Eden in Winter (41 page)

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Authors: Richard North Patterson

BOOK: Eden in Winter
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Unlike with Carla, Adam had no compunction about lying, and every need to do so. ‘That I know more than I do, I suppose. Which is no more than you do.’

He did not look at his brother, who must suspect that he was dissembling, or at Jack, the reason for it. ‘Then why,’ his mother persisted, ‘is this reporter still poking around us? These vermin are too afraid of being sued to simply make things up.’

‘I don’t read the minds of vermin, Mother. All I know is not to feed them. We’ve all said our piece, and it’s time to let this story die.’

‘But it
won’t
die, will it? Not when your affair with Carla Pacelli is keeping the story alive in the most distasteful of ways.’

Wherever he turned, Adam thought, Ferris had secreted her poison. ‘Sorry,’ he said tonelessly. ‘Selfish of me to think I could live my own life.’

‘Ben’s life,’ his mother snapped. ‘Ms Pacelli has a gift for seducing the nearest Blaine—’

‘Even me,’ Teddy cut in, facing his mother. ‘I visit her now and then, and, as the only gay Blaine, I’m uniquely positioned to be objective. And she’s a far better woman than you imagine.’ Unfazed by his mother’s annoyance, Teddy went on. ‘What part of the article don’t you believe, by the way?
That Adam saved your inheritance so he could sleep with Carla? Or that he’s covering up my murder of dear old Dad. Because you don’t get to pick and choose between one accusation and another.’

At the corner of his vision, Adam saw Jack glance at him in uncomfortable complicity. Tartly, Clarice asked the others, ‘Is there really a question that this woman slept with my husband and son? Or have I gone insane?’

‘You haven’t,’ Adam said. ‘And neither have I. Best to leave it there. Amanda Ferris and George Hanley are the enemy, not me. So if we’re done here, I’m going for a sail.’

It was a lesson from Ben – at the worst moments of his life, he sought out solace on the water, alone. But when Adam stood to leave, Teddy followed him out the door.

‘Thanks for the intervention,’ Adam said over his shoulder. ‘For a brief, unfilial moment, I considered strangling her instead of Ferris. One dead parent is enough.’

‘At least it was the right one.’ Teddy placed a hand on Adam’s arm, to stop him. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening, bro. But something is closing in on you.’

‘Don’t sweat it, Ted. I know what I’m doing, pretty much all the time.’

‘Not when you’re watching out for all the rest of us.’ Teddy’s face furrowed with concern. ‘How is Carla handling this?’

‘Let’s just say it isn’t helpful.’

‘How can it be?’ Teddy responded. ‘The portrait this viper paints of Carla is pretty wounding – the kind of thing people remember and she’d never want Liam to read. And she can’t help but wonder if you’re covering for your homicidal brother. All she’s got left is to protect her boy.’

Hands in his pockets, Adam gazed out at the water, voice
filled with sorrow and regret. ‘Last summer I thought it would end there, with the four of us making peace as best we could. But now I can see the damage I’ve done by reaching out for Carla and Liam. That’s my legacy, it seems.’

*

When Adam arrived home, George Hanley and two state troopers were waiting on the porch. Coolly, Adam said, ‘Afternoon, George. Can I get you guys a beer?’

The bulky district attorney regarded him with the bleak appraisal of a recording angel pondering a dead man’s fate. ‘I don’t suppose you’d mind if we search the place?’

‘I don’t suppose, ‘Adam responded mildly, ‘that you have a search warrant?’

‘Nope.’

‘I didn’t think so – no sane court would find probable cause for one. So you’re counting on my good nature.’

‘That,’ Hanley said in an astringent tone, ‘and your pristine conscience.’

Adam made a swift calculation. ‘Search away, George – as long as you tell me what you’re looking for. I always like to know what I’ve been up to.’

Hanley shrugged. ‘Might want to confiscate your cell phone and computer.’

This was what Adam expected – he had used a cell phone to photograph documents in the courthouse, a computer to print them out. Both had been issued by the agency, and were therefore untraceable; both now resided at the bottom of the Vineyard Sound. ‘I do mind
that
. What on earth do you need them for?’

Regarding Adam with amiable suspicion, Hanley rejoined, ‘I’m sure you know. Activity on a cell phone will pretty much
tell you where the owner was – it’s linked with the nearest cell tower. But there’s a particular twelve-hour time span last summer where your cell phone records show no activity at all.’

