Chapter 16
B rody said nothing the entire journey back to Emma’s.
He kept waiting for the fear to strike, the tension that gripped him whenever he met his father.
Instead, he felt nothing at all. The journey was pleasant enough, Emma smiling as Rae chatted about tomorrow.
Occasionally, Rae said something about the lovely boat, expecting him to chime in.
But the boat and the coming sea voyage belonged to a different realm.
He drove, and he smiled and nodded in the right places, but he was already set on a different course.
Even so, the usual storm of emotions did not arrive.
Emma was definitely worn out from the day. Brody more or less carried her up the stairs and through the bookstore. The neighbor on volunteer duty was a heavy set woman whose multiple bracelets clinked nervously as she lifted one hand to her mouth and said, “Emma, what on earth?”
“Do us all a favor, dear,” Emma replied. “And give me a break.”
Brody couldn’t help chuckling.
Emma glared at him. “In case you were wondering, young man, I can also do without your attitude.”
Same old Emma.
Rae helped her settle into bed, multiple pillows propping her into a seated position. Emma thanked them, then declared, “I think this calls for Chinese.”
Rae replied, “Yum.”
“Mongolian beef. Kung pow chicken.”
“Veggies,” Rae said.
“Every plate needs a little garnish,” Emma agreed. When Rae turned towards him, she added, “Brody is otherwise occupied. Aren’t you, dear.”
He had actually been thinking how grabbing Chinese to go and dining with the ladies was a perfect excuse to delay things. “I could do this for you.”
“No, dear. You can’t.”
Her response took Brody straight back. Emma had the same ability as his mother, to chide and sympathize and direct with a smile.
Rae demanded, “What is going on here?”
Emma held Brody with her gaze. “Did you bring your things with you?”
“In the truck.”
“Grab the key to number six on your way out. You can move in when you’re done.”
Brody wondered if his mother had said something when he wasn’t looking.
Or if Emma had found a way to pierce time’s veil.
He merely bent over, kissed her cheek, and headed out.
As he started down the corridor, he heard Rae say, “As the attorney of record, I demand to know what you two are not telling me.”
Brody headed east on 70, waiting for the panic to strike. He had driven this highway so often, he could list all the landmarks by rote. Especially the industrial park containing his father’s company.
The turnoff had been reduced to near gravel by all the heavy traffic.
Two farm equipment companies with their supply and repair depots flanked the juncture.
A road contractor came next, with their gravel yard and chemicals warehouses across the street.
And finally, there at the back, a hurricane fence surrounded Reames Construction.
Brody cut the motor and rose from the car and started toward the main office.
The single-story building was simple and functional, rimmed by a patch of miniature trees and flowering shrubs, mostly winter brown.
His mother’s work. From the warehouse to his right, Brody heard loud voices.
They weren’t angry, and they weren’t shouting.
These were people who built and dug and worked hard.
They were in the habit of talking loud enough to be heard over construction equipment.
Brody had been around such people all his life.
Some he really liked. When he started working for his uncle, they welcomed him—some who worked for his father, others he got to know at the boatyard.
He had become one of them, even at that young age.
They all knew his father, and they made allowances.
Any number of those men and women had come from similar backgrounds.
Or worse. They didn’t talk about it, because there was nothing to say.
As Brody approached the offices he heard his father’s bark. That single sharp note was enough to silence the yard. Brody kept waiting for the tension, the dread that had defined his earlier years.
Nothing.
Whenever he thought of his father, the memories held a sense of impossible burdens. Of never measuring up. Today he was simply carrying out a necessary act. He climbed the front steps and opened the door and stepped inside. Not even his own accelerated heart rate could touch him.
Janet sat precisely where she’d always been.
A three-pack-a-day smoker who adored Brody’s dad and loved how he didn’t seem to care or even notice that she always had a cigarette going.
Brody’s entrance caught her in the act of lighting up.
The flame froze inches from her cigarette.
She clicked off the lighter and said, “Look what we got here. The handsome pirate back from the sea.” Janet reached out. “Come give an old lady a hug.”
It was like embracing an ash tray. Brody always greeted her the same way. “I’m amazed Health and Safety hasn’t locked you up.”
“They can’t find me in all the smoke.” She flicked the lighter, then pointed at the side window. “Your pop’s out there somewhere riling the troops.”
He headed back. “I’m just picking up some things for Mom.”
“Hang on there, handsome.”
It was only when Brody turned around that he realized the office held no Christmas ornaments whatsoever.
Janet demanded, “Are you sure that’s wise?”
