A smile curls Steve’s lips as he looks at the single line in Dick’s latest Mastercard statement. Dr. Richard Raynes is going to a party. Two days ago, he paid two thousand dollars to the Ingall Foundation.
Grayson Ingall, aka Irving Grayson Ingberg III, is at the top of Steve’s list of prospective ex-felons Dick might be watching. Ingall is a grade-A deviant with a lot of money, which in Steve’s experience is a dangerous combination.
Steve pulls up the foundation’s home page. The Ingall Foundation annual fundraiser is being held at the benefactor’s home in Anaheim Hills a week from Saturday. The tickets are a thousand dollars apiece, which means Dick is bringing a guest. His heart tightens with the thought that it could be Denise.
“I never received your transfer request.”
Steve looks up to see Gelson in his doorway.
“I’ve decided to stay,” Steve says.
The lines around Gelson’s mouth tighten. “You have?”
“Yep. You’ll be happy to know I’m not going anywhere.”
Not much is sweet about Steve’s current situation, but watching Gelson squirm gives him a distinct sense of satisfaction.
“If this is about what I said about getting rid of your position—”
“It’s not,” Steve says. “I’ve decided not to transfer, though it does look like I will need to go to California next week.”
“You do understand you only get three weeks vacation a year?”
“It’s not a vacation.”
“It’s business?”
Steve considers this. “Business and personal,” he says.
Dick—business. Denise—personal. It’s been two months since things ended with Denise. He called her last night and left another message. It’s pathetic, but he can’t help himself. He hates how they left things. Every other thought is about her, and