Reunion (20 page)

It had been simple. The patients of Reed House were in here for life. None of them was ever going to get better, and there were a goodly number of them getting old. In certain instances, some aging patients hadn’t a living relative among them. Their care was then paid for through different avenues that the families had set up in their wills. No one came to visit. No one cared, as long as the checks arrived from the trusts set up in their names.

All Althea had to do was forge a couple of papers for each file. To anyone concerned, it would appear that, at some distant relative’s request, the aging patients had been transferred to another facility in another state. But what Althea was doing was packing them up, along with their meager belongings, and dropping them off in various downtown locations. Locations that were filled with vagrants, locations where homelessness was commonplace and mindless people went unnoticed. On one paper, the patient had been transferred. But the executors and law firms knew nothing of the fictitious moves. They kept sending the money to Reed House as they’d been requested to do, and Althea Good put it right up her nose.

And it had been working perfectly, until she’d turned the younger man free. In this instance, age shouldn’t have mattered. She still didn’t know what had gone wrong. Less than a week after Garrett Connor’s parents were killed, she’d gotten a letter from a law firm stating that, until further notice, all the payments for his care would be coming from them. She’d done a quick scan of his records. The only visitors he’d ever had were the parents, and now they were dead. She hadn’t known about the brother. Why hadn’t someone made mention of the brother? Secrets! That was what was wrong with this world! Too many secrets!

The phone rang just as she was reaching for her coffee cup. It went tumbling to the floor, and in spite of the thickness of the carpeting beneath her desk, shattered into dozens of pieces.

She stared down at the mess in disbelief and then reached for the phone instead.

“Althea Good.”

“Miss Good, this is Kirby Summers, from the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation. I was wondering when I might come out and talk to you about one of your patients.”

Bile rose in the back of her throat. She cleared her throat, then took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Summers, but the records of our patients are confidential. I’m sure you understand.”

Kirby was prepared. “What I’ve been given to understand is that Reed House has somehow loosed a very dangerous man into society. And, the media being what they are, I’m sure you would like to respond to my inquiries before they get wind of this latest development. Trust me. When they discover the news—and they
will
discover it—they will descend upon you like flies on shit. Do I make myself clear?”

Althea didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll clear my afternoon calendar. Come any time after one.”

It was the distinct click in her ear that set her pulse into overdrive. Her hands were shaking when she hung up the phone, and there was a bitter taste in her mouth that no amount of swallowing could relieve.

“Oh God, oh God, what do I do?”

The urge came on her then, stronger than it had this morning, stronger than it ever had before. The police were coming. The OSBI for God’s sake—and in less than two hours. If she couldn’t get her act together before they got here, they would know something was wrong. Administrators of elite places like Reed House didn’t go into withdrawal. She couldn’t be shaking; she had to be strong. She needed to score before it all blew up in her face.

“Put your hands up, lady, you’re under arrest! Charlie, cuff ’em both.”

Clutching the small bag of white powder to her breast, Althea thought about running. But she had on high heels, and the man looked too mean. And there was the gun he had in her face. She had a gun of her own. If she was a little bit braver, she might pull the—

“Well, now, would you look at this?” Charlie said, pulling the gun out of her jacket. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a permit for this?”

She rolled her eyes.
Permit? Don’t make me laugh.

God, she kept thinking, this was such a mistake. In typical Althea fashion, she eyed both cops, judging their faces as well as the street clothes they were wearing. Without taking into consideration the fact that they were dressed this way because they’d been undercover, she opened her big mouth and made another mistake.

“Look, I was buying this for a friend. I’ve never been in trouble before in my life, so how much?” she asked.

“How much what?” the cop asked.

“How much will it take to let me walk?”

The cop looked at his partner and then grinned. “Ooh boy, Charlie, we got ourselves a real piece of work.” He looked back at Althea. “I’d say…ten to twenty…at the least.”

Her mind started whirling. Ten thousand?
Twenty
thousand! She had a little bit in the bank, and there was still the Ford. She could still sell the Ford. She glanced at them and then smiled. It was true. Every man did have a price. She lowered her voice.

“Who do I pay?”

“The State of Oklahoma,” the cop said, and snapped the handcuffs around her wrists. “We aren’t talking thousands of dollars lady, we’re talking years. You’re carrying a concealed weapon. You tried to bribe two officers of the law, and you are in possession. You
are
green.”

The blood drained from her face. Minutes later, she was on her way to the precinct. Panic mixed with nausea. She was going to be late for her meeting with the OSBI agent. Then she almost laughed. My God, that stuff had really messed up her brain. Missing a meeting should be the least of her worries. But there was one consolation to this mess she was in. Possession of drugs…embezzling money…they were both crimes, but they couldn’t hang her twice.

Ray Bush was just going off duty when both suspects were brought in for booking. He didn’t pay much attention to either of them until he heard the woman giving her name. At that point, he stopped.

“Althea Susan Good, 911 Sooner Road, Del City, Oklahoma.”

He stood to one side, listening to her responses to the questions.

When they asked for her job, she mumbled, reluctant to tell, but well aware that a lie at this point would not be in her best interests.

“Administrator at Reed House.”

Ray couldn’t stop staring. He’d talked to Kirby only a couple of hours earlier and begged off from accompanying him to that very same place.

“’Scuse me, Charlie, but could I ask the lady a question?”

The cop looked up from his desk and then shrugged. “Fine with me.”

