His Devious Angel (17 page)

Liam couldn’t get out of the place fast enough once the arrangements had been settled. And he couldn’t believe his father had gone so far as to buy the puppy.

Back in the car, he questioned the self-satisfied guy sitting next to him.  “Why in the world did you actually give that asshole money? We agreed you would be making enquiries, nothing more.”

Paul’s discomfort showed as he squirmed and looked everywhere but at Liam. Finally he spoke. “When I was a lad, we always had dogs running around the place. But they terrified your mother, and she wouldn’t even discuss the possibility. Now I can go ahead and own a pet…and no doubt, the boy, Pedro, will enjoy having an extra playmate also. A win-win situation, right?”

Liam caught the self-satisfied smirk, and gladness filled him up and crowded out some of the blackness he couldn’t seem to shake. 

“Dad, do you mind if I stop for a minute and use your landline to update Stan, a friend with the Metropolitan Police? My cell phone is getting low; hopefully I’ll have enough juice to send the picture I took.  If I try and talk also, my battery will be dead.”

“Liam, you don’t need to ask me. This is your home…” He held his hand up to stop Liam from interrupting. “I know it’s my house. But, son, it was once and always will be your home.” The words seemed to choke him up, and he quickly got out of the car. “Come on in. I’ll organize some coffee while you make your calls. I noticed my cell phone is the same model as yours, so you can hook it up to my charger.”

Once seated, facing each other, they re-hashed the afternoon’s events and Liam brought his father up to date on what Stan had managed to uncover after Liam had sent him the information and photos from the night before.

“Seems these guys have kept a very low profile and like to pay others to do their dirty work for them. No questions asked when expensive, high-quality animals suddenly show up and become available for sale or for breeding purposes.”

“The rotters!” Paul hadn’t been a top-notch defense attorney without gaining a modicum of detachment, but Liam could literally see and feel his father’s wrath. It made them seem connected, and that felt good.

“Yeah! You said it. Stan’s been in touch with Washington’s Humane Law Enforcement Department. They have nothing on these guys. But he said they’re interested and would be more than willing to take the case to the U.S. Attorney’s office if we can get the goods on this operation.”

“That’s great news.”

 “I know. When I sent him the list of calls just now, he sounded quite excited. Then I stumped him with the news that they’re moving the animals from the farm tonight. Somehow we need to be there. He’s pretty sure their main puppy mill would be in Oklahoma and so has been focusing his attention on anything linking them with that state. Shipping papers, border info, anything he can get his hands on that might give them any clues.”

“If we only knew where the farm was located.” Paul scratched the side of his face, a gesture Liam found so familiar.

“That would solve a lot of our problems.” He knew it was the missing link, but right now they were whistling in the wind.

“Liam, remember when you stopped at the painting and Bradford said it was painted by Laura Schnell? She did move to New York recently, and he’s right, she’s become quite famous, her landscapes bring in top dollar. Anyway, I know he mentioned that it was property they used to own, but in case you didn’t pick it up, he hesitated and corrected what he’d been about to say. To me it was a glaring ‘tell’ that he lied. If your friend, Stan, was to get in touch with this woman and ask her directions to the place, maybe the deed on that property could prove ownership and, well…you never know.”

“I never thought about that—man, you are a genius!” Carried away by his enthusiasm, Liam added, “I’m proud to be your son.”

The old saying that “Silence could be cut with a knife” fit the moment perfectly. Emotions rose, and the atmosphere became tense. Finally Liam moved to grab the phone once again and call in the goods to Stan.

As if that spontaneous remark had opened a path never to be ignored again, Paul sat and waited. As soon as Liam had replaced the receiver, his father cleared his throat, the redness crawled up his neck.

“I can’t tell you how wonderful it’s been hanging out with you today, son.”

God, don’t do this to me. Not now!
Liam knew his expression had darkened. When he heard those words, he felt the lights go off inside, and like a raging avalanche that can’t be stopped, neither could his despair.

“Dad, I’d rather not talk about this now.” When he leapt to his feet, he knocked some books off the coffee table and automatically bent over to pick them up. For a few seconds, panic and nausea attacked and left him breathless. So much so that it was all he could do to throw himself back onto the sofa and clutch his head. Pain blasted inside, and how he didn’t pass out, he’d never know.

“Liam! What the hell’s going on with you? If it's the army, you can always quit and finish your law degree."

"It's not that. Leave it alone, Dad."

"I can't. I’ve been watching you all day, and you’re self-destructing. I’ve…I’ve had enough! Now you’re going to tell me what’s making you look like the devil is riding your coattails.”

A head-on collision took place in his brain, his overwhelming need against his want to not go there. He spit the words from his mouth as if they were rotten. “It’s the blasted nightmares. I can’t sleep, and food tastes like crap. The only time I can forget is when I’m busy, and so I never stop staying busy.”

“Something is behind this, Liam. It’s not normal for a guy to be suffering these symptoms. Have you talked to a doctor?”

“Sure. All they’ve done is give me drugs and refer me to a shrink.”

“What did the shrink say?”

“Didn’t go. Dad, I’m not crazy. It’s just I had to do some bad shit while overseas and it’s been…well…haunting me.”

“Like what kind of bad shit? Tell me, Liam. Don’t go getting that stubborn look and shut down on me now. Just blurt it out. Son, I love you. Nothing you say will make any difference as to how I feel about you. And keep in mind that I spent two horrific years in Viet Nam, so I probably have a good idea what happened to you in Iraq.”

