Chapter 39
J.T. was staring at the beach through the patio window when he heard the door click behind him.
He knew who it was before he turned around to confirm his suspicions.
“You couldn’t have been more original than Bali?” Trev asked, closing the front door of the bungalow he’d rented under an assumed name. “I wouldn’t call it deserted.”
“I thought it oddly fitting,” J.T. said, standing in his swim trunks. “I was hoping to find myself.”
Trev prowled forward and socked him in the jaw. “Find yourself? How’s that for finding yourself and leaving me and the rest of us to clean up your shit?”
He fell back a few steps but wouldn’t let his brother mow him down. “You have every right to be angry.”
“You’re damn right I do. What exactly did you expect me to tell our parents and the rest of our siblings if I didn’t find you?”
So Trev had kept it to himself. He’d spent hours awake at night wondering about how his family would react. Stewing about Uncle Arthur’s health and money problems. And, of course, thinking of Caroline… He was sad she wasn’t with his brother, but who could blame her? He’d run out on her. Of course, he’d had a good reason, but he didn’t expect her to see it that way.
“I hoped they would understand I was so upset and defeated I didn’t see another way,” he said. “For the last five days, I’ve been trying to find a way to take her and her father down so I can leave this place one day…” He didn’t know how long it would take or whether Caroline would understand when he returned. It could be years, and he wouldn’t ask her to wait. But he couldn’t come back until he was sure he had something solid to stop Cynthia—and her father if he’d used his influence as well.
Trev shoved him this time. “You didn’t think we could work together on that? That you could trust me to finish this with you?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, crossing to the hand-carved chinaberry wood bar. “Drink?”
He hadn’t touched any, knowing drunkenness wasn’t the way. This time he didn’t want to be numb. He wanted to feel the pain so he’d remember the need to stay away. Man, he needed a bonafide hair shirt.
“There’s not enough liquor in the world to patch up how I feel,” Trev said, sighing heavily. “You scared me, J.T. I never thought…”
His voice broke, and J.T. felt tears come into his own eyes. He pushed them back and walked over to where Trev stood, socking him in the shoulder like they used to do to each other when they were kids.
“I’m sorry I hit you,” Trev said, meeting his eyes.
“No, you’re not,” J.T. said, “but you will be in a few hours, I imagine. So you found me. Is there nothing you can’t track?”
Trev snorted. “What can I say? It’s a gift. Plus, Evan was helping, and he’s even scarier than me. You almost got us with the fake boat rental, though. I was halfway to Raja Ampat before I realized there was no way you’d go there. They don’t have Wi-Fi, and you’d want to be connected to keep tabs on Dare Valley and the museum. Plus, based on what you just said, you’d need it to look into Cynthia and her father.”
But he hadn’t gotten anywhere so far, dammit. “How is Uncle Arthur? I called the hospital under a fake name and got the nurse to tell me, but I want to hear it from you.”
“Isn’t that against hospital rules?” Trev asked. “Glad you kept a hand on it. He didn’t need surgery, thank God, and he’s getting out tomorrow, I believe, if things go well. He wants to see you at his house. I think there’s a little family shindig.”
A pang of longing shuddered through him. He loved sparring with his idol and also hanging out at Hale family parties. “I’m relieved to hear he’s doing well. What about the loan? I sent him a check before I left Denver.”
This time Trev made a raspberry sound with his mouth. “He didn’t mention it until I was leaving. He said to tell you, and I quote, ‘Shove that money right up your ass and get said ass back home.’ He refused all of us—even Aunt Clara. He’s a proud fellow.”
Yes, he was, which was why J.T. admired him so much. “I can’t imagine that stopped you.”
Trev smiled his scary smile. “No, he finally agreed to let me find a bank that would give him the money in the form of a new loan.”
“With better terms, of course,” J.T. said, feeling like he’d dropped one of the boulders weighing on him. “I’m relieved.”
This time Trevor did walk over and pour himself a drink. Bourbon. Straight. Somehow the familiarity choked him up.