Althea was past caring who was grilling her next. All she wanted was her phone call.

“Ma’am?” Ray asked.

She leaned back in her chair and looked up.

Now that he had her attention, he paused, sorting through his thoughts.

She rolled her eyes. “Spit it out, boy.”

An old anger hit Ray where it hurt. Boy. He should have known she would be one of those.

He leaned closer, giving her the full brunt of his brown skin and black eyes.

“Kirby Summers was coming to see you today, wasn’t he?”

She shrugged and then glanced up at the clock. It was thirty minutes past two. He’d been due there at one.

There was a sarcastic smirk on her face as she answered, “Looks like I’m running a little late.”

Ray straightened up. “More than you know, lady. More than you know.” Then he headed for a phone.

For a man plagued with gout and a trick knee, Mike Travers was moving at a very brisk pace. He’d just come from a meeting with Brent Connor’s law firm, and he was still trying to absorb what he’d learned.

It had all started with something Gabriel had said after learning about Garrett’s existence. If his parents had loved Garrett all that much, then why hadn’t they thought to take care of him in their will? That was when things had started to bother Mike.

After Gabriel’s injuries had proven so serious, Mike had been appointed temporary executor in Gabriel’s stead. The will had been straightforward. Gabriel inherited everything. Mike vaguely remembered hearing the lawyers make mention of various endowments the Connors had made, but he’d paid little attention at the time. Nothing had mattered but getting Gabriel well. By the time Gabriel was on the road to recovery, the will had gone through probate and everything was set in stone. Mike had gladly turned the paperwork over to Gabriel a few days after he’d come home, and that was that.

Or so he’d thought.

Only he’d been wrong, and so had Gabriel. Mike had just spent the better part of an hour with a lawyer who claimed that Brent Connor had established a trust fund meant to take care of Garrett for the rest of his natural life. And, according to that same lawyer, a substantial check was cut and mailed to Reed House every month for Garrett’s care. At that point, Mike had found out what he needed to know and had taken his leave.

Gabriel sat in the middle of the library floor, surrounded by photograph albums. Laura lay on her stomach beside him, propped up by her elbows. Comfortable in one of Gabriel’s T-shirts and her own jeans, she leaned against his knee, watching as he turned page after page. Every now and then her gaze wandered from the pictures before her to Gabriel. In repose, he seemed calm, but she could sense how unsettled he was, how difficult it was for him to maintain control.

Gabriel stared down at the image before him, trying to remember the day that particular shot had been taken. It was at Grand Lake on the Fourth of July, and he was ten years old. He knew that simply because it was what his mother had written underneath the snapshot.

Ten years old. Five years after Garrett had been put away.

The fish he was holding was large, his smile even larger. He wondered if Garrett had ever gone fishing. He frowned and turned the page.

He was angry. Even the word
brother
made him mad. He was worried. Garrett had been born to a life of suffering. When they caught him, it would advance to a whole new level. And in a way he didn’t understand, he was afraid. Afraid of the man his brother had become. He had killed more than once, and if Harry Wallis was to be believed, had no understanding of remorse.

Suddenly ashamed of his own fears, he slammed the book shut, then tossed it aside and thrust his fingers through the curls on Laura’s head.

“This was a good idea, sweetheart, but as you can see, there are no pictures of us as twins. Only me.”

He gave the curls a gentle tug, and then leaned down and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

Laura rolled until she was lying on her back and looking up at him. Her gaze slid from his face to the breadth of his shoulders beneath his knit shirt, then to the length of his legs. It took a lot of denim for Levi’s jeans to cover up this man.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, and laid a hand on his knee.

He shook his head and then cupped her cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s my parents who dropped the damn ball.”

Matty walked in on the heels of that remark, and once again, her conscience tugged. But she hoped the manila envelope she was carrying would, in some small way, alleviate part of her guilt in the deception.

“Gabriel…”

Unaware that she’d entered the room, he looked up in surprise.

“Matty! I didn’t hear you come in.” He gestured at the albums strewn over the floor. “We were just looking for pictures of Garrett.”

“Did you find any?” she asked.

“No, although I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said, unable to disguise his bitterness. “My parents were hell on secrets.”

Matty’s lower lip trembled, but she kept her control.

“I came to tell you that Dr. Mike called. He’s on his way over here with some news.”

A sardonic grin broke the somberness of Gabriel’s expression. “Don’t let him in unless it’s all good,” he said.

Laura chuckled, which made Gabriel’s smile widen.

Matty’s mind was on other matters, so she completely missed what he said. “Will he be staying for lunch?” she asked.

Gabriel glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to one.

“I imagine. Go ahead and set another place just in case, okay?”

She nodded, but stood where she was. Last night she’d made a decision, something she should have done years ago. Gabriel was a grown man. He should have had the right to decide on his own whether he wanted a relationship with his brother or not.

“Gabriel…”

He could tell by the way she was standing that something was wrong, and from the way things had been going, he didn’t want to be sitting on his ass when he heard it. He got up, pulling Laura to her feet beside him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I have something for you. Something I’ve been saving for years.”

She handed him the envelope.

“What is it?”

“Your past…your future…whatever you choose to make it, it belongs to you,” she said, and then gave him a hug before slipping out of the room.

Gabriel stared down at the envelope and then strode to the desk and turned it upside down. Pictures spilled out onto the desktop, one after the other, until the envelope was empty and the desktop was covered with black-and-white images of a life he didn’t remember.