Deal Breaker

Chapter 35

Myron filled Jake in. Then he drove Christian home. On the way he filled Christian in too. On everything. Christian wanted to know. Myron wanted to spare him, but he knew he didn’t have the right to keep things from him.

Christian did not interrupt with questions. In fact, he said nothing. On the field he was famous for his composure under any situation. Right now, Christian had on his best game face.

When Myron finished, neither spoke for several minutes. Then Myron said, “Are you okay?”

Christian nodded. His face was pale. “Thank you for being up-front with me,” he said.

“Kathy loved you,” Myron said. “Very much. Don’t forget that.”

He nodded again. “We have to find her.”

“I’m trying.”

Christian shifted in the car seat so he could face Myron. “When I was being wooed by all these big agencies, the whole process felt-I don’t know-so impersonal. It was all about money. Still is, I know that. I’m not being naïve here, but you were different. I instinctively knew I could trust you. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’ve become more than just an agent to me. I’m glad I chose you.”

“Me too,” Myron said. “This might not the best time to ask, but how did you hear about me in the first place?”

“Someone gave you a glowing recommendation.”

“Who?”

Christian smiled. “You don’t know?”

“A client?”

“No.”

Myron shook his head. “I have no idea.”

Christian settled back in his seat. “Jessica,” he said. “She told me your life history. About your playing days, your injury, what you went through, how you worked for the FBI, how you went back to school. She said you were the best person she knew.”

“Jessica doesn’t get out much.”

They fell back into silence. The New Jersey Turnpike had a center-lane closure, slowing them down to a crawl. Should have taken the western spur. Myron was about to change lanes when Christian said something that almost made him slam on the brakes.

“My mother once posed in the nude.”

Myron thought he’d heard wrong. “What?”

“When I was a little kid. I don’t know if they were ever printed in a magazine or anything. I doubt it. She wasn’t very attractive by then. She was twenty-five but looked sixty. She worked as a prostitute in New York. On the streets. I don’t know who my father was. She figured he was one of the guys at a bachelor party, but she had no idea which one.”

Myron sneaked a glance at him. Christian stared straight ahead. The game face was still on.

“I thought your mother and father raised you in Kansas,” Myron said carefully.

Christian shook his head. “Those were my grandparents. My mom died when I was seven. They legally adopted me. We had the same last name, so I just pretended they were my real parents.”

Myron said, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. They were wonderful parents. I guess they made a lot of mistakes with my mom, the way she ended up and all. But they were kind and loving to me. I miss them a lot.”

The silence was heavier now. They drove past the Meadowlands. Myron paid the toll at the end of the turnpike and followed the signs to the George Washington Bridge. Christian had bought a place two miles before the bridge, six miles from Titans Stadium. A set of three hundred prefab condos loftily labeled Cross Creek Pointe, one of those New Jersey housing developments that looked like something out of Poltergeist.

As they cruised to a stop, the car phone rang. Myron picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

It was Jessica.

“In Englewood.”

“Take Route four west to seventeen north,” she said quickly. “I’ll meet you in the Pathmark parking lot in Ramsey.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just meet me there. Now.”