Adam smiled. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense. Those twelve hours must coincide with the break-in, so you’re wondering if I have a second phone. Fortunately, I’ve figured out my whereabouts that night. Would it spoil things to tell you I was fishing off of Dogfish Bar? Striped bass don’t respond to phone calls.’

‘Nope. It wouldn’t spoil things at all.’

Adam gave a sigh of resignation. ‘Go ahead – take any cell phone or laptop you can find. Just let me visit them in a couple of days, so I can transfer my files to a new computer. Unless you decide to give them back.’

Adam saw the defeat surface in Hanley’s eyes – and, with it, the understanding of what Adam had surely done. That much was foreordained. What unsettled Adam much more was that Hanley still persisted, spurred by Amanda Ferris. The medical examiner’s inquest showed no sign of ending, and it had already damned any future with Carla.

‘I’ll do that,’ Hanley responded, and went inside to direct the search.

SEVEN

By the first of March, the Vineyard winter had proven itself unseasonably mild. Adam and Charlie Glazer sat on Charlie’s porch, the sunlight warm enough that both men wore light sweaters. As Adam described Carla’s account of her relationship with Ben, Charlie listened so intently that he became completely still. ‘She really put it on the table,’ the therapist observed. ‘Sex with Ben, her feelings about you. How did all that make you feel?’

Adam fell quiet, sorting through his emotions. ‘After a while, I was relieved. It made what happened with Ben seem less important than what was happening with us. It felt better to have everything in the open …’

Hearing himself, Adam felt his own entrapment. ‘And you?’ Charlie asked.

‘She’s who I want, Charlie. More than I’ve wanted anything in my life.’

‘I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear that from you,’ Charlie replied gently. ‘Somehow it makes my own life feel a little more
worthwhile.’ He sat back, reflective. ‘Freud said that there are certain places where analysis is of limited value. Sometimes you meet a woman, and just know that she’s your species – different from all the others. Mine was Rose. For you, that woman is Carla, and maybe you’ve always known it. It seems like she’s faced the worst about herself, and come out stronger. Now she’s trying to take you by the hand.’

Adam stood and walked to the edge of Charlie’s porch, both hands on the railing as he gazed at the Vineyard Sound. ‘She was. But it’s too late, Charlie.’

There was a long silence. In a quieter tone, Charlie asked, ‘Is this about Ben’s death?’

‘Yes.’ As completely as he could, Adam described his interactions with George Hanley and Amanda Ferris – the prosecutor’s suspicions; his refusal to answer Hanley’s questions; the search of his home; Ferris’s article distorting his relationship with Carla. ‘Hanley’s measuring me for prison wear,’ he concluded, ‘and all I can do is ask Carla to trust me. After this last article, I don’t see how she can. Or why she should.’

Charlie regarded him gravely. ‘Have you considered taking a chance, and telling her what you did?’

‘I can’t. This isn’t just about what I
did
, but what I know.’

Squinting at the floorboards, Charlie considered this before looking back at Adam, his gaze fixed, his voice soft. ‘I’ve always wondered if Ben was murdered.’

Adam met the therapist’s eyes, silence his only answer.

‘I see.’

Adam’s stomach felt empty. ‘I can’t put someone else’s life in Carla’s hands – for their sake, or for hers. Even if I could, how can I start a relationship by making her complicit in
the death of her child’s father? We’d be living with this albatross, and she’d always worry that Liam would find out. The truth would ruin us, and so does lying.’ He paused, mired in his own helplessness. ‘Yesterday, facing Carla, all I wanted was to get off the earth somehow. I never should have let myself care for her. But like a fool, I did.’

‘Like a human being,’ Charlie countered. ‘At last.’

‘But it doesn’t matter, doesn’t it? I’m still living in compartments, each with its own lies and deceptions – all tied to how Ben died, and what I know but can never say. Especially to Carla. There’s no way out for me.’

Charlie frowned in thought. ‘Isn’t there?’ he enquired slowly. ‘Have you considered telling George Hanley what you know, and let whoever you’re protecting take the punishment they deserve? Why should you take it for them?’

Because Jack’s my father
, Adam wanted to say,
and I can’t live with putting him in prison for the rest of his life
. Crossing the porch, he put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. ‘You’ve done all you can,’ Adam said softly. ‘I only wish I could have helped you.’

*

Jack found him at the mooring on Quitsa Pond, gazing out at the trim sailboat in which, ten years before, Ben had striven to defeat Adam for the prize he had won so many times. But, in the end, all three men had lost. The story of their family.

