Mean Streak(74)
“How could I possibly miss it? You practically spelled it out in capital letters on the wall. And it’s quite a story. However, how it relates to me, I don’t have a clue.”
“Want me to spell that out, too?”
“If you think I’m guilty of something, then why don’t you arrest me?”
“I don’t want to arrest you.”
“Then what excuse do you have for hiding in the bushes last night and all day today, keeping track of my every move?”
“I don’t enjoy spying on you.”
“Then stop.”
“I will. Tell me where he is and—”
“I don’t know.”
“Rebecca—”
“Grace.”
“Whatever,” he said, raising his voice to match hers. “Do you expect me to believe that you haven’t had any contact with him in four years?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I don’t know where he is, and I don’t.”
“So you do have some contact with him. How often? Once a year, every other month, twice a week? How does he get in touch?”
She stuck out her hands, palms down. “Get out your bamboo shoots. Or does waterboarding work better?”
Frustrated, Jack got up and rounded his chair, placing his hands on the back of it as he leaned into it. He stared her down, or tried. She had the same ability to look through a person that her brother did. Turning away, he muttered, “Goddamn family trait.”
“What?”
“Your eyes.”
“You’re not the first to remark on that. When we were kids—” She bit off what she was going to say.
Jack stepped around the chair and sat down again. “When you were kids, what?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. Tell me something I don’t know. One grain of information.”
“Mom made pot roast every Sunday.”
“Everybody’s mom makes pot roast on Sunday. Tell me something about him.”
“You already know everything.”
“Surprise me with something.”
“He actually likes squash. Or did. I suppose he still does.”
Jack watched as, in spite of herself, her thoughts turned to times past. Happier times. In a poignant tone of voice, she said, “He was always protective of me. I’m two years younger, and he took the big brother role seriously. For as far back as I can remember, he watched out for me. He wouldn’t let anyone pick on me.”
“With him as your bodyguard, it would take a real dumb bully to mess with you.”
“I stood up for myself, too.”
He grinned. “I bet you did. How exactly?”
“I told all the bullies to f*ck off.”
He’d walked right into that one, and he supposed that to some extent he had it coming. Grin dissolving, he turned his head toward the window; it was like looking through a waterfall. He watched rivulets of rainwater charting their inevitable course down the glass.
Coming back to her, he said quietly, “I’m not trying to bully you, Rebecca. I would if I thought it would do any good, but I don’t think even bamboo shoots would get out of you where he is.”
“They wouldn’t, because I don’t know.”
“Think of the victims’ loved ones.” This was hitting below the belt, but he would use any device he could. “They stay in touch with me, you know. E-mails. Phone calls. Heart-wrenching shit, and I know you’re not flinching because of the expletive. You know those people want and deserve—”
“Stop!”
She was off the sofa like a flash, streaking with the swift grace of a black cat out of the room. He knew she’d opened the front door because he felt a gust of damp air. Reluctantly, he got up and followed her into the foyer. She was holding the front door open, staring down at the floor between her bare feet, her posture rigid.
When he reached her, she raised her head, glaring with those crystalline eyes. “I’ve made a good life for Sarah and me here. But I would abandon it all in a flash. I would disappear again. Keep pestering me, and I will. You know I can.”
“And you know that I’ll keep looking for him until I find him.”
“Waste of time. He’ll never let himself be found.”
“Are you sure? Have you ever thought that it might be a relief to him?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Come now. Next you’ll be telling me that it would be the best thing for him.”
“Wouldn’t it?”
She didn’t maintain her defiant gaze for long before turning her head aside. Seeing a tiny chink in her armor, he took advantage of it. “You know it would be best for him, Rebecca. It would be a hell of a lot better for you, too. You could stop worrying about me spying. You could use your legal name. Wouldn’t that be better for everybody?” He took a step closer to her and spoke with urgency. “Help yourself by helping me. Give me a hint, put me on a trail.”
“You’re asking me to betray my brother.”
“He’ll never know the information came from you. I swear that.” She was listening, so he pressed on. “You don’t want to abandon your pretty house here, leave your charming shop. And, even if you did, what about Sarah?”