she said.

“I was just telling Laura that I don’t think we’re safe here. I think the family should move,” Reid said. “Laura disagrees.”

“Why is that?”

“The house is large, fairly open, and this guy, Martin, has been in here before. Planted bugs, right?”

“I’d bet Martin knows this place as well as anybody. He probably knows all our strengths and weaknesses. I imagine he knows a lot about you as well.” Paul locked eyes with Reid. I wish I did.

Laura spoke evenly. “We’re perfectly safe in this house. I am sure Thorne’s men will be careful from here on.”

“What do you suggest, Reid?”

“Reid thinks we’d be safer on his boat,” Laura said. “On the lakefront.”

“I don’t know anything about this boat,” Paul said. “Fill me in.”

“Thorne’s seen it,” Reid said. “It’s a forty-eight-footer built in the forties. Three cabins. Docked at the yacht club. Solid wooden hull. All the amenities of home. I know little about guarding and defense, but it can be docked at the end of a pier, which can be covered from all around with a few men. No way to sneak up on it.”

“Too much chance Martin might know about it. Vulnerable from underneath. Martin’s at home in the water. Better to pick a hotel at random… home of a friend. He’s had ears in here.”

“That’s the other thing. The boat’s not common knowledge. I don’t imagine we’ve discussed it in the past weeks, except possibly for the work that was being done on it. But it wasn’t scheduled to be returned until next month. They finished early. We hadn’t been on it for months until a few days ago, because it was in dry dock. I don’t think your Martin or anyone else would imagine us being there. Plus, it sits high in the water. No one could slip on board without coming on from the dock. And there’s a front coming through tonight. No one would think we’d be sitting on a boat in a thunderstorm.”

Paul looked at Reid for a few seconds, sizing him up, this man who had taken his place in his family. A bolt of jealousy moved through him. Her house-his yacht. Cozy. Paul resented feeling like a man who had sold his old car for two hundred dollars and learned that the buyer had sold it a day later to a museum for a hundred thousand. That wasn’t what had happened, and Paul was aware that he had no right to be upset. Nonetheless, the thought dug into him, and it wasn’t a shallow trench.

It was hard for Paul to look into Reid’s eyes, but Reid seemed intent on studying him as they spoke. He realized that Reid was sizing him up, too.

“I was hoping for a few minutes to talk,” Paul said. “Alone.”

“I don’t want to see Laura upset,” Reid said. “You seem to have a talent for doing that to people.”

Laura turned her eyes from Paul to Reid and smiled. “How much more upset do you think I can get? I’m fine, Reid.” She kissed his cheek as he went by, and Paul noticed she didn’t close her eyes as she did. “Go,” she said. “And don’t fight with Woody. He can kick your ass, you know.”

Paul’s heart sank. He had not imagined how painful it would be to see her kissing another man, even superficially. But he couldn’t let his jealousy color his opinion of Reid. Who is Reid? He wanted to ask Laura questions but he didn’t.

Paul and Laura maintained position and were silent until Reid had closed the door.

“I like the house,” he said, making a stab at conversation. “Real nice… the furnishings are…”

“Paul, we aren’t going to waste this time talking about decorating, are we?”

“No. So the kids… they’ve grown.”

“Kids do that. They’re like weeds-they grow whether you watch or not.”

“I deserve your sarcasm,” he said.

“As a matter of fact you do, Paul. All of our lives were very manageable before Martin started running about killing our old friends. Destroying the future. That’s what he’s doing, you know. He has no future, and he’s refusing to allow you to have one either. He’s evil but he’s also pathetic, because he can’t help what he is. Evil is easier than good. Want to tell me what you guys did to him that made him go to all this trouble? It wasn’t arresting him, was it?”

“I framed him.”

“You what?”

“I planted the drugs and money he went to prison for having.”

“Dear God,” she said. “You bent the law? You?”

“I guess you’re upset and I-”

“Upset! Paul Masterson, you self-centered asshole! I’ve had people listening in on me while I’m making love in my own bedroom. My children are in danger of having their throats cut in their sleep because you dangle us as bait for God knows how long. Jesus, Paul… upset?” She sat on the end of the bed, stood, and then sat down again. “Even from Montana you’ve been ruining our lives.”

“Reid seems like a nice guy,” he said.

Laura looked taken aback. “He is. He has his own money, his own separate life, and we see each other when we feel like it. Perfect with me. I hope you’ve been seeing someone.”

