Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(72)

“You said your daughter—Caitlin—disappointed you. What did I do to disappoint you, Grandmother? I wasn’t old enough to sleep around, and I never rebelled, not with Grandfather there to guide and love me. After the strokes, when he fell into a coma, I was focused on him.” She searched her grandmother’s cold face, and the words poured out. “Why do you hate me? Why have you always hated me?”

The words sat stark in the cold silence.

“Hate you?” Gemma gave a contemptuous laugh. She waved her hand at Rebekah’s face. “I don’t hate you. Hating you would mean I spend time thinking about you, which I don’t. You are not and never were important. You were always simply there, to be endured.”

Griffin saw the devastation on Rebekah’s face, watched her absorb the blow. Then he saw anger and realized this moment had been coming for a very long time. He held perfectly silent and waited to see what Rebekah would do. She said slowly, “When I was a child, I always looked at you like some powerful being who occasionally came into the room when I was there. You rarely spoke to me or even acknowledged me in any way. It was as if I didn’t exist. I’ve never understood your dislike of me. Why? Were you punishing Grandfather for stepping up and being a father to me? Were you jealous he gave me affection?”

Gemma sat down again, turned her chair, and said to the bank of large windows, “No, I have never liked you, Rebekah, but I was not jealous of you. My reasons are my own. Did you come here to accuse me of ignoring your grandfather during those endless sixteen years he lay there, a husk with a faint heartbeat, nothing more? If so, you may leave. Nothing between your grandfather and me was ever any of your business.” She rose. “I’ve told you Nate’s death was an accident. Is there anything else?”

Rebekah said, “You’ve told me nothing.”

Griffin said, “Mrs. Clarkson, do you still visit mediums? Have you tried to reach your husband, for example?”

Gemma slowly sat down again. “No, I have nothing to say to him. If you must know, our marriage became more of a business partnership as the years passed. In fact, even if he hadn’t been in a coma, I doubt he would have cared if I visited him or not.”

Griffin decided to tell her all of it, about Zoltan claiming Rebekah’s grandfather had come to her, about her séance where John Clarkson supposedly appeared and spoke of Nate Elderby and their Big Take. Gemma didn’t interrupt, merely sat there, listening. When he finished, she said, “That is a remarkable story.” She turned to Rebekah. “So you actually spoke to your grandfather?”

Rebekah shook her head. “If I’d been inclined to believe in the dead returning to talk to loved ones, I’d have believed her. She’s an excellent researcher and entertainer.”

Griffin said, “Did you know Zoltan has gone missing? There was blood in her living room. It appears someone after this money thought Zoltan not only failed in her assignment, but she’d also become a risk.”

Gemma said, “You obviously believe Nate and my husband planned and stole this money together. You probably also believe my husband murdered Nate because of this stolen money, to which I say, it is impossible. Now, Nate gloried in not-guilty verdicts, even for criminals at trial, but his biggest flaw? He was a liar. He had no loyalty, not to me, not to your grandfather. Tell me, Rebekah, what does your husband think of this extraordinary story you’ve concocted?”

Rebekah said, “Rich is upset. He loves me and doesn’t want to see me hurt.”

Griffin said, “Mrs. Clarkson, you said your husband never mentioned any of this to you?”

“Of course not.” Gemma’s phone buzzed. She picked up, said, “Yes, send Mr. Neilly in.” She rose. “I expect I won’t see you again, Rebekah.”

“And you don’t want to, do you, Grandmother?”

“Any more than you want to see me.”

Rebekah rose slowly to face her grandmother across her big mahogany desk. “Do you really think Nate’s death was an accident?”

“Of course it was an accident. Your precious grandfather was many things, but he wasn’t a murderer.” She looked over at the trio of old Dutch countryside paintings against the light gray wall. “Your grandfather loved Nate. Perhaps as much as he loved you. As for any stolen money—what you’re calling this Big Take—I suppose your grandfather could have stolen it. He had what I call flexible ethics.” Her face stiffened. “Unlike Nate, who, as I said, had no ethics at all. Now, you’ve put on quite a show for Agent Hammersmith. Are we finally done here?”

Rebekah nodded. “Thank you for seeing us.” She and Griffin walked to the door, her heels sinking into the gray carpeting.

Rebekah turned back to face her grandmother. “Do you know what I told Zoltan? If there is such a thing as the Big Take, I intend to let the money rot for eternity. As you said, I don’t need it, and the last thing I’d ever do is harm Grandfather’s legacy.”

They didn’t speak until they were in Griffin’s black Range Rover. He turned to her. “How do you feel?”

She fiddled with her seat belt, her hands trembling. Then she turned to him and smiled. “I still don’t know why she dislikes me so much, but I finally said what I needed to. Sorry we couldn’t get much out of her.”

Griffin started the Range Rover. “I’m not so sure about that,” he said. “Your seat belt still isn’t fastened.”