Galilee Rising (29 page)

"Love. Family. Hope for the future."

"Justin Pendergast was a rich, dashing man who due to his orphaned state craved a family. Their deaths were a tragedy, no doubt, but in the end they were replaceable. Pretty faces are a dime a dozen. And supplemental.
Justice
was his real self, Justin Pendergast was the front. And to Justice,
you
were the linchpin to his destruction. The living, breathing, cussing embodiment of all his sacrifices and the importance of his life."

I want to protest but can't open my mouth.

"I knew all about your mutual history through Grace, who continued the research during my first unfortunate incarceration. I knew you were the first person he rescued so soon after his father's death. I knew that you were in love with him, and he was oblivious. I also knew you had no idea of his alter ego. Logically, with my maelstrom swirling, that tidbit would have to be revealed. And when it was, and you loathed him to your very core, I pounced before you could forgive him. Well, tried anyway."

"How did you know when I found out?"

"Multiple avenues. One, I knew you brought Logan in. Then my surveillance team followed you to the mansion, then the apartment where I heard you venting to your then boyfriend."

I blink. "Wait. You bugged my apartment?"

"Of course. Yours and Rebecca's houses had surveillance cameras. We attempted to hide some in the mansion but the butler was always there, so we settled for Justin's office and phones. So, with all this intel, I could plan, rehearse, adapt, and plan again.
This
is what you're up against, Joanna dear. And Cain's IQ reportedly topples even mine. I do not envy you."

"So, what should I do?"

"Only one thing to do." He pauses. "Pray."

I sit in silence for a few seconds staring at the monster who demolished my life and feel…nothing. "I have to go. Plane to catch."

"My meeting with Grace?"

"Working on it."

"Thank you. I do hope I was helpful. Really."

"You were." The words stick in my throat, but I say, "Thank you."

"Just keep in mind what his endgame is and do your best to circumvent it. Might give you a chance."

"I will. See you next week." And the pieces finally fit. I was right. One cockroach just helped me figure out the other.

After jotting down a quick note, and slipping it in my pocket, I rise from the chair. I find Dobbs in the kitchen wiping the counters. "Hello, Miss Joanna. Ready for the airport?"

I move beside him. "Almost," I say, covertly palming him the note. He reads the paper with confusion, and then shakes his head to answer no. Still. "I wanted to borrow that book for the flight. Is it in your room?" I ask, eyes jutting toward the door.

"Yes. Come with me," he says. I follow him through the other kitchen door into his apartment. Like the rest of the house, it's filled with antiques and faded red carpet. I shut the door behind myself. "What is going on, Miss Joanna?"

"I know you said Cain didn't enter the kitchen, but we should be careful. He didn't come in here, did he?"

"No. I was in here the majority of his stay. I know he was upstairs for a time as we spoke when he was descending the stairs. He said he was using the bathroom, which I found odd as he had a satchel with him at the time, but you know all this."

"Do you know anywhere else specifically he went?"

"Just the living room, but I didn't watch him. He had free reign of the house."

Wonderful. "Okay, I need you to walk me through what happened after he left again."

"I heard the front door shut about thirty minutes after you arrived home. I thought you two had gone to dinner as he claimed. Perhaps two hours later, Mr. Darby was at the gate. I let him in and told him you were at dinner with Dr. Ambrose. He appeared shocked by this, but wanted to use the computer regardless. Five minutes after that, he began screaming for me. He had you on the couch in the living room attempting to revive you. The ambulance arrived ten minutes after that, and I escorted them in. Mr. Darby told them he found you out on the patio, then went with you to the hospital."

"So Brendan was the one who found me in the secret room? You didn't open the fireplace for him?"

"No."

And pop goes the weasel. I scoff and shake my head. Of course. "He bugged the house."

"I'm sorry?"

"Cain put cameras and listening devices all over the house. He saw Brendan walk right up to the secret switch, which he shouldn't have known about if he were only my secret lover. Cain put two and two together."