“You should have known we’d never let him go down. You should have trusted us, dammit.”
“I did trust you to handle that and everything else,” he said, turning his back so Trev wouldn’t see any tears escape. “How could I have left otherwise?”
“Your precious museum is safe too,” Trev said. “The press conference—”
“Went well,” he said, remembering the pride and heartache he’d felt watching Caroline and Aunt Clara speak their respective pieces alongside President Matthau, who’d looked constipated. “I saw it online—like I imagine you intended.”
“I’m devious like that,” Trev said, walking to the front door with his drink. “Speaking of which, I brought someone else who wants to give you a tongue lashing.”
His pulse leaped. Caroline! He followed his brother’s every step, his heart eager, his gaze intent. When Aunt Clara marched forward, he was sure he blinked twice.
“Ah…you didn’t expect me!” She stopped a foot away and poked him. “You’re an idiot! When has a Merriam ever run from a fight?”
He didn’t want to point out he was fighting, albeit in isolation. “Someone I love almost died. I didn’t see another way.”
“I love him too, and even I saw another way.”
She loved Uncle Arthur? Well, good for them.
“Give him the good news, Aunt,” Trev said, making her a gin and tonic.
“J.T., my boy, we have some good news for you. The woman who loves you is a terrific bad cop and a truly lovely lady. She and I managed to get Sin City on record saying horrible things about some of the wealthiest families in this country.”
He cocked his head, thinking he’d misheard her. “You what?”
His aunt smiled, looking years younger. “We also got her to say on record that there are better things to give money to than cancer research.”
Holy shit!
Trev brought their aunt her drink, and she patted him on the cheek playfully. Goodness, what a sight.
“Aunt Clara should have had a career on the stage, we’ve all decided. Wait until you see the video.”
He rocked back on his heels as his aunt popped open her purse and pulled out a zip drive. This couldn’t be happening.
“She really said all that?” He took out the drive and looked at it. It was ironic that something so small could hold something so powerful.
“I’m still using everything in my arsenal to go after Carlyle Bank,” Trev said.
“But it’s going to be an uphill battle,” J.T. said. “You’d need subpoenas to retrieve emails and files, assuming it wasn’t only a verbal agreement.” Which he thought it likely had been. Rich people with influence made phone calls to get what they wanted. He’d seen it done time and time again.
“All that will take time,” Trev said. “We need to get you back before ten years go by.”
That had been his estimate of the wheels of justice. “What about the advertiser?”
“Nothing concrete, which is what I’d expect given they’re golf buddies,” Trev said. “But Connor and Flynn have plans for that CEO and Newhouse Senior. All legal, of course.”
“I thought you hadn’t told the family,” J.T. said, feeling his gut wrench.
Clara slapped him on the back of his head. “He hasn’t. He only said you needed help. We figured they might kick you in the arse otherwise.”
True that. “So this video… Do you think it’s enough to stop her?”
“I figure Aunt Clara knows a woman’s mind better than I do,” Trev said, putting his drink down hard on the table.
“She’ll be a pariah socially,” his aunt said, sitting down on the sofa and patting the seat beside her. “J.T., come sit.”
He did as she bid him. “What about Caroline? How is she?”
There was no way he could make things up to her, and he knew it. She’d looked so beautiful at the press conference. Her responses to questions about the Rembrandt were as brilliant as Aunt Clara’s tale about why the painting had been kept hidden. From everything he could see, she’d finally achieved what she’d wanted to, professionally speaking. She was at the top of the art world. He only wished he could have been beside her.
“How do you expect her to be?” his aunt asked. “She helped give you the means to check your ex-wife, and it was hard on her to do it. She has the same kind of moral discomfort about it that you seem to. Gads, boy, I wish you’d taped the woman’s calls weeks ago. She’s been playing with you like a cat might a mouse.”
Did no one understand his reasoning? “That’s in the past. Where is Caroline now?”
Clara downed her drink, and Trev started making her another. “I talked her into staying in Dare Valley while you made your decision. A number of us—”
“Including Uncle Arthur and me,” Trev added, bringing his aunt a gin and tonic.
