Overkill(38)

“My source down there wasn’t on duty yesterday, so she didn’t learn about Mr. Bridger’s visit until today. She caught the scuttlebutt among the staff. She wasn’t free to share the information with me until late this afternoon when her shift ended.”

Eban was breathing hard, nostrils flaring. “What do you think his visit signifies?”

“Maybe nothing.”

“Or?”

“Or it might be a reaction to your early release and a prompting from a prosecutor.”

“Dad told me about this prosecutor. A woman. Kathryn something.”

“Lennon.”

“What do you know about her?”

“Only that she’s been in the AG’s office a little over a year and has a reputation for being sharp and aggressive.”

“That’s it?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Nowhere near enough.”

His hardened features and the coldness of his tone were discomfiting and a bit alarming to Upton. “Eban, please do yourself a service. Don’t blow off our advice about keeping a low profile. It was my duty to make you and Sid aware of what could come about, but I doubt very seriously that it will.”

Eban continued to glower at nothing for several seconds, then blinked Upton back into focus. His handsome features relaxed. He smiled and clapped Upton on the shoulder. “I’ve kept you up too long. You look tired, so I’m going to let you go night-night. Thanks for the drink.”

He quickly walked out and didn’t wait for Upton to see him off. He was already revving his car’s engine by the time Upton reached the front door. He watched until the taillights turned out of his drive. The car was symbolic of Eban’s excesses, to all of which he felt entitled.

Up felt abject remorse for having had a hand in the shaping of Eban’s character. He bore as much blame as Eban’s indulgent parents: He had approved and negotiated all the bribes that had swept the boy’s lifetime of misdeeds under the rug.

As he climbed the stairs to his bedroom, he submitted to the guilt, worry, and weariness that mantled him like chains.





Theo still resided in the townhouse village where he’d lived when Eban had left for prison. His unit was sandwiched between two others that were identical to his except for the color of their front doors.

Eban tapped the brass knocker on the cobalt blue door. Theo answered and, seeing Eban there, looked at him with puzzlement. “Eban?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” He hesitated, then said, “But come on in.”

“I believe I will.”

Eban walked into the main room, which had undergone a facelift during his absence. “I like the makeover. New?”

“Last year.”

Eban strolled over to the island that separated the living area from the kitchen, ran his hand along the marbled surface, and made a tsking sound. “Faux. I hope you weren’t rooked into paying for the real thing.”

Theo hadn’t moved far from the door where he stood, hands on hips. “You’re stoned.”

Eban grinned. “Stoned but not stingy.” He pulled a plastic pill bottle from his front pants pocket. “Mollies. Catch.”

He tossed the bottle to Theo, who caught it, then pitched it overhanded back to him. “No thanks.”

“I saw our friend Simply Simon the other night. He said he hadn’t seen you in a long, long time. Did you switch dealers, or what?”

“It’s late, Eban. I was on my way to bed. Let’s pick a night next week and meet for dinner. How ’bout it?”

Eban tapped his chin with his index finger. “You know what that sounded like? It sounded like a brush-off. A classic brush-off.”

Theo dropped his head forward and stared down at his bare feet—really ugly, bony feet. When he raised his head, he said, “Look, Eban, I’m glad you’re out. It’s good to see you. But I don’t do that shit anymore.” He indicated the plastic bottle that Eban was bouncing in his palm, rattling the tablets.

“Seriously? Did you have a bad experience with mind-altering drugs?”

Theo had always reminded Eban of Forrest Gump: endearingly naive and easily swayed. But right now, his scowl better resembled Cal’s disapproving expression at their recent dinner. “A bad experience?” he said. “Yes, wouldn’t you say we all had a bad experience?”

“Ohhh,” Eban drawled. You’re referring to…” He rapidly snapped his fingers. “The Pratt chick. The Cleopatra look-alike. I’m glad you brought her up. She’s the reason I came to see you tonight. Well, indirectly. Roundaboutly. Do you have anything to drink?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Okay, I can tell you’re pissy. You were on your way to bed. I showed up stoned.”

“I don’t mean to be—”

“No, no, I get it.” He patted the air with both hands. “I’ll hurry this along. Have a seat.”

Theo hesitated, then moved to a chair and sat down on the edge of the seat as though he didn’t intend to be there for long. Eban threw himself into the most comfortable chair in the room. Once he got settled, he told Theo what he’d learned from his dad. “I thought he’d gone senile on me, but Up confirmed it.”