Jeff Abbott: Cut and Run

‘In my car. After a couple of days I called Whit. He came and got me.’ Her Mercedes was back in its garage at the house, where it had been since Gooch was caught, and they had dumped Bucks’ Jag a mile from the burnt-out warehouse late last night.

‘After my mother left town,’ Whit said, ‘the Bellinis left us alone intentionally or were occupied with attacks on them by Public Service. We didn’t know what was happening.’

The detectives watched them in silence. Whit thought he saw a tug of resignation in Vernetta Westbrook’s eyes.

‘Your Honor,’ she said, ‘you told Claudia Salazar you thought Greg Buckman killed Harry Chyme and Richard Doyle. You never explained why.’

‘Frank Polo suggested it to me, I’m sure now in an effort to put attention off of him. This isn’t complicated.’

‘My clients were innocents caught up in the crossfire between the Bellinis and Public Service,’ Charlie said. ‘Ms Michaels has offered her full cooperation with the fraud examiners in the DA’s office, if they want her help in identifying possible points where illegal Bellini funds became legitimate revenue.’

‘But I get immunity, and so do Whit and Gooch,’ Eve said. ‘I can help you sift through every Bellini financial record if you want to go after them. Otherwise, you’re on your own and you’ll find it, I suspect, very difficult to make a case against Tommy and Mary Pat Bellini that gets you their assets.’

Gomez and Vernetta exchanged a glance.

Charlie said, ‘You can try and make a case against my clients, on rather circumstantial evidence, or you can get unparalleled access to the Bellini finances. And also build a case against Public Service, who are nothing more than self-proclaimed domestic terrorists. Choose your headlines, ladies and gentlemen.’

‘I wish you’d stuck to the stage, Charlie,’ Vernetta said.

‘Daddy? Did you hear what I said?’ Whit said. ‘I found Mom.’

Whit broke the news as gently as possible to Babe, sitting at their breakfast table. Irina stared at him as though he’d announced he had cancer himself.

‘What?’

‘I found her over a week ago. That’s why I’ve been in Houston. We came back this morning.’

Babe blinked, took a deep, fortifying breath. ‘Ellen?’

‘She wants to see you,’ Whit said. ‘Would you like to see her?’

‘Whit,’ Irina interrupted. She moved from her chair, a sickly smile of shock on her face, to stand behind Babe, put her hand on his shoulders. ‘Your father, this is too much for him.’

‘I’m okay.’ Babe patted her hand. ‘It’s okay.’ He closed his eyes, passed a hand over his face. ‘Do I want to see her?’ But not asking the question of anyone but himself.

‘When I asked, you said yes. You said you wanted to ask her why she did what she did,’ Whit said.

‘How the hell did you find her?’ Babe said.

‘Long, long story. For later, Daddy.’

Babe’s lip trembled. He put his hands over his face.

‘This was a bad idea,’ Whit said. ‘But if you wanted to make peace with her before…’

The hands came down. ‘Peace. Yes,’ Babe said with sudden, hard resolve. ‘I would like to see her. Bring her in.’ He gave a jagged little laugh. ‘Why not? Life’s too short.’

Whit went out to the car where Eve sat. She followed him into the house, touching the side of the door, glancing around as if cataloging every change the house had weathered in her absence. She walked into the kitchen behind Whit.

‘Hello, Babe,’ Eve said.

Babe stared at her for several long moments. ‘What’s with your hair?’ he finally said.

‘I went red,’ she said.

‘It don’t suit you,’ Babe said. He ran fingertips over his chemo-bald head. ‘But then I got a new look, too.’

‘Dad, maybe Mom would like a cup of coffee. Would that be okay?’ Whit said. ‘Can you be trusted around hot beverages?’ Trying to deflate the tension.

‘I’m not fixing breakfast for this woman,’ Irina, usually the voice of calm reason, announced. ‘Whit, your papa doesn’t need this upset, for God’s sakes…’ Then a torrent of Russian.

Babe whispered, in the babyish Russian he knew. Kissed Irina’s cheek. ‘We moved the coffeemaker while you’ve been gone, Ellie. It’s on the other counter. Help yourself.’

Eve didn’t move. ‘I won’t stay. I’m sorry I left you, Babe. I want you and the boys to know that it had nothing to do with you. It was me. The situation… was such I thought it best I not come home. So I chose not to. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. The boys.’ She stopped, ran a finger along her lip. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. Two words don’t sound adequate. I know.’

Silence. Babe cleared his throat. ‘You know, they didn’t stop crying for a real long time. Wondering why their mama would leave them. Do you have any idea what you tell small kids why they matter, why they’re still worthwhile human beings, why they’re still lovable when their own mother can’t be bothered to love them? I took them to Disneyland six months after you left. For two weeks. I thought it would help. Me herding all six of them, trying to pretend rides and candy and Mickey Mouse could make up for you gone. Jesus, we go, they don’t see anything but moms with their kids. I was cruel trying to help them.’ Now his voice trembled. ‘I don’t hate you for ripping my heart out. But what you did to my boys.’ His voice broke. ‘Treating my sons as disposable is unforgivable.’

‘I’ll ask for their forgiveness,’ Eve said. ‘Yours is a separate issue.’

‘You don’t want my forgiveness,’ Babe said. ‘You show your sorry face in time to stand over my grave and decide you want to play mom thirty years too late.’ He shook his head at Whit. ‘Whit, you lose one, you go find the other?’

‘I’m not trying to replace you, Dad, for God’s sakes.’ Whit took a calming breath. ‘I’m trying to help you both. You’re my parents. Make your peace. Please.’

‘Whit,’ Eve said. ‘Your father is your parent. He’s the one who took care of you.’ She stood. ‘You raised a very fine son, Babe.’

‘Who gives a rat’s ass what you think?’ Babe said.

‘Screaming was not the point of you and Mom talking,’ Whit said.

‘Sure was for me. I said what I wanted.’ Babe got up from his chair. ‘She’s dead to me.’

‘She is back in our lives,’ Whit said. ‘She is not dead.’

‘If yelling makes you happy, Babe,’ Eve said, ‘yell away. I deserve it.’ She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

‘And I thought the chemo made me puke,’ Babe said.

‘Tell me, sweetie,’ Eve said to Irina. ‘Now that he’s retired, what does he talk about? Because I never heard a single word other than oil business, golf, oil, golf, and oh yes, oil with a hint of golf. It was enough to drive you nuts. Did you know he wouldn’t change a diaper? Six kids and he wouldn’t change a single diaper.’

Irina said, very quietly, ‘I don’t know you, Ellen, and I don’t want to.’

‘We’re staying in the guest house,’ Whit said, his chest full and hot. He had never seen the look now on his father’s face, dead love resurrected into absolute, unforgiving hate. ‘Just for tonight.’

‘No,’ Babe said.

‘Yes,’ Whit said. ‘I pay rent. You don’t have to see her if you don’t want.’

‘I won’t stay here if it’s going to upset him,’ Eve said. ‘You know, I did want to apologize. I don’t care if you believe me.’

‘Since when do you care about occupying the high ground?’ Babe said. ‘Tell me, Whit, did she hug you the moment she saw you?’ He gave a jagged laugh. ‘Does she think she’s still in the will?’