“One someone. A girl.”

“I hope it’s a girl.” She laughed. “In Montana?” “Nashville.”

“Recent development, then. Nice girl?”

“Yeah. Really nice. She’s studying anthropology.” Paul wished he hadn’t mentioned Sherry. “She’s young. Too young, I think.” It wasn’t a relationship, though maybe it could be.

“She’ll be at home in Montana?”

At home in Montana? No, I don’t think it’s like that at all. God, I wish I could grab her and things could be the way they were. Paul shifted his weight so the cane took more of it off the floor. His leg hurt. “Saw the paintings downstairs. Well, I didn’t look close. I wanted to. I’m glad your career has… You’ve done so well.”

“We get by financially. Hell, we do really great in that department. It’s just hard because there’s never enough time. The kids help out and don’t complain too much, but I’ve been working seven days a week. The show.”

“Germany. I heard. We always planned to go to Germany, remember?”

She dropped her arms to her sides. “I need to start getting the children ready if we’re leaving. For the boat, I mean.”

Paul caught something in Laura’s eyes. Something soft. A memory passing through. She has to feel something… deep inside, maybe?

“Laura. I’m changing,” he blurted.

“I’m happy for you,” she said. “I hope we’re all changing.”

“The last time we were together… I seem to remember that we had a fight.”

She laughed. “Had a fight? Had a fight? Paul, you have a talent for understating. The police came. You destroyed our bedroom. Threw a doorstop through the TV set. Slapped…”

“I hit you?”

“Yes, you did hit me. But I accept my share of the blame. Drop that weight here. That’s the past and you weren’t yourself.”

“Your share?”

It was as if a curtain that he had been peeking under lifted to reveal a reality he had covered over in his mind to make it bearable. He remembered the way a drunk will remember the night before, in swatches, unpleasant swatches of humiliating moments. He remembered that he had made a sexual overture after a day of throwing temper tantrums and snapping at the family. He remembered pulling Laura close and kissing her. He remembered that she had pushed him away and started crying. “Don’t touch me!” she’d said. “Who the hell are you? I don’t even know who you are!”

“What’s wrong?” he’d said.

“What’s wrong? Look in the mirror. Tell me what’s wrong. You aren’t the man I married, the man who fathered my children. You’re a mutilated madman who terrorizes my family. What makes you think I want to sleep with you?” She had turned to leave. “I’d rather take a beating.”

He had seized her from behind by the shoulders and thrown her to the bed. Then he had pinned her and started taking her blouse off. And she had… she had… laughed. She had laughed. “Oh, please fuck me, mister,” she had said, laughing. “It’s my best fantasy. To be screwed by a monster.”

Then he had taken her, and he had taken her in anger. He had torn her clothes off and had forced himself on her. Had she resisted? Or did she give in? When he had expended himself and collapsed on top of her, she had lain there, still, beneath him.

“Thank you,” he’d said. Thank you? Why not I’m sorry, forgive me? Help me because I hurt and I can’t do anything to feel better.

“Get off me, you freak.” Her voice had been a hard whisper, a hiss.

And he had slapped her, and she had fled to their bathroom and locked the door. He had wanted to apologize, he had wanted to take it all back. He had been ashamed beyond belief. He had flown into a rage that controlled him completely, and he had destroyed the house like a drunken vandal. He remembered sobbing and railing at the injustice of life. He remembered the police banging on the door and finally coming in with their weapons drawn. The image of Laura holding the side of her face, which was swelling, and telling them that everything was okay. Then, through the fog of emotion, Thorne arriving and explaining to the cops what Paul had been through in Miami. He remembered that was why he had left. Anger and shame and the sure knowledge that she and the children were better off alone. Safer alone. He had known that he wasn’t good enough for them as he was. And he was haunted by a future that was lost.

He looked at Laura. I love you… forgive me… God, please, Laura. I love you so much. I feel like I will die without a chance to start again… make up for what I’ve done to you, my children, to myself. But he couldn’t say any of it. “You still have that pocket gun I gave you?”

“Yes. In a box in the closet.”

“I want you to get it and put it in your purse and keep it with you until this is over. I don’t want you to tell anyone, and I mean anyone, that you have it. Not my people, not even Reid.”

