Chapter 28 #2
I wonder if meeting here is part of his plan, if he’s doing it to make me feel guilty. But as I stop beside him, I get a glimpse of his expression.
I don’t think it is. Lionel just doesn’t have anyone who knew Laura the way I did. Not even his wife, Laura’s mom. She didn’t know what we did all day. After she raised Laura, she didn’t see her even a fraction as much as her dad did.
I read the etching on the gravestone. Laura was only twenty-eight when she passed.
“I don’t fucking come out here for a reason,” I say.
“That’s why we’re here.”
“It’s not easy.”
“It’s hell, is what it is.” Lionel shifts, and I see he’s got something in his hand. It’s a trinket. A charm bracelet—the kind my sisters used to wear when they were kids.
It was Laura’s.
“Did you buy that for her?” I ask, my throat tight.
“I did. On her tenth birthday.” He holds it out. The light’s dull today, the sky an overcast white, but I picture it glittering in the sun.
“It had nothing on it at first. She wasn’t all that impressed. She didn’t get what it was. But then I got her the first charm…it was this one.” He turns the thing over until he’s holding a bell with a deliberate crack in it. “This one wasn’t far. It was where my office was back then, in Philly.”
He examines the bracelet, switching to a charm of the Eiffel Tower. “But this was the next one. I missed her Karate belt ceremony that time.”
He lowers the bracelet, still clutching it in his hand. “Her mother said I was away too much. She was right. This bracelet—it was a guilt present. But she loved it.” He gives a humorless laugh.
This was not what I was expecting when I asked to see him. I thought we’d be in his office, that I’d tell him I wanted desk work through to the new year, and if he wouldn’t give it to me? Well, I knew he’d give it to me. He always said I could take that whenever I wasn’t feeling sharp in the field.
But this? I didn’t come here to talk about Laura. I buried Laura.
I feel a little short of breath. “Lionel,” I begin, but he holds up a finger.
One on the hand holding the bracelet. It peeks out of his fist as he shakes it at me.
“I was so fucking pissed at you, Kelly, for not telling me how it went down. I wanted every detail. I wanted to replay it in my mind, look for cracks. See where you could have done something different and…saved my little girl.” His voice cracks on girl, and my heart fucking cracks along with it.
For a moment, I feel like I’m going to drown. Or maybe pass out. I shift on my feet just to make sure my legs still work.
I open my mouth to tell him I’m sorry, but he speaks first.
“But it’s not like that anymore,” he says.
I meet his eye, even though I feel like shit doing it.
“You know what I’ve realized since then?”
I work my jaw, trying to stay calm and collected for him. “What’s that?” I ask, my voice a dry rasp.
“I realized that it doesn’t matter what you would have done. You would have done everything exactly the way I would have. You were the best, and that’s why I hired you. I wanted someone to blame, and you were the easiest. So for that, I’m sorry.”
I’m so taken aback I don’t know what to say. “That’s not necessary, Lionel.”
“My wife would keel over if she knew I was apologizing to you. If she hadn’t left me.”
It’s a bad joke and we both know it.
Lionel drops the bracelet into his pocket. “Creelman is a piece of shit. I don’t like having to pull away from him. But I don’t have a choice right now. There are bigger things at play, things I don’t want you getting involved in.”
“Thought I’d been with you long enough to be trusted.”
McCrae & Associates is not old—I joined on the ground floor. We were more of a grassroots kind of place working ad hoc back then, hoping we might get a few dollars thrown our way for the next mission.
“You helped make this organization what it is. And I trusted you with my daughter’s life.”
There’s a gap there, where the bitter truth sits like something ugly and raw.
“I still trust you with my own life,” he says, as if trying to mitigate it. “But I need you to trust me on this one. It’s better that you don’t know what’s going on, for your own sake.”
He walks up to Laura’s plot. When he kneels, his knees pop. For a minute I think he’s going to pray. Or maybe break down. But he only reaches out and rearranges the fresh flowers he clearly put in the vase before I got here.
My mind spins as I try to guess what the fuck he’s gotten himself into. Is it something political? Or is it higher up the chain? Creelman has a boss. His boss has a boss. Creelman may have power, but he’s still a mid-level thug.
Lionel stands up again with little effort. His knees are damp. “You’ve forced my hand by bringing Ms. Macklin into the fold, which makes me think you must care about her. Shit, of course you do if you fucking married her.”
“You know it was for her own protection.”
“No. You wouldn’t have offered just any woman that kind of protection and you know it.”
Fuck him and Fuck Ford for both seeing right through me.
“I won’t be able to use the employee defense forever,” he says. “My resources are limited more than they were before. The financials—”
“I understand. I won’t ask you to keep the wolves at bay forever.”
“I don’t even know if I can keep them at bay, period. Creelman’s asking questions Macklin can’t answer.”
I go still. How does he know that? Ford wouldn’t have shared that we were still keeping tabs on Creelman. Somehow, Lionel’s got insider information.
“Creelman hasn’t cooled off on her,” he continues. “I think he believes her brother doesn’t know where she is for now, but if he thinks Macklin’s keeping her from him, he won’t let him stand in his way. We’re involved in this now—you’ve made sure of that—and if something happens to Macklin…”
He looks at me, and I read exactly what he’s telling me.
We can’t afford to have anyone get hurt because of us.
Aside from it being against our very values, the harm or even death of a public figure—one related to an employee of the firm—would be suicide for our business.
No one would be able to believe we could protect them if we were at the center of something so messy.
I think of how messy things have already gotten, thanks to my fucking feelings for Sasha.
“You keep that girl safe, Griffin. But most of all, keep your head clear. You can’t afford any mistakes.”
“I’ll keep the lines of communication open,” I say stiffly. “I’d appreciate it if you would, too. If you hear of anything—”
“You’ll be the first to know if Creelman rears his ugly fucking mug.”
“Thank you, Lionel.”
It’s weird for us to be so polite with each other. But as the man who’s gotten us into this mess—one who could lose everything to one who already has—my thanks is all I have to give him.
“So, Lionel,” I start, shifting my helmet to my other arm.
But Lionel waves a hand at me. “We’ll send you your new project in a couple weeks. I’m hooking Ford up with Yang in Texas, and we’ll check in next month to see if Creelman’s moved on.”
I swallow. I need to say thank you again, but Lionel only meets my eye and says, “Stay close to her, son.”
I nod.
Lionel and I shake hands, and I get the strangest, most ominous feeling that I’m not going to see him again.
It’s illogical—I’ll be back down here soon enough. He’ll probably video call me by this time next week. But I can’t shake it.
But maybe it’s not that. Maybe it’s the guilt of knowing I’ve pivoted so easily from feeling the pain of losing the last person I cared about to being completely consumed by another woman.
To falling for her.
Guilt squeezes my chest as I think about losing Sasha. I’ll die before seeing her name on a stone like this one.
I can’t forget about what that was like with Laura. I can’t lose my fucking head before I’ve even made sure Sasha’s safe.
“Hey, Lionel?” I ask before heading back down the hill toward my bike.
He grunts.
I pause, my eyes dancing over Laura’s marker. “I won’t forget about her.”
Lionel’s lips seem to vibrate slightly as he presses them together. Then he nods and turns back to his daughter’s grave.