Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

“I knew the Barksdales. Are they still around?”

“Not that I know of. Dan never mentioned them. But if they were a prominent family I’m sure somebody here knows. Were they a nice family?”

“Yes,” said Robie. He took a sip of his port. “There was a daughter, Laura, who was very special.”

He turned to see Victoria’s gaze on him. “Special to you?”

“Back then, yes.”

“What happened?”

“People make different choices. Go different ways.”

Victoria sighed, kicked off her sandals, and drew her legs up under her. “Yes they do.”

“How did the doctor’s appointment go?”

“Not all that well. No breakthroughs or anything like that.”

“Are they sure it’s not a physical thing?”

“Yes. He has all the anatomical equipment necessary to speak.”

“Could he be autistic?”

“It’s possible. We’ve had him checked for that, of course, but there are so many different forms on the spectrum I don’t think the doctors can keep them all straight. And they’re making new discoveries every day in the field. Right now, they’re just puzzled.”

“He seems intelligent and aware of things.”

“He is. He’s perfectly normal except he doesn’t talk.” She paused, took a sip of port and said, “Our having Ty wasn’t exactly planned. Frankly, I’m a little old to be having kids, but it just happened. I think your father wasn’t too keen when we found out we were going to have a baby. But let me tell you, when Ty was born that man scooped him up in his arms and I don’t think he ever wanted to let him go. There’s something special about watching a big, strong man be so gentle with a baby, like they’re afraid they’ll break it if they’re not careful. Your father loves that little boy.” She added wistfully, “Sometimes I think he loves Ty more than he loves me. Maybe that’s a good thing, I don’t know.”

Robie searched around for something to say to change the direction of the conversation. “I guess it’s good that Ty is so young. He can’t really understand what’s going on with his father.”

“He understands more than people think. He may not be able to communicate in a conventional way, but that boy sees everything. And he feels things, too. Senses if folks are sad.”

“Like you are now?”

“Like I am now, yes.”

“His arraignment is tomorrow morning at ten. I assume you’re going?”

She looked unsure.

“Victoria?”

“I haven’t decided. I know it’ll look bad if I’m not there. But because I provided Clancy his alibi and the rumor mill is going strong that I slept with the man, folks might think it’s all disingenuous.”

“I still think you should be there.”

“Even if your father doesn’t want me to be?”

“Did he say that?”

“Sometimes it’s what people don’t say that’s the most important.”

“Well, I plan to be there.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“And I’m not leaving here until I get to talk to him.”

“Then I hope you’re prepared to be here a long time, because he is one stubborn son of a bitch.”

“In that regard I am my father’s son.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I was at Danby’s Tavern, but after my little run-in with Pete Clancy and his buddies, I was asked to leave.”

She put her bare feet on the planks. “Then you’re going to stay here.”

“Victoria, you don’t have—”

“Don’t give me any back talk, Will Robie. This is your father’s home, which means it’s your home, too. I’ll have Priscilla get one of the guest rooms ready. It’s not like we don’t have the space. And what’s southern hospitality if I can’t offer my stepson a roof over his head?”

She went inside to talk to Priscilla.

Robie continued to sit in his swing seat, staring out at a darkness that he was coming to understand might hold more uncertainty for him than any of his missions around the world ever had.

So much for coming home.

It was the darkest point of the night immediately before the growing lightness in the eastern sky.

Robie rose from his bed in his comfortable guest room on the second floor of the Willows, slipped on his jeans, and padded out onto the rear upper-story verandah. There was a breeze that carried the salt air of the Gulf to the south and mixed it with that of the freshwater Pearl from the west. The comingled smells had been natural ones for Robie growing up. Indeed, he could hardly remember a morning here when he had not been greeted by that confluence of sea and river air.

Robie was a man well used to seeing everything around him, even if some things (and people) did their best to remain unseen. The slight movement to the left of the rear of the house immediately caught his attention. There was wildlife here, to be sure. But wildlife never walked upright on two feet.

It was a man.

Robie’s gun was under his pillow. He retrieved it, placed it in the back of his waistband, and clambered down the verandah column, alighting softly on the ground.

He squatted down, his eyes roaming from the point where he had last seen the movement and then to the left and right. He didn’t pick up on it again. And he heard no noise after that, neither feet running nor a car starting up.

He stood and tried to reconstruct what he had seen in his head.

Male. Six feet tall or maybe taller. Dark hair, dark clothing. Face partially obscured. About two hundred pounds.

It could have been Pete Clancy, who was around that size. He might have figured that Robie would be staying here after getting kicked out of Danby’s. It was a small town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.

But had he come here on foot? Doubtful. It was a long walk from anywhere. But he’d heard no car start up. A bike? In the silence of the night he would have heard the wheels on the pebbled drive.

He hustled to the front of the house. His rental and the Volvo were parked there. He checked the Volvo. The doors were unlocked. He opened it and peered inside.

It had been searched. Things were strewn all over the place. He tidied up the mess and closed the door.

He looked at his car. It was still locked. It also had an alarm. He would have known if someone had tried to break in.

He turned to look back at the house. There was a light on in an upper window. He watched as she passed back and forth in front of it.

His stepmother was up early. Perhaps to check on Ty? Or was it something else? Did it have something to do with the guy in the bushes?

He reversed his path, clambered up the column to the second floor, and reentered his room. He checked his watch. Nearly five a.m. It would be an hour later in DC. He picked up his phone and made the call.

Blue Man said, “I was surprised you hadn’t communicated yet.”

Robie told him what he had learned thus far. “Is there any way you can get me more information on what the police know? Autopsy report on Clancy? Anything on Janet Chisum? Stuff they have on my father? Anything else at all?”

“That would of course breach all professional decorum. On top of that we do not operate domestically.”

“And I have two heads. Can you?”

“I’ll see what we can find out. In the meantime, keep your only head down and watch your back. The last thing I need is for you to get killed down there.”

“I recall you being the one who suggested that I come here.”

“Still, watch your six.”

“Jessica?” he asked.

“Still out.”

Robie put his phone down and listened as feet padded down the hall. He rose and opened his door in time to see Victoria open her bedroom door. Her room was next to his. She had on a bathrobe that ended mid-thigh. Her long legs were pale and her feet bare.