“Why not even Reid?” The softness in Laura died and was replaced with stainless steel. “Who the hell are you to tell me to keep something, anything, from him? He cares about me… us. I don’t even know who you are. You can’t even trust your own men. What’s going on here?”

“You share everything with him?”

“Did I ever keep secrets from you?”

We weren’t talking about me. Paul shook his head. “No. I don’t imagine you did. I apologize.”

“I won’t mention it. I mean, if you really believe it’s best. You’re the professional. But I don’t like it.”

“I need to talk to the children.”

She frowned. “Well, Paul, you’ve already talked to your son. You remember, don’t you? I do. I found him staring out the window at three o’clock in the morning thinking about how wonderful the experience was. And Erin probably has a few things she wants to impart, but I doubt you want to hear them.”

“I’ve made some-”

“Mistakes, you weren’t really going to say mistakes, were you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s make this the last mistake, shall we?” She stood again. “Let me see if they want to say good-bye. Then, either way, I want you to just leave us in peace. A bunch of false promises will just… You’ve already done enough damage for a lifetime.”

“I said I’ve changed.”

“What, you just read Embraced by the Light or The Road Less Traveled or something? Had a spiritual awakening, have you? Oh, Paul, give me a break.”

“No.”

“Do what you want, you always have.” She whirled and left the room, leaving only her scent lingering. Paul fought the urge to throw himself onto the bed and cry like a baby. Inside, where his heart lived, he did just that. He was sick with himself. Facing himself as she saw him was more painful than anything he had ever felt before. It was torture.

Erin was staring out the window when her father tapped at her door.

“What?” she said, her voice filled with irritation. “Is he still here?”

He opened the door and stuck his head in. “Erin, I wanted to say something to you. As your father.”

“You aren’t my father.” She lifted the picture of her on Paul’s shoulders. He was smiling-her tongue was sticking out at the camera. “This was my father, but he’s dead.” She tossed the photo onto the bed, facedown.

“Erin,” he started. “I’m leaving in a few minutes. I wanted to say that I know what I have done to you, what I’ve been, and I hope the future can be different from the past.”

“It will. Because I won’t waste time caring about you anymore. I wasted a lot of days and nights thinking about… feeling responsible for… Never mind. Why don’t you just get out of here? We don’t need you.”

Paul searched her eyes to see if she was serious or talking out of pain. He realized he didn’t know how to read his child’s eyes. He didn’t know who she was. He felt as if he had walked into a world where things reminded him of something he had once known, but where he was a stranger. He felt unwelcome-was unwelcome. Why shouldn’t I feel like this? he wondered. These people don’t know me. Why did I think they would?

“Go away,” she said.

“Erin, pack some things,” Laura called from the hallway.

“I’m not going anywhere with him.”

“We’re going to the Shadowfax. Your f-Paul is going”-she looked at Paul, who didn’t offer a destination-“someplace else.”

Erin turned her back and stood with her arms crossed. “Erin,” Paul said, “I… I hoped… Erin. I’m not very good at saying what I mean… I…”

“That isn’t what Reb said. Reb said you were very good at saying what you mean. If you have anything else to say to me, drop it in the mail with the annual package. And, Mr. Masterson, I don’t play with dolls or stuffed animals anymore. Just so you’ll know.”

She turned her back on her father, dismissing him.

He left the room, turned, and stood with his back to Erin until Laura closed the door. “Want to see what Reb has to say?”

Reb was seated on his bed with his hands in his lap, a stern look on his face. He might have been waiting to take a spanking. Paul entered the room. Laura stayed in the hall.

“Hi, Reb,” he said. “Can I speak to you?”

“Hi, Daddy,” Reb said, smiling. “I didn’t mean to call you. I’m sorry I did it. It was a real bad thing to do.”

Paul walked over and sat on the bed beside his son. He looked at Laura, and she said, “I’ll be in the studio.” Then she closed the door.

“I’m sorry I went off on you, Reb.” He put a hand on Reb’s shoulder. “It was really, really mean of me. What you did was right.”

“Why’d you do it? ’Cause you were hurt?” Reb looked at Paul’s face, reached up, and touched the scar gently as if he thought a sudden move might frighten the tissue away. “It isn’t so bad lookin’.”

“It’s not that, exactly. I did it because I felt guilty. Of staying away. Of hiding from you. Other things… adult reasons.”

“You felt guilty all the time? Since when?”

“Since this happened.”

“It hurt, Mama said. You almost died.”

