The Last Thing She Ever Did(66)

“That’s all right,” he said, though he didn’t mean it. He pulled a paper towel from the dispenser behind her and dabbed at the streak of tears she’d left behind.

“I’m worried about Liz,” she said. “She’s hurting pretty bad.”

“I know,” he said. “We all are, Carole. We’ll just have to continue to keep Charlie in our prayers and know that he’ll be found. He’ll be safe.”

“You really think so?” she asked.

Owen patted her once more. “Yes,” he said. “I know it in my bones.”

“Thank you, Owen. Thank you so much.”



Owen turned the engine over and sat in his car. He gulped in some air and tried to keep his cool. He gripped the wheel of his soon-to-be-ditched Forester. A stranglehold. He looked at his white knuckles and thought of his father again. Goddamn him! His old man never respected anything that you couldn’t see or touch. So literal. Always so sure that he was right and Owen was wrong.

Jesus! What did I do to deserve these people in my life?

He took in more air and started for the office. Things were spinning dangerously. He’d expected Charlie to be found within days. It had been two weeks! And he certainly hadn’t expected Carole would move in with them. Liz was fragile as hell as it was. Her fragility had made the situation escalate. He’d done things he’d never thought he could do and now he was on the cusp of everything that had ever mattered to him.

Charlie.

The devastation resulting from the boy’s disappearance was a festering open sore. Carole and Liz were saltshakers dumping their worries and sadness onto him when he needed to focus on what was really important. Charlie was gone. End of story. Owen’s life was just beginning. He needed to be on. As much as he admired Damon’s intelligence and knew that Lumatyx would never have happened without him, Owen was getting the distinct feeling that his partner believed he had the leading role in its success. Sure, he was always effusive about the partnership that had led to the development of the product. Still, there were signs that he viewed his role as more important than Owen’s.

“Without code you have nothing,” Damon had told a Wall Street Journal reporter who was doing a story about the emergence of Bend as a new high-tech center. “Ideas are great, but at Lumatyx our achievement is building a tool that actually delivers on promises.”

Owen was in the conference room during that interview and inserted himself in the conversation, but it was awkward.

Later he asked Damon about it. “Man, it felt like you were taking total credit for what we’ve done here.”

Damon blinked his big brown eyes. “Not at all. Just giving the reporter a story. Fanning the flames. Getting the VC community to consider our intellectual property as the value driver here, Owen. That’s all.”

Owen didn’t buy it.

As he drove to the office, he thought about what he’d done to the little boy next door and how easily he’d been able to put it all behind him. It was like the affirmation cards he’d used in college to get him through a tough exam. Visualizing a goal was the way to make something happen.

It was eight thirty when Owen arrived. Paula at the front desk looked as if she were going to burst with excitement. An enormous bunch of calla lilies in a clear cylinder vase dwarfed her. “Look what they sent us,” she said. “They must really like us.”

“Boston?”

She nodded. “I’ve never seen a bigger bouquet. Must have cost more than two hundred dollars!”

“I’ll bet,” Owen said.

“You look great, Mr. Jarrett,” she said.

Owen feigned an appreciative smile and looked past the receptionist to Damon’s office down the sandblasted brick corridor. The lights were off and the door was shut.

“Damon’s not in?”

The young woman peered up from behind the wall of flowers. “No,” she answered. “He’s at the early breakfast meeting. I thought you just came from there.”

Owen didn’t know a thing about any meeting. The agenda for the visit had been planned weeks in advance. The venture capital team would arrive around noon, sign the agreement, and chat with various employees. A celebratory dinner at Sweetwater would conclude the day.

“No,” he said, trying not to give in to a display of sudden fury. “Had some things at home I had to do this morning. Buzz me when Damon gets in, all right?”

She promised to do just that.

When Owen got to his office, he texted Damon right away:

WTF? What meeting?

Damon answered a minute later:

No biggie. Asked for reco of a breakfast place. Told them Chow and they asked me to join them. See you in a few. Great guys. You’ll love them.

Owen swiveled in his chair and looked out the window at the street below. Everything he believed about Damon was probably true. His old pal and business partner was a backstabber. Damon was going to make sure that he was first in line to get whatever he could. He was a selfish, egotistical prick.

There was no way that Owen would be cut out of what he knew rightfully belonged to him. He turned on his laptop and checked Damon’s calendar for the morning. His face went red with anger.

7:30?9:00—Private appointment.

He sat there and seethed.

So this is how it’s going to be. Seriously?