Liam searched his dad’s features. He’d forgotten his dad had served. The topic had always proven uncomfortable and therefore had been ignored.  Searching, probing, his eyes digging, he stared into greenish-brown pools, replicas of his own, and they revealed adoration. Plain and simple, the man loved him. How could he have failed to remember? How could he have just put it out of his mind?

“I killed, Dad. Young guys, maybe family men, certainly someone’s sons who probably didn’t deserve to die any more than I did.”

“Then why did you kill them?”

He leapt up, leaned over the old man, anger blazing. “What do you mean, why?” Anger was evident in his threatening body language. But his dad didn’t even flinch. He looked at him steadily, kept eye contact.

Liam felt himself unwind, like a cable expected to stretch too far. He whipped around, shoving his clenched hands in his pockets.

“Shit! How could you ask me that?”

“Answer me, Liam. Why?”

Galvanized by fury, he screamed the words that had blocked his throat and his heart. “Because, for Christ sake, because I had no choice. It was kill them or let them kill my men.”

The words burst out fuelled by rage and colored by pain. His lips wobbled uncontrollably and tears globbed his eyes. He shook so hard he dropped onto the sofa and lowered his head into his hands. A sob escaped, forcing him to bite down hard on bloodied lips, but the next sob escaped, and so did the next.

Strange warmth engulfed him, easing the agony that loosened his control. He sensed Paul’s fatherly presence as if vibes of spiritual medication were being launched from the older man’s heart, soothing and so appreciated.

“I heard they wanted to award you the Silver Star.”

Disgust rang in his voice. “Yeah…for killing Iraqi soldiers.”

“No, for saving Sergeant Harry Ryan.”

“How did you know?”

“I ran into an old friend still in uniform. He congratulated me on my brave son.”

Liam shook his head sadly and a sound of disgust escaped. “An award for killing.”

“No, an award for bravery and for saving a fellow soldier. Because of you, Harry Ryan is with his family today and not underground in one of those sad graves in Arlington.” 

The words slowly filtered through his tortured brain. In the depths of his despair, relief began to surge throughout his stressed, coiled body. The stiffness in his back let go, and for the first time in months, he felt able to slouch and totally relax his muscles. Exhausted, he laid his head back against the couch and let the shudders wrack his body and soul. His eyes remained closed while the tears poured steadily.

Finally he sighed, and then he swore. Clearing his throat and letting his hands fall loosely next to him, he lay back exhausted. Peace invaded the emptiness left by the tears. Words he’d yelled out rang in his ears like a litany of defense.
Because he’d had no choice!
A melody of forgiveness stretched from his head to his heart.
Because he’d had no choice!

He felt the cushion next to him depress, and a hand lifted and cradled his. He grasped the fingers tightly, appreciating the rubs and pats from the other man. Words couldn’t have soothed him as much as the touch from his father.

Slowly his head slid down to nestle against the shoulder of the man he’d never understood, or in truth, liked or respected very much.

“Tell me why you let me go?”

“If you’re asking why I let you go to war, the answer is because of my respect for your choices. If you’re asking why I let your mother rule this house and drive you away from me, it’s because you loved your mother and I loved you.” The simple words were spoken in a voice ripened by regret.

“Aw, Dad. Why did I blame you?”

“Son, I’m not blind, nor am I stupid. But your mother was my adored wife, and I couldn’t hurt her any more than I could hurt you. In my mind, no one had the right to denigrate her, myself included. Even though I knew she did so to me.”

“Couldn’t you see what she was doing? How she turned me against you, belittling and blaming you for everything that ever happened to her? Why didn’t you put a stop to it?”

“How? You tell me how to force someone’s respect and love. Beat her? Hurt her feelings? Put her down to build myself up?”

“That’s what she did constantly.”

A sigh escaped, and the older man lifted their hands to lay a soft kiss on Liam’s. “I know. I’ll try to explain, but the medical terms are beyond me at the moment. The simple explanation—what you never knew because we waited too long to tell you—was that your mother had a brain tumor that often put increased intracranial pressure on her brain and made her suffer those personality anomalies.

“When I first met her, she was like a beautiful butterfly, flitting from flower to flower, never resting or stopping her search, a constant source of joy to a man who’d grown up in a home full of dour people with sour faces.  In the earlier years, I called her my sexy little dynamo. Son, she was something to see. Back then, she treated me like a king.” The sigh following lasted a long time. “But the tumor began to grow, and she changed.”

Liam saw the tears his dad couldn’t hide, heard them in the broken, hoarse-sounding voice, and it became his turn to empathize.

“I wish I’d known her then.”

“Oh, you did, son. Didn’t you ever figure out why she held your heart and only anger came my way?  Because from the time you were born until you were a teen, she put all her energy and devotion into helping you become the man you are today. My only regret is that we didn’t sit you down and explain the circumstances.”

“I wish you would have.”

“I see now that we did things wrong. God’s honest truth? Don’t know if I would’ve done them any differently, though. What can I say? I loved her.”

The vibrating of Liam’s cell phone dancing across the counter grabbed both men’s attention. Exhaustion fading, he rushed over and lifted it to his ear and listened.

Then he said, “I’m only a short ways away. Wait for me. I’m coming with you.” Liam hit End, unplugged the gadget, and pushed it into his jeans pocket.

“You were right. The artist remembered the place and gave directions. Seems the property was owned by their mother’s side of the family and they inherited on her death. It’s still listed under the name of Baker and so never showed up on the radar. Good call, Dad.”