“Yes. It hurt. It hurt me worse inside than outside.”

“I don’t know what that feels like. Not at the same time, I mean. I know what guilty feels like, though. And pain, too.”

“Reb. It’s hard for me to say things… you know, personal things to people. Always has been. Sometimes I want to say the right thing and I can’t decide what that is. I can’t put my feelings into words. Sometimes even when I know the words, I can’t say them. It’s like there’s this wall inside me that I can’t make myself climb.”

“I do that. I mean, like when I didn’t have a daddy. Reid is a good daddy sometimes. He tries, but he isn’t used to kids. I guess we make him nervous. He keeps my secrets, though.”

“I want you to know something just between us, okay?”

“A secret?”

“Yeah, I think you might say that. Sure, let’s call it a secret. Reb, I love you and Erin as much as I ever loved anyone or anything, and the distance between here and there and between us because I haven’t been around doesn’t mean I love you any less. I need to tell you that I think about you guys every day. If it hadn’t been for the memories I had of you… before this happened… well, they kept me going. I can say that you saved my life more than once.” Your old man knows the sharp taste of gun oil.

“We never wanted to be away from you.”

“Well, Reb, you and I are going to be close from now on. I promise I’ll be a better father to you. And Erin, too… when she isn’t mad at me anymore.”

“Will it hurt if that bad man kills me?”

“Reb? Don’t be afraid of him. You have protection.”

“I mean, I’m not scared… if he kills me. I’m a guy… guys die all the time. But Erin and Mama? Is it true that only a coward hurts women?”

As true as anything there is. Paul put a hand on Reb’s shoulder. “Reb, only the worst kind of coward hurts women. I promise you. I’m going to make it a full-blown, big-sky, cowboy promise like my Uncle Aaron used to make to me. I swear by the stars that no hombre beneath ’em is ever gonna harm one hair on your head.”

“You won’t let ’em?”

“Hey, cowboy, that’s a big-sky promise. He can’t hurt you now, ’cause I won’t let him. That’s the truth.”

“And you’ll always tell me the truth? Promise?”

“I’ll never lie to you.” He crossed his heart. “I’ll never lie to you again in word or deed.”

Reb poured himself into his father’s arms, and Paul hugged the boy, and once again it was all he could do to keep from crying out loud. He had never felt so empty and full at the same time. It was the most wonderful feeling along with about the worst. It was frustration and fear and love. He had forgotten what unconditional love was all about. But at that moment he remembered, and he knew something he had not allowed himself to think about. He knew exactly what he’d thrown away.

Paul dropped his voice to a whisper. “Reb. It’s a secret, but I’m going to Miami. After tonight, if everything goes as planned, you will all be safe from the bad man.”

“Promise?”

“I promise I’ll do everything that can be done.”

Paul found Laura in her studio, standing before a canvas holding a brush.

“Reb is okay,” he said. “I mean, I think we can build a relationship. It isn’t too late, I hope?”

Laura said, “I’d say that’s up to you. Kids are forgiving creatures.”

Are adults? “I’m leaving. Gotta get into the air.”

Laura wanted to say something. She looked at Paul, and he knew she wanted to say something that she wasn’t going to say. What?

“Anything else?” he said. “Anything?”

“Make sure Martin Fletcher can’t ever hurt another child.”

He nodded. “Martin Fletcher will never harm another child.”

Laura turned and began painting even as tears blurred her vision. I hate you, Paul, I love you, Paul. She resisted the voice that told her to go to him and throw herself into his arms.

Paul was fighting the urge to turn her around and pull her close. He took a deep breath, turned, and walked out, the cane tapping the time of his steps. Rainey joined him in the hallway.

She heard the front door close and sat down in a chair and sobbed.

Outside, Thorne held Paul’s door open as he climbed into the car.

“I’ll call in a van to take them to the boat,” Thorne said.

Paul fixed a gaze on him. “Forget it.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll do this. I have to check it out myself-nothing personal. You get back inside and guard them close. I’ll get some help here in a little while. Stay put for now.”

“But your flight.”

“I’ll take care of this before I fly out. I’ve got time.”

Thorne watched the car until it was out of sight. The agent looked up at the sky where the clouds were being pushed northward at impressive speed by the incoming wind. It made him feel dizzy to watch them. He could smell rain in the air. Thorne saw a tight schedule lining up for the evening.