John Miller - The Last Day

“Trey Dibble is dead,” Ward said.

If Ward had been holding a baseball, he could have slipped it into Mark's mouth without touching teeth.

From the den, a fuming Natasha watched Ward and his uncle seated beside the pool in lounge chairs, talking as though nothing had happened. Despite what he'd told his uncle about selling to Flash Dibble, she knew Ward was deeply hurt and torn, and that he wouldn't say that to his uncle. Instead, he would suffer without venting, as usual. She watched for several minutes before she could stand it no longer and stormed outside.

When she approached, Mark looked up at her and made the mistake of smiling one of his patented isn't-the-world-an-oyster smiles.

“Unk,” she said. “I just wanted to say a couple of things.”

“Sure, Natasha,” he replied. “You can say anything to me. We're family.”

“Family. I'm glad you feel that way.” She saw Ward turn his eyes out toward the woods.

“Gambling is a sickness and I'm going to get help so I never do it again,” Mark added.

“Okay… Unk, I refuse to dismiss this by agreeing that you have a disease you should treat, and just letting it go. What you did is unforgivable, because Ward loves and trusts you like a boy trusts his father and you repaid that by betraying him in the worst way. Not because you stole money from him but because you took advantage of him at the lowest point in his life. If he hadn't been grieving for our son, I doubt you would have dreamed of stealing from him, or known he wouldn't be paying attention to the books.”

Ward turned back to the conversation, suddenly interested.

“I loved Barney,” Mark said. “His passing affected all of us deeply.”

“Don't you dare use our child's death as an excuse for your behavior. If only for the sake of his memory, and our grief, you should have never taken the first nickel. If Wardo was alive and you had pulled this crap, he would have prosecuted, and he would never have forgiven you as Ward seems able to do. That's because Ward is a better and far kinder person than his father was.”

“You aren't saying anything that I haven't told myself a thousand times,” Mark said. “I do love both of you.”

“You've put Ward in the position of sacrificing to help you, even though you have been working against his interest by plotting with the Dibbles. Don't you dare deny it. While selling the company will bring you both a lot of money, I do not believe he is going to sell because he wants the financial freedom but to pull your ass out of a fire you made.”

“Flash knows about the game, doesn't he?” Ward asked.

Mark shrugged and stood. “I don't know for sure, but I think he might. I guess I should go.”

“Yes, I think that's a good idea,” Ward said, standing. “I'll tell Gene to tell Flash as soon as the time is right. If he still wants it, without the video game.”

“Maybe Flash Dibble will let you work off the loan by selling cars for him,” Natasha said.

“I deserve that,” Mark said. “If there's anything I can do.”

“I can't imagine another thing you could possibly do for us,” Natasha said firmly. Her hands had been planted on her hips since she'd confronted Mark Wilson. At that moment she was furious with him, but she could never hate him, or anyone else. Neither she nor Ward had ever learned how to do that. And she knew that wasn't a bad thing; it just made them vulnerable.

As soon as his uncle was out of hearing range, Ward stood and said, “The truth is, I'd love to just sketch and paint and lead the reflective life of the artist.”

She laughed. “You should do exactly that, if that would make you happy.” Ward reached out and took her hand, and kissed her gently.

“You make me happy. Thank you,” he said. “I've never seen you so pissed off. Truth is, I should have said what you said to Unk. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.”

“That's okay, darling. Confrontation is what wives are for,” Natasha said.

Just after Mark left, Ward and Natasha took a quick shower together, which led to them ending up in bed afterward, drying themselves in the twisted sheets. If the phone in the den had chimed a minute earlier, it would have interrupted their passion. The doorbell rang.

Ward got off the bed, slipped on his boxers, and put on his robe.

“Where's that gun?”

Natasha put her fingers through her hair, thinking. She frowned. “I put it in the top drawer. I'm getting dressed.”

Ward went over and opened the drawer, looking in at the revolver and the bullets lying beside it. He lifted the gun and opened it, dropping in the five bullets. Putting the pistol into the pocket of his robe, he went to the front door without seeing who had called.

With his right hand gripping the weapon in his pocket, he opened the door to Agent Mayes, whose Crown Victoria was parked behind him. He had a laptop computer under his arm. The guard behind them had his phone in hand, mouthing that he had tried to call ahead.

“Agent Mayes,” Ward said, taking his hand out of his pocket.

“Is this a bad time?” Mayes asked.

“No, what can I do for you?”

“I thought I'd come by personally and give you some news.”

“Where's your partner?” Ward said.

“Agent Firman is tying up a few loose ends,” Mayes said.

“Please, come in,” Ward said.

Natasha came into the den wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt and jeans. She leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed, staring at the FBI agent.

“Agent Mayes brought some news,” Ward said.

“It appears that you were right about Trey Dibble framing you.” Mayes stood as if behind a lectern.

“Early this morning the police caught some underage kids with meth. They said they got it from this computer tech named Bert Marmaduke. The police went to Marmaduke's place and, armed with a search warrant, went in. Somebody had killed Marmaduke. In their investigation, they uncovered evidence that Marmaduke had designed the computer virus. They also found evidence that pointed to Trey Dibble's involvement with Marmaduke in the virus, and Dibble had to be investigated as a suspect in the murder.”

“That's why homicide detectives were at Dibble's place before EMS was,” Ward said.

“How did you know that?” Mayes asked, surprised.

“Rumor our lawyer picked up,” Natasha said.

“Anyway we know Trey paid Marmaduke to design the virus, and he killed Marmaduke to keep us from finding him through the hacker. The police found the murder weapon in Trey's garbage can, the phones they talked on, cash at Marmaduke's with Trey's prints on it, and more. Assistant Federal Attorney Walker should be calling your lawyers to give them the news.”

“That was thoughtful of you,” Natasha said.

“Look,” Mayes said. “Agent Firman and I were just doing our job, and there was never anything personal about it. The FBI doesn't apologize officially, but I wanted to apologize.”

“Not officially, naturally,” Natasha said.

“I wish I could do that.”

Natasha said, “You wouldn't want to put a human face on the FBI.”

“Look, we followed the evidence, and it ran right to you. But when it went off in another direction we followed it. I know how hard this was on you.”

“Really?” Natasha said. “I somehow doubt you do.”

“One thing. We don't know who the guy in the hole was, and maybe he's gone for good… Do you have a gun?”

“Yes, we do,” Ward said.

Mayes said, “I think you should be careful.”

“The guard is staying for a while,” Ward said.

“Agent Mayes,” Natasha said. “The name Gizmo is something I'm sure I've heard before. I mean, everybody's heard the word, but I think I've heard it before in some context other than normal. It feels like something related to my practice, but I can't place when or where I heard it,” she said.