Silent, Adam looked up at Jack. For so many years, he had loved this man as an uncle. Now he was a burden and a curse. His only wish was that Jack would disappear.

Instead, Jack sat beside him, his face appearing worn and tired. ‘I thought I might find you here.’

Adam still said nothing. Awkwardly, Jack placed a hand on his arm. ‘I was watching you the other day, after that article came out. Instead of gratitude, all I felt was shame.’

And now, here you are
, Adam thought,
awash in self-pity
. In a monotone, he said, ‘I don’t need the second emotion any more than I need the first. It’s done.’

Jack withdrew his hand, sharing Adam’s silence. After a time, he said, ‘You’re in love with Carla Pacelli, aren’t you?’

Adam felt his temper fraying. ‘It hardly matters.’

‘It does to me,’ his father persisted. ‘Your mother and I went through life apart. She thought she was protecting you. But it distorted everyone’s lives. Now you’re protecting
me
, and it’s distorting your life – and Carla’s.’ His quiet tone held bitterness and regret. ‘What did my life add up to? And who is better off for my existence?’

At last Adam turned to face him. ‘Don’t come to me for answers, Jack. Or for absolution. I’m not qualified.’

The implicit rebuke caused Jack to wince. ‘I’m your father, Adam. There must be something I can do.’

But there was nothing that could repair the damage stemming from his birth, seeping endlessly into the future. The last line of
The Great Gatsby
, once his favourite, came back to Adam again: ‘So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’

Perhaps Jack read this in his face. Without saying more, he stood and walked slowly back down the catwalk.

EIGHT

Carla sat on the deck with Liam, enjoying the sunny, mild morning. Face down on a blanket, the baby was making crawling motions, floundering on his stomach like a man trying to swim in quicksand. Watching this, she remarked, ‘No point in being an overachiever, Liam. I refuse to be a pushy mother. You’ll get the hang of crawling soon enough.’

At once she became aware of a man approaching – Jack Blaine, she realized with discomfort and surprise. Faintly smiling at her son, he observed, ‘I used to see Adam like that, and wish that I could stay with him for hours. But I couldn’t.’

Carla felt a jarring intimacy – though they had never spoken, Jack knew that she shared the secret of Adam’s paternity. ‘And I never thought I’d have one,’ she responded. ‘Like any baby, Liam takes his existence for granted. He’ll never know what joy he brought me just by showing up.’

Jack nodded his understanding, and then his long face became grave. ‘Do you mind if I sit? There’s something I need to talk with you about.’

Carla inclined her head toward the empty Adirondack chair. Sitting, Jack gazed out at the water, less to admire the view, she sensed, than to marshal his resolve. ‘There’s no easy place to begin this,’ he said at length. ‘But Adam is carrying something he can’t tell you, and I don’t think he can ever escape it.’

Feeling a terrible premonition, Carla forced herself to say, ‘This is about Ben’s death, isn’t it?’

‘It is,’ Jack answered, his tone reflective, almost wondering. ‘How many times have I passed that promontory since the night he died? I passed it again today. The memory is always the same, always shattering. Yet I keep on living as I have, doing all the things any man would do.’ He faced her, seeming to force the words out. ‘I lied at the medical examiner’s inquest. Adam is paying the price.’

A chill ran through her. ‘What happened that night?’

Jack hunched in his chair. ‘Ben threatened Clarice with a change in the will, giving pretty much everything to you. I went to confront him. He was at the promontory, admiring the sunset, no doubt on his way to see you. When I found him, years of hatred consumed us both.’ His voice thickened. ‘He ridiculed me, as he had countless times before. He’d already changed the will, he said. When I grabbed the front of his shirt, filled with rage, Ben told me that Clarice would be looking for a rich man by Thanksgiving.

‘I lost control, forcing him to the edge of the cliff. “I could kill you,” I told him. “I’ve wanted to for years.” But Ben was utterly calm. “You’re a loser,” he answered. “And you’re about to lose again.”’

Stricken, Carla imagined the scene. ‘And so you pushed him.’

Looking away, Jack said, ‘I held his face an inch from mine. “Do you think that I can’t do this?” I demanded. Then he gave me that smile of complete disdain, and spat in my face.’ In profile, Jack seemed to flinch. ‘I stared into his eyes, and suddenly felt my hands let go. For a split second I was so blinded by hate that it didn’t feel like murder. But as soon as he vanished into the darkness, I knew exactly what I’d done.’

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