Every Last Fear(45)

“I hear you’re getting a promotion,” Liv said.

He gave a knowing half smile. “If I’d known you were coming to town,” Noah said, “I would’ve taken you to lunch. Or—”

“It was last minute,” Liv said. “My dad…”

“Oh no, I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s fine. About to be evicted from his retirement home, but fine.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He’s been giving the staff hell.”

Noah chuckled. “I’d expect nothing less from Charlie. He gave me my share of hell back in the day.”

Liv smiled.

“I’m really glad you stopped by,” Noah said. “I thought after last time…” He trailed off.

“I’m sorry about that. I was in a bad place.”

“No, I should apologize.”

“How about we both just start again?”

“I’d like that,” Noah said. After a moment he added, “I saw the Supreme Court denied the appeal.”

Liv nodded.

“And you heard I may be appointed governor, and want to see if I can help with the pardon process.…”

“Oh, Noah, no,” Liv said. “Well, strike that—yes, of course I’d want help, but that’s not why I came.”

“No?”

“I came for a different favor.”

Noah smiled. His teeth seemed whiter, straighter than before. Porcelain veneers, she thought. Whatever it was, he had improved with age. Time unfairly favored those with the Y chromosome.

“My sister and the director of the nursing home hatched something up. Thought the soon-to-be governor may be able to cut through some red tape on some of the company’s licensing problems, and they’d be willing to look past some of my father’s, um, behavior problems.”

“Ah, Dennis Chang put you up to this.”

“I normally wouldn’t ask, but they’re going to kick my dad out. We don’t have any other options. And—”

“Okay,” he said. “Done.”

Liv didn’t understand. “What do you mean? You think you can help?”

“No, I mean it’s done,” Noah said. “After he struck out with Turner, Chang has been on me for months about the licensing issues. They want to open more facilities, and they’ve been in limbo.”

“So, really? That’s it?”

“Really. Go back. Tell him he’ll get good news by the end of next week. But only if he guarantees your father has life tenure.”

“But what if— Are you sure this is legal? I don’t want to get you in any trouble.”

“Trust me. Just tell him life tenure for your dad and he’ll get good news by the end of next week. If he says no, you’ll have to figure it out, since he’s getting the good news either way. The license thing was cleared two days ago.” He flashed a smile.

“This is amazing. You don’t know what a relief—I can’t thank you enough for letting me know.”

“Yes, you can.”

Liv gave him a look.

“I’m meeting Kyle and his partner at Vincenzo’s tomorrow night for dinner. Join us,” he said.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve got Tommy with me, and I haven’t spent any time with Cindy, and we leave on Sunday and—”

“Bring them,” he said.

“I’ll need to talk to Cindy.”

“Tell you what, Livie,” Noah said, walking to his desk. He picked up a pen and wrote something on a piece of paper. “Here’s my cell number. Talk to Cindy and if you can make it, just let me know. I’d love to catch up.”

“I have your number,” Liv said.

“I had to change it after the documentary came out,” he said.

“Your adoring fans,” Liv replied.

“They’re not all fans,” he said.

Liv examined the paper. It was his official stationery: thick stock with Noah’s name and the state seal at the top. It hadn’t changed in seven years. Not since that morning he’d left her the note on the hotel room pillow, saying that he had to get home early to deal with the fallout from his son’s house party—the one that eventually sent her son to prison.





CHAPTER 29


MATT PINE

Matt awoke to a tap on his shoulder. He sat up quickly, squinting at the bright sun, confused for a second, but then remembering he’d slept on the beach. Before him was a young Mexican man wearing a white polo shirt and tan shorts. Other similarly dressed men were setting up umbrellas, unfolding chairs, and raking the sand. Matt looked toward the ocean. It was early and only a few people were on the beach. A couple with two young kids walked the shore, searching for shells, running from the waves.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this area is for guests only,” the man said.

“I am a guest.” Matt stood, brushed himself off, and walked toward the footpath that led to the hotel, hoping the guy wouldn’t call his bluff. He continued through the back door of the lobby, his damp sneakers squeaking as he made his way to the entrance of the facility. Out front, a bellhop hailed him a cab to the police station.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the station house. Matt took a deep breath before walking through the front door, which was propped open with a brick.