J. Black - The Survivors Club

As usual, Tess played the role of an observer.

For a lawyer, Melinda Bayless was pretty straightforward. She used her hands a lot, long tapered fingers, beautifully manicured nails painted the same color as her blouse.

Melinda said, “He came on to Brayden. At first Daffy—that’s our friend, Daphne Morales, she’s also an attorney—at first she and I were envious.” Brushed a strand of hair back. “Well, not envious, exactly. But he was good-looking. When I was younger, that was the main criteria, but we’re all older now and good looks are great but they’re certainly not enough.”

Cheryl led her through the incident. Melinda described the first meeting with Barkman in great detail. “He was only interested in Brae.”

“What was his manner?”

“Other than that he zeroed in on her? He was confident. Overconfident, really. I’ve known a few colleagues like that—they think they’re the Young Guns. Cocky. But not over-the-top.”

She told them that Steve Barkman looked good but that he leaned in way too close to Brayden. “He violated her personal space. I noticed that right away. I hate that! It made me think of a cat playing with a mouse. And Brayden’s no mouse, believe me. A little mousey.” She added, “I know that sounds bitchy.”

“He was after her, big-time. I thought he was thinking he’d get laid. But we kind of joined ranks and after a while he got the message and left. It was like we all breathed a sigh of relief. It was that intense.” Then she described the second occasion, the next day. This time Barkman showed up early. “I saw him coming our way, and I thought, oh, no. We told him Brayden wasn’t coming, which was a lie.”

She described how Brayden spotted Barkman and took off.

“What did he do?”

“He went after her.”

“Brayden didn’t come back?”

“No. But she called twenty minutes later. She was freaked. She said he came up to her in the parking lot—said he basically accosted her. She said he tried to keep her from leaving.”

Outside on the street, Cheryl said to Tess, “She didn’t like Steve Barkman putting the moves on her, but I don’t see any there , there.” Cheryl shaded her eyes against the sun and squinted in the direction of the Dystel building, where Michael DeKoven worked. “I dunno, It seems too elaborate to me—even if someone kicked the stool out from under him and he crashed headfirst into the table—and believe me, he could have bounced off or landed in another way—then how did that piece of glass go right through one eye?”

Tess had no answer for that. But she did wonder: Why would Brayden lie about knowing Steve Barkman?

CHAPTER 36

Michael didn’t want to see anyone—except Martin. He called Martin first thing.

“So you want me to fly back?” Martin said. “ Now? ”

“Yes. I’ll pay for it.”

“I have a gig.”

“A gig? Or an audition?”

Michael knew that Martin was taking fewer and fewer modeling jobs, that he was trying to break into TV and the movies. In fact, he’d made noises about moving to LA.

“An audition,” Martin said.

“You can go to the audition, Martin, or you can come here and stay with me. I need comfort right now.”

“But I just got back.”

“Martin, I need to be able to depend on you.”

“But this part might be—”

“My goddamn brother died. I need you. I need a friend, Martin, I need my lover. If it isn’t you, it’ll be someone else. If you can’t do this for me now, when I’m in need, you won’t ever be coming back. Think about what that means.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Michael knew that Martin was thinking about all the clothes, the shoes, the renovations to his apartment—hell, the apartment itself. He was thinking of all the trips they’d made together—Milan, Florence, Paris, Berlin, Sydney.

Martin said, “Okay. Book me a flight, though, will you? It has to be first class.”

“You’re already booked.” Michael gave him the information.

After that Michael sat in the solarium and listened to music, mostly jazz. Jazz felt just disorderly enough. The music was all over the place, and so were his feelings. His mind ranged over his memories of Chad. But try as he might to summon up a picture of his little brother, he couldn’t quite see his face. Over the years, Chad had kind of …disappeared. Chad had always seemed to be swallowed up by this house. By the presence of their father, who dominated over everything and everyone.

Michael had changed out every piece of furniture, relaid the floors, even expanded the room, but his father still dominated this place.

He could move. But the truth was, if he moved, his father would win.

He wasn’t going to be driven off his land, he wasn’t going to give up the DeKoven homestead.

Maybe it was the music. His father liked jazz. He put on something frenetic—AC/DC.

Sang along with “Highway to Hell.”

Finally, his mind began to skip to other things.

Flying back from LA, he’d looked down at the Santa Anas, remembering his kill. Farley’s death was a triumph of logistics and planning. Elaborate, yes, but also rewarding. Michael had pitted his brainpower and his physical strength against a knotty problem. It had taken athletic prowess and toughness to carry out the mission. Dragging Farley up to the pool was no easy feat.

His sadness was beginning to creep away, replaced by satisfaction of the game he’d played with Peter Farley.

Chad had a good life. They’d let him live his lifestyle out there, never bothered him. Supported him.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it was that Chad’s death had been a random killing. Probably by an acquaintance. Someone on crystal meth or bath salts—something like that. They were all pretty doped up around there. Michael thought that a hippie or surfer dude could just as easily be former military, or could learn the chokehold he used from a book. There were all sorts of bad people in the world, and they had their obsessions. They had their own way of doing things. Michael had met a lot of them.

In fact, he was one of them.

CHAPTER 37

Danny was now the proud father of a baby girl. Elena was the most beautiful little girl in the world. He knew he was biased, but that didn’t alter the facts. Everything had changed, and really it had changed overnight. Now there was another human being here, with a personality he thought he could already see.

He felt as if his heart encompassed the whole world, and yet his gaze was brought down to a tiny little girl with tiny little fists and eyes squeezed shut. He knew he would fight to the death for her. This new little person he already loved beyond himself.

He tried to concentrate on his work—paperwork, which was endless in a sheriff’s detective’s job. He tried, but it was hard. Theresa was asleep, and although he wanted to wake her and share with her this great feeling, he knew she needed rest.

So when his phone buzzed, he got up quietly from her bedside and walked out into the hallway, where the sun threw down squares of brightness in the hospital corridor.

The readout said Pat Scofield, George Hanley’s daughter.

He wondered why she was calling now. Neither she nor her husband had made a peep since the day Danny and Tess had delivered the news. Not one phone call. Pat Scofield had answered his questions dutifully over the phone, as if she didn’t care.

He answered.

He heard the edge to her voice right away.

She talked quickly—scared. “I’m sure I just saw my brother-in-law drive by the house,” she whispered.