Дэвид Балдаччи - The Guilty

“Who?” demanded Reel.

“Little Bill Faulconer, I believe he’s called. We can always use talented hackers. Even more so now that the NSA’s actions have been uncovered. One agency’s loss is another agency’s gain.”

And then Blue Man was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

Robie looked at his father. Dan Robie looked like he had aged ten years. The posture wasn’t as straight, the shoulders sagged, the hair seemed less thick, the man’s energy level was not as robust.

And who could blame him?

“How are you two doing?” Dan said quietly.

Reel said, “I’ll be doing better when I can ditch the wheels.”

Dan looked at his son. “And you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Let’s go in here.”

Dan led them back into the front room. Robie rolled Reel into the room and then sat in a chair next to her and across from his father.

“Your colleague filled me in on some things,” said Dan.

“That is stunning. And possibly illegal,” noted Robie.

“Nothin’ classified, he assured me,” said Dan. “But enough to let me know what you’ve been up to generally, Will.” He looked at Reel. “Both of you.”

Robie could only gape at his father while Reel looked just as surprised but found her voice. “Were you surprised at what your son is doing?”

“I guess I am surprised that I ever found out anythin’ about it.” He looked over at Robie. “Seein’ as how I never thought I’d see you again.”

“How’s Ty?”

“He’s with some friends right now. People he knows. People he feels safe with.”

“But he’s coming back, right?” said Robie.

“I’m not abandonin’ my son,” replied Dan firmly.

As he said the words it was clear to Robie that the man was not simply talking about Tyler.

Robie said, “He saved my life, you know. If he hadn’t screamed when he did I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the drawing that Ty had done of him and Robie. Stick figures with a heart in between. “I’ve never had anything personal where I live. No photos, no mementos.” He held up the drawing. “But this one I’m framing.”

Dan smiled and nodded. “Ty spoke a few words to me and I almost fell over. But now he’s quiet again. The doctors said not to push it. He’s been through, well, through hell and back. He saw me... he saw what I did to his mother. Even though I had to... she was goin’ to... I’m not sure he’ll...”

Dan looked away, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes.

Robie could imagine what his father was thinking right now. Having to choose between his wife and sons. Under the circumstances it hadn’t been much of a choice, he knew. But that didn’t make it any easier. He hoped to God he was never faced with such a dilemma.

“How did you know where we were?” asked Robie.

His father’s head dropped. But with an effort he lifted it and gazed at his son. “There had been rumors about that shack on Clancy’s property. I mean from many years ago. One of the clients I represented on the oil platform case had been a migrant worker for several years. He told me some things that his child had said about that old shack. It wasn’t enough for an investigation, and I wasn’t a judge back then. But I never forgot about it. And somehow Henry Barksdale’s name came up as well. And in the ambulance you told me you suspected Barksdale was involved in this and you thought he might be at a location on Clancy’s old farm. I thought if Barksdale had taken Victoria and Ty somewhere, it might be to the old shack.”

Robie looked at him closely. “So you never suspected Victoria?”

Dan wouldn’t look at him now. “If you mean did I know that my wife was Laura Barksdale, no, I didn’t.” He hesitated. “But if you mean did I suspect that somethin’ was amiss, then, yes I did.”

“Why?” asked Reel.

“The Range Rover that night. You kept askin’ me if I was drivin’ it. I wasn’t. But...”

“But you thought she might have been? Even though she was supposed to be in Biloxi?”

“I know that sometimes Ty sleeps with Priscilla when they’re travelin’. If Ty did when they were in Biloxi, then Victoria had no alibi for Sherman Clancy’s murder. She could have easily driven back here, killed him, and gotten back to Biloxi before mornin’.”

“Victoria believed that Priscilla had concluded that same thing. It’s why she killed her. But why would you suspect her of killing Clancy in the first place?” asked Robie.

“I didn’t. I thought she might have been... cheatin’ on me with someone closer to her own age.”

“Did you believe she had been sleeping with Clancy? He’s hardly her own age.”

“I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t be sure. It’s why I threatened him. Things looked so fishy. And her story made no sense. She was drinkin’ with him? Why? But I never thought that she killed the man.”

“She planted the evidence against you at the crime scene. She wanted you to be arrested and convicted of the murder.”

“I know that now,” said Dan. “It’s just hard to process that the woman I had a child with...”

“But the Range Rover was seen near where Clancy was killed,” Robie pointed out. “They thought it was you driving but it was actually Victoria.”

“At first I thought the witnesses had to be mistaken. Or else they had seen Clancy’s Rover and not mine. I must’ve been asleep when she came back and took the truck. But I never put that together, principally because I did not know the woman I had married was... what she turned out to be.”

“But you showed up in time to save us. How?”

“I got there just as she was runnin’ into the woods. I followed her. I saw that she had a gun. Somethin’ was off, way off.”

“And when you saw her on the banks of the Pearl?”

“I heard the exchange between you two. I knew then what she had done. And what she was about to do.”

“You saved my life. There was nothing I could have done. Without you there, both Ty and I would be dead.”A long silence ensued until Dan slipped his glasses from his shirt pocket, put them on, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a picture. He looked down at it for a few moments and then slid it across to Robie.

Robie gazed down at it and saw a young man with a granite jaw and a flinty expression wearing the uniform of a United States Marine.

Dan said, “That was my father. Your grandfather, Adam Robie. I know you two never met and he’s been dead for years now, but that was him. In that picture he was just back from the Pacific. Fought the Japanese all the way across the biggest ocean in the world: Guadalcanal, Kwajalein, Guam, Iwo Jima, Okinawa. All hellish. All beyond human comprehension. His company suffered a seventy percent mortality rate. He was awarded pretty much every medal they gave out to a fightin’ man. Probably killed more men than he could remember, and saw more of his buddies die than he would ever care to recall. He came home, threw all the medals in a box, and never talked about the war. I only learned later from other people what’d he done. He was a braver soldier than I ever thought of bein’.”

Robie lifted his gaze from the photo. “Okay?” he said questioningly. “But what’s the point, Dad?”

“Look, son, he didn’t just throw his medals in that box. He threw himself . Or who he used to be, which was a simple farm boy from Arkansas who wanted to play baseball for the St. Louis Cardinals and marry his childhood sweetheart. He did neither. He just killed Japanese soldiers and then he came home, got married to another woman he didn’t love, because his sweetheart had married someone else, and they had me.”

“So what are you saying happened to him?” asked Robie.