Richard Patterson - Fall from Grace

“I understand.”

“I’m sure you do,” Gold answered in a tougher voice. “So let’s take that problem to its logical conclusion. Suppose you find out that your father was murdered by a member of your family. Is that something you really want to know?”

Adam bent forward, chin propped on folded hands. “That depends on whether I can protect them.”

Gold shook his head in reproof. “There’s more to it than that,” he said sternly. “There’s the psychological burden you’d carry for the rest of your life, no matter what you thought of Ben. But there’s also a legal and moral problem. If one of them killed your father, what do you do? Do you let the DA charge an innocent man or woman? And if Hanley puts you on the stand, do you lie to save your brother or mother and ruin the life of someone else? Or your own?” Gold paused, then finished in a calm, emphatic tone, “When I encouraged you to enter the law, I knew you to be an unusually smart and capable young man. That’s how you strike me now-though whatever life you’re leading has made you as hard as you think necessary. But the road I see you choosing, Adam, is a perilous one. You can’t know where it ends.”

Adam felt his own apprehension. “I appreciate that.”

“Then let’s talk about what you can count on without placing yourself at moral hazard. Hanley has to prove that there was a murder, then identify the murderer beyond a reasonable doubt. The police don’t have a witness to Ben going off that cliff-all they’ve got, thanks to Nathan Wright, is an unidentified person who could have pushed him. Whatever apparition Nate saw doesn’t disprove that Ben fell by accident or, aware that he was dying, decided to jump. Even if your mom’s or Teddy’s DNA is on his body, that could have happened through normal contact-which is also true of Carla, by the way. And the cause of death, no doubt a brain hemorrhage, sheds no light on why he fell.” As Gold paused, Adam could see his mind at work, the swift sequence of thoughts in his narrowed eyes. “Maybe the police have more,” he conceded. “I’d like to see the crime scene workup, and the notes from their interviews of Clarice, Jack, Teddy, Carla, and Jenny Leigh. For sure I’d want that pathologist’s report-”

“So would I.”

“But you can’t get it, can you?” Gold looked past him into the darkness, speaking with a clinical dispassion. “I always found your father’s company bracing. Why wouldn’t I, when he had no effect on me or those I loved? But all too often he was a selfish, callous man, heedless of anything but what he wanted. God knows how many people, at some point in their lives, were damaged by Benjamin Blaine-some of whom, if only for a moment, surely wished him dead.

“I felt that most acutely for those closest to him-Clarice, Teddy, Jack, and even you, the only one enough like Ben to stand up to him. But somehow he found a way to damage even you.” Leaning forward, Gold looked intently into Adam’s face. “I don’t know how, and I’m not asking. Instead, I’m imploring you-whatever you’ve made of your life since then, don’t let him damage you still more.”

A moment passed before Adam could speak. “Avi,” he said, “he’s already done all he can. The only harm he can do me now is through my mom or Teddy.”

“You’re too smart to believe that,” Gold objected. “If you keep conducting your own investigation, or get drawn back into the past, you could become entangled in Ben’s web in ways you can’t imagine. Go too far-talk to too many witnesses, find out too much you shouldn’t know-and you could find yourself charged with obstruction of justice. The psychic prison Ben put you in is bad enough. Don’t let him consign you to a real one.”

Adam felt a moment of deep fear. Covering this, he said lightly, “Believe me, I’m happy where I am.”

“In Helmand Province?” Gold shot back. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit you tell Clarice. But I do know people who serve there. Whatever you actually do, there are no safe places, or safe jobs.” He spoke more quietly. “But that’s not my problem, is it? My concern now is trying to keep you safe on Martha’s Vineyard. I’m giving you the name of the best criminal lawyer in Boston for Teddy, and suggesting you resign as executor. Your father has laid too many traps already.”

In that moment, feeling the kindness beneath Gold’s acuity, Adam did not wish to answer. “True enough,” he said. “But for which one of us?”

Gold shook his head-a little sadly, it seemed to Adam. But when Adam stood, Gold clasped him by the shoulders. “I always liked you, Adam, and admired your promise. If you need me again, please call. This time I want you to escape this place unharmed.”

When Adam arrived home, the light in the guesthouse was on.

Adam found Teddy painting something new-the still life of a fried egg in a pan, perfectly rendered, the illusion of dimension lent by a shadow beneath the yolk. Without looking up, Teddy said casually, “I was cooking the other morning, and this came to me. Breakfast as art.”

His brother had such gifts, Adam thought, and deserved so much better than life had given him. “You shame me, Ted. Until now I thought breakfast was food.”

Teddy laughed. “You always were a philistine, Adam. Though you were good at sailing boats.” He turned to look at his brother, and then his face changed, reflecting what he saw on Adam’s. “Isn’t this past your bedtime? It’s morning in Afghanistan.”

“That’s why I’m up.” Adam sat across from him. “Tell me what happened that night.”

Teddy’s careless voice did not match the wariness in his eyes. “Dad fell off a cliff. I thought you knew.”

For a moment, Adam felt the undertow of Gold’s all-too-good advice. Then he said harshly, “Enough fencing, Ted. Tell me what I don’t know.”

Teddy’s forced smile stopped at the corner of his mouth. “That sounds like a riddle, doesn’t it? Only you can know what you don’t know.”

“Then I’ll tell you what I do know.” Adam’s speech became staccato. “The cops believe you were there that night. They also know about the call to your ex-lover, who revealed that your childhood fantasy of giving Dad a shove persisted well into adulthood. He seems to lack our bond of loyalty. But then he never met our father, did he?”

Hunched on his stool, Teddy had turned pale. “How did you learn all this?”

“That’s my concern. I’ve got the name of a lawyer, and you damn well need to hire him.”

“With whose money?”

“Mine, for now. No matter how this mess turns out, one of us will have some.” Adam lowered his voice. “You’re my brother, Ted. I don’t know what our mother knows, but she won’t hear this from me. For everyone’s sake, don’t tell her anything more than she knows already. If it helps, you can pretend she’s me.”

Teddy stared at him. “What’s happened to you, Adam?”

“Life.”

Teddy shook his head. “‘Life’ is what you used to be full of-our father’s energy, our mother’s core of optimism. Now you’re watchful, and cold as ice. So you tell me something for a change. What the fuck is it that you do when you’re not with us?”

Even while fearing for himself, Adam saw, Teddy also feared for him-why he seemed so different, and what might happen to him now. Expelling a breath, he said, “All right, Ted-the truth, between brothers. It’s true I work for Agracon. It’s also true that I ask farmers who grow poppies for the Taliban to grow something else. What I’ve lied about is that my work isn’t dangerous. It could get me killed or kidnapped in a heartbeat. Knowing that will change you quick enough.

“‘Watchful’? You bet. The Afghans suspect any American-no matter how well intended-of being a spy. That means the friendly tribesman you meet may be setting you up for decapitation. I like my head right where it is. So I take nothing on faith, and believe nothing and no one completely. In that sense, our father trained me well. As for ‘cold,’” Adam finished evenly, “in my work that’s a synonym for ‘nerveless.’ To survive, you have to divorce your brain from your emotions. So if you don’t like who I’ve become, too bad.”