That's also how he knew the exact moment to call when I was comforting Jem. I was ruining the impact of the execution. He couldn't have that. Crap, I have to wade through five days of actions and speech to figure out how much I gave away. Oh God, did he or his cronies watch me undress?

"What do we do? Find and disconnect them?" Dobbs asks.

The gears in my mind turn and turn for a few seconds. "No, not yet. For right now, act normal, but do cancel the cleaners until I say so. I don't want one of them to stumble on a camera and say something. Just keep your eyes open, and assume there's surveillance in every room. Patio too. He probably also tapped all the phones so be careful there as well." I check my watch. "Shit, we have to go. Just…act normal. I'll figure out what to do."

I walk out of his room and even though he said Jordan never came into the kitchen, it's as if I can feel his eyes on me. As I make my way up the stairs to my bedroom, the wheels keep spinning. For the first time since this ordeal began, I think we have the upper hand. The question is how to effectively use it.

Time to play the player.

*

I'm not turned away at the cathedral door, probably not because my name is on the list but because the press behind the barriers instantly recognize me and go into frenzy.

"Were you and Brendan Darby having an affair?"

"Are you working with the Triumvirate?"

And my favorite. "Did you kill Brendan Darby like Justin Pendergast because he was about to end your love affair?"

I keep my eyes down and mouth shut before being waved into the church by security..

I estimate about three hundred mourners milling around the pews, aisles, and the picture of Brendan in his Independence Eagles uniform surrounded by flowers, some arranged to resemble footballs or helmets near the pulpit. Members of both the Eagles and Galilee Angels are chatting with each other, old rivalries forgotten for the day. You can always tell the players by how wide they are. There's a cluster up front forming a semi-circle around a person in the front pew. Though her back is to me, judging from the dark hair, it's Lexie. Another group is on the opposite pew talking to a large man with red hair and tiny woman in a black hat. The parents. I wonder if they knew about King Tempest. If they're proud of him. They should be.

As I scan the crowd I don't see any other familiar faces, but they all seem to know me. Everywhere I look people keep glancing at me then whispering to their companions. Almost a thousand miles from home and I'm still the talk of the town. I ignore them. All I care about is finding that one familiar face. He might not attend out of respect to Lexie and the near cracked secret between them. But if it was my best friend, I'd want to be surrounded by the others who loved him too. For closure too or the beginnings of it. Why else do we hold funerals? They aren't for the dead person, that's for sure.

I sweep the cathedral twice and don't find him. Damn it. Okay, might as well get this over with. Making sure the letter I wrote on the plane asking her to meet later is folded and concealed in the palm of my hand, I maneuver down the aisle toward the widow. I sense at least over a hundred pairs of eyes moving with me. Probably waiting for a catfight. Lexie's parents notice me first, both sets of brown eyes narrowing. She takes after her father with the same dark hair and mouth. Lexie sees me a second later, her expression matching that of her parents' the moment she does. I don't know whether to hug her or run.

"Lexie," I say.

"Joanna," she says with little affect. "Thank you for coming."

"I…" I don't know what to say. Nothing. I just extend the hand with the note to her. "I'm sorry. For your loss."

She glances at my hand with derision, but shakes it anyway, retrieving the note. Her nose twitches when paper hits skin, but there's no other reaction. "Thank you."

I nod and amble away. That went better than anticipated. Now hopefully she'll read the letter, realize she's angry at the wrong people, and rejoin us. I choose a pew at the very back to watch those who enter, but the one I want to arrive doesn't. Stupid respectful bastard. Ten minutes after I arrive, the priest takes his position behind the pulpit and people sit. As the priest begins his sermon, my nervous tension raises a notch. I thought for sure he'd be here. I need him to be here.

The sermon is short and sweet. Time for the eulogies. Brendan's brother Martin is first. He speaks of their growing up in the suburbs of Jericho and happy afternoons playing football. Poor Martin breaks down in the middle of the speech and takes a few seconds to collect himself. God, I hate funerals so fucking much. I start wiggling around in my seat like a Mexican Jumping Bean. I can't stop it. The people around me keep glaring. I would too. Rudeness should be frowned upon. Yeah, this was a bad idea. I did what I came to do. I can leave now before I have a freak out as I did at the last two funerals I've attended.