“Thank you, my dear,” she said, taking a sip. “Anyway, as I was saying, after the press conference, we thought it best if you decided what you were going to do without causing her more pain.”
“You don’t pull any punches.”
“You disappeared—or tried to. I think the time for sweet talk is over, don’t you?”
She and Uncle Arthur were perfect for each other, he decided. “What decision are you talking about?”
He heard Trevor growl like a wild dog. Great. Was his brother about to punch him again? His aunt popped him in the shoulder instead.
“Hey!”
“What decision?” she asked. “Seriously? Trevor, you were right. This man could drive anyone to drink.”
He lifted his glass to her.
“J.T., it’s up to you whether you want to come out of hiding and use this video to stop Cynthia. I could—any of us could—but it isn’t our place. Personally, I think it’s time for you to live up to your nickname, Mud Slinger.”
The very words made him want to cringe. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this. But Cynthia hadn’t played fair, and she’d hurt a bunch of people he loved.
“This seems like as good a time as any to give you the three notes we brought for you. Would you grab my purse?”
He picked up the navy Coach handbag and brought it over, anticipation building in his gut.
“First one,” she said, handing him an envelope the size of a thank-you card.
He opened it.
Young J.T.,
You have the tools to stop Sin City. Use them and get your ass back to your woman, Dare Valley, the museum, and your favorite uncle. Exile is no place for any man, certainly not one as well loved as you.
Uncle Arthur
P.S. They say I’m going to live, but if you don’t come back, I’ll probably die and then I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life. I’d make one scary ghost, don’t you think?
He wished he could laugh, but it felt like a wishbone was stuck in his throat.
“The second one?” he asked, his voice raspy.
She handed it to him. It surprised him to see it was from Meredith.
J.T.,
I feel as guilty as you must, knowing my tech improvements at the paper were the reason Grandpa took out the loan in the first place. I want you to know that you’re not to blame for any of it. As Tanner reminds me daily, neither am I.
Caroline and your Aunt Clara have given you the means to stop someone you used to love. You may not know, but I had to make a deal with my ex-husband to stop him from hurting someone I loved, namely Tanner. No one knows the confusing emotions marriage—and divorce—can bring up in a person better than you and I. I know you’ve wanted to fight fair, and I respect that. But it’s time to hold her accountable for what she’s done. When my ex returned to punish me, I had to decide what kind of new life I wanted and fight for it. You have the same decision ahead.
Love,
Meredith
P.S. Besides, Bali is going to get boring with all those hippies.
He almost laughed at the last line, but the rest of her letter sobered him. Meredith had managed to convey an understanding no one else had, and for that he was grateful.
He held out his hand for the last note, knowing it had to be from Caroline.
Dear J.T.,
At first I wanted to accompany Trevor and your aunt. Then I realized there was no point if you wanted to remain where you are, removed from life altogether. That’s not the kind of life I want for myself, and it’s certainly not what I want for you either. For half a second, I considered joining you in Bali, but that’s bullshit. I’m not giving up a wonderful job, family, town, and life. Neither should you.
Aunt Clara and I worked hard to give you the keys to free yourself. I hope you use them. For us, yes, but for you most of all. Because you deserve to have a wonderful life, free from fear.
I hope you choose that wonderful life because I want to be a part of it.
Love,
Caroline
P.S. If you don’t come back, I’m on board for Uncle Arthur haunting you for the rest of your life. Trust me, he’s pretty scary alive. Dead, he’d be terrifying.
“If you ask me, I really don’t think this is a tough choice, but I’ll give you a few moments alone to decide,” Aunt Clara said, patting his arm as she stood and walked out to the patio with Trevor, who was still scowling.
He laid the three notes on the sofa in front of him. All of them had been written with love and encouragement. All of them were full of fight. He felt their strength and their support.
Aunt Clara was right. It wasn’t a tough choice after what Cynthia had done.
He deserved a wonderful life, like Caroline had said, and he wanted it with her.