Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(91)

He gentled his voice. “You were too young to understand. He would have told you when you’d gotten older, you know that.”

He was right, of course. She had to try to get it together, get over her anger at her father’s charade. Rebekah tried for a smile and was vaguely surprised when a real one appeared. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be angry at him. He did his best by me. But what’s wonderful about all this is none of that vicious old witch’s blood flows in my veins. I’m free of her now, no more wondering why she always seemed to hate me, no more feeling guilty because I wondered what I’d done wrong.

“But Rich, how do I reconcile having a father who wouldn’t claim me as his own child?” She shook her head. “I’m getting angry at him again. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, Rebekah. This is a tremendous shock to you. It is to me, too. Did Gemma tell you who your real mother is?”

“No, I still don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful mother. Caitlin loved me always. I never doubted it. What she did, when she was still so young, it was a sacrifice for me. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to suddenly be her sister’s mother, to raise me all those years as her child without ever telling me. I thought about calling her in Spain right away, but I wanted to get my head together before I spoke with her. It’s late there now, but I’ll call her in the morning.” Rebekah sighed. “We have a great deal to talk about, honestly now, for the first time as who we really are—sisters.”

“I think it would be best if we kept this between us, not even tell my sons, particularly not my sons. Can you imagine what would happen if the media got hold of it? Beck might post it on Twitter, and even if Tucker kept his mouth shut, Celeste would trumpet it to the world.”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. You’re right, of course.”

“You haven’t eaten much,” Rich said, eyeing her plate. “And no wonder. Tell you what, if you’re through, let’s take our coffee in the living room. We can talk it all out.”

She rose as Rich walked to her. He looked down at her a moment, then pulled her close and kissed her hair. “We’ll figure our way through all this, don’t worry. I want to know everything that happened today with Gemma. I only hope the new girlfriend doesn’t boot Beck out early.”

The living room draperies were closed against the night, the room warm and cozy. Rich built up the fire and walked back to sit beside her on the sofa. He kissed her, lightly ran his fingers down her smooth cheek. “I thought about you all afternoon, wishing I could call you.” He studied her face. “Tell me what else Gemma had to say. Did she admit to anything?”

Rebekah couldn’t settle. She stood, walked to the fireplace, stared down at the flames a moment, turned back, and told Rich everything. “And Agent Savich called me, told me Duvall really doesn’t want to go down for this, wants to tell him who hired him, but he doesn’t know. It was all done over the phone and in cash. Man, woman? He didn’t know, only that it was a scratchy, low voice. He wanted Savich to cut him a break for his honesty. So as it stands now, there isn’t enough proof Gemma was involved, and she, of course, knows it.”

Rich rose, took her hands, lightly stroked her fingers. “You know, Rebekah, I feel I’ve been of very little help to you so far. I’ve been busy, I know, but it’s more than that. You’ve been shutting me out. I want to be a bigger part of helping you find your way through all this.”

She felt a wave of guilt. “I never meant to shut you out, Rich. Everything’s happened so fast. Zoltan, the attempted kidnapping, the showdown with Gemma, and you said you’d be comfortable leaving things to the FBI. And it’s true, you have been busy.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t let me off the hook. I should have been beside you more through all of this. I sure didn’t help when I came home to find you and Agent Hammersmith alone in the bedroom reading your grandfather’s letters. That threw me, something I’m not proud of. I’m still embarrassed about the way I acted. But, Rebekah, you never even mentioned you had letters from your grandfather, and we’ve talked about him quite a bit. I knew him, too, not in the same way you did, of course, but still, in a way, he was part of what brought us together at first. I guess you could say he was our common root. I know how very important he was to you, so please, don’t cut me out any longer. Let me help. Talk to me about your father.”

She looked into the eyes of the man she’d fallen in love with, her husband of six months now, her life partner. She said slowly, “I never intended to cut you out, Rich. But you see, there were things my father asked me to keep secret, and I kept those secrets for over twenty years.” She smiled up at him. “It seems silly not to tell you all about it now, about the poem. I already told it to Agent Savich.” She didn’t add in Agent Sherlock or Kit. He wouldn’t understand.

“Poem? What poem?”

“A poem my father had me memorize when I was young, made me swear never to tell anyone else. It’s part of the Big Take story I told you about after those men attacked me, the one Zoltan wanted me to talk about, the story she thought was real.” She looked at him and said in a flat, singsong voice:

Don’t let them know it’s hidden inside