I wait until Martin finishes so as not to been seen as completely rude, and while the priest announces the next eulogizer, I get up and make my way down the pew. More glares follow. When I reach the large reception area, also filled with flowers and pictures of Brendan, I take a deep breath. I lasted longer that I thought I would.

Quick movement to my left of the lobby draws my attention. I knew it. I'd recognize that thin frame and dark hair anywhere. He's rushing down the hall toward the side exit. He must have been watching the funeral from the door and took off when he saw me get up. I'm right. He turns, sets eyes on me, and quickens his pace. I can't shout in church but I can run. I kick off my heels, pick them up, and take off after him. He's out the door when I'm halfway up. By the time I'm through it too, he's climbing into a cab. A few vultures snap my picture and shout questions, but I plow through them to reach the cab. Just as the car starts moving, I throw open the back door and it comes to a skidding stop.

"Lady, what are you--" the driver says.

"Sorry," I say, out of breath. "Keep driving."

The cabbie glances at Jem. "It's fine." The driver turns back around and pulls away from the curb again. "What are you doing?" Jem whispers. "We shouldn't be seen together."

"I had to talk to you, I'm sorry," I whisper back. "I figured it out."

"What?"

"Your brother. How he learned about our friend. The real reason for his visit. He put cameras and microphones all over my house. He saw our friend enter a room he couldn't have known about."

Jem's silent, then says, "It's logical. Have you removed them yet?"

"I considered it, but…you know what this means, right?" He shakes his head no. "We have the upper hand. He doesn't know we know. We're a step ahead."

He stares at me, eyes slowly narrowing. "You have a plan."

"Hell, yes. Someone very smart and very ruthless reminded me of something. Pride is the deadliest sin of all because those afflicted rarely realize they are. Hubris has taken down many a great man. It's gonna take down your brother too. We've just got to give him exactly what he wants."

"And what is that?" Jem asks with trepidation.

"You, hero." I grin. "
You
. I'm going to destroy your life."

And it's gonna be a hell of a show.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Center Ring

The stage is set, the costumes ready, the cameras are in place, now I simply have to wait for the players. Who are late. If they show up at all. Jem seemed cautiously optimistic this will work, but since he's the one who'll suffer the most, I understand his reluctance to fully commit. Lexie's the wild card. God, please let her show up. Operation Three-Ring Circus needs her.

I'm exhausted. Five hours of flying, a funeral, the realization I'm living in a fishbowl, fear this won't work as planned, it's all caught up with me. I don't even have the energy to change from my funeral clothes. Dobbs drove me home, and I came right downstairs to the lair to "work," pretending to review footage around the church. I've never been much of an actress so even
this
farce is taking a lot out of me. They need to get here before I fall asleep on Doris or run out of fake things to do. I don't know, maybe this whole thing is insane. Cain'll see right through it in five seconds flat. Of course that--

I sense someone staring at me and pivot around in my chair. Jem's still dressed in his clothes from earlier as well. I don't stop my smile. And it's show time. "Jem. You came." I rise. "Thank you."

"Three heads are better than one."

"Oh. Right," I say, sounding a little disappointed. I sit again. "I was just, uh, going over the memorial footage. I don't think he was there today."

"Should you be using the computer?"

"Lizard and I wiped everything. It's safe now."

Jem ambles over, standing close next to me and resting his hand on the back of the chair. I visibly tense and glance at him. "I can review it. If he did come, he would have been in disguise. I'd recognize him before you would."

"Good idea." I click the mouse and rewind the footage. "So, how are you? I didn't get to ask earlier before you kicked me out of your cab."

"Yes, I apologize for being so abrupt. I just didn't want--"

"I know. Keeping your distance in public. I shouldn't have done it." I pause to steal another glimpse of him. "So. How are you?"

"Some days are better than others. I alternate between melancholy and infuriated on an hourly basis. You of all people know how it is when you…lose a best friend. I just, I sincerely hope I didn't lose them both. She is coming, correct?"