Brody decided there was nothing more to be said. As he started down the hall, he was momentarily halted by the wooden panel bolted to the wall above his father’s office door. Burned into the varnished slab were the same words that greeted every visitor to their home: MY ROOF, MY RULES.
Janet called, “Brody?”
“I won’t be long.”
His mother’s former office was incredibly neat.
He had visited any number of times. It did not appear as though anything had been shifted, which was what Brody had been counting on.
Mia’s departure had shocked the company as much as his father.
They all probably expected Emmett Reames to wait until the new year before seeking a replacement.
The flower vase on her side credenza was empty, and it appeared that someone had dusted.
But otherwise, the place was exactly the same.
Even the family photos were still on the wall.
Brody knew exactly what needed doing. He started up the computer and keyed in the same password Mia used on every device—the numerical birth dates of her children in order of arrival.
Then he realized he had forgotten to bring a memory stick.
The desk was locked. But the top drawer had been broken for years.
Brody gripped it with both hands and pressed and lifted.
The drawer came free. He searched with nervous hands and found the internal catch, releasing all the others.
To his vast relief, the middle right drawer held a trio of USB drives still in their packaging.
His anxious fingers fumbled as he unwrapped and slid one home.
Brody had no idea what precise form his father’s attack would take.
So he downloaded everything. All the files, purchases to contracts to revenue to taxes.
He was fairly certain the poison would be inserted in something from the past six to twelve months.
The further back any alteration went, the more complicated a web they would need to spin.
But just to be certain, he added all the files going back three years.
If nothing else, it would help them show a clear pattern of honest dealing. The trademarks that defined Mia Reames.
He heard a chair scrape somewhere, followed by a heavy tread. The front door opened and closed. Brody figured Janet had gone to fetch his father.
The racing heart, the nervous hands. The eerie calm. So very similar to all those earlier episodes. And yet entirely different. Utterly new.
The front door slammed back and his father’s work boots scraped across the foyer.
The sound evoked a blister of memories. How Brody always shot to his feet at the sound of Emmett Reames on approach.
Today he merely breathed around the torrent of memories and emotions.
Not safe. Never here. Even so, he maintained that same distance.
The calm, the fear, the nerves, the drumming heart.
Brody heard Janet’s murmur following along behind as Emmett Reames marched down the main corridor.
Brody checked the download status, strangely glad he had left Mia’s door open.
There was no barrier here, no masking his intent.
Emmett Reames entered so swiftly he pushed a cloud of cigarette smoke in with him. Which, under different circumstances, might have made for a moment’s bitter humor.
Brody heard his father panting.
The sound was beyond strange, almost unique.
Emmett Reames took immense pride in controlling himself as well as his surroundings.
He was a small man, not quite touching five-nine, very compact, and radiating a constant tension.
Brush-cut steel-gray hair, boxer’s jaw, hunter’s tight glacial gaze.
Brody had often heard Emmett Reames described as Carolina’s very own Napoleon, a moniker his father took pride in.
He wore his standard weekday outfit of carefully ironed denims, his pale blue shirt so starched it remained creased even after he had sweat it dark.
His standard nod to winter was a fleece vest.
“I should have known they’d send you,” he told Brody. “Since you’ve spent a lifetime hiding behind women’s skirts.”
Hearing those words emerging from a second man that day was good for a bitter smile.
“You think I’m funny?” Emmett’s tone became razor sharp. “Stand up when I’m talking to you!”
Brody remained where he was. “I spent my entire life thinking I was the problem.”
Emmett snorted. “At least you got that much right.”
“That and wishing I could be the son you wanted.”
“You’ll never be. Not in a million years. Now tell me what you’re doing in my business.”
But he wasn’t finished. “I know now that wasn’t the issue. It never has been. The real issue, then and now, is you’re incapable of accepting who I am.”
“Why should I? My roof, my rules! You were too dumb to ever get that through your thick head!” The computer chimed. Emmett watched Brody pull the drive from the USB slot and rise to his feet. “Give me that!”
“No.”
Emmett started across the office, rage boiling.
“What are you going to do, Pop? Assault your son in front of witnesses?”
He hesitated. Another first. Glanced back at wide-eyed Janet in the doorway. Snarled, “That’s grand larceny.”
“Surprising way to describe making a record of your bookkeeper’s work.” Brody rounded the desk and moved into his father’s space. “Keeping things safe. And honest. And out in the open. The way Mom always worked. Isn’t that right?”
He was close enough for Brody to smell the mint on his breath. “I’ll grind you into dust.”
“You’ve been trying to do that my entire life.” Brody stepped past Janet and started down the corridor. “Look how far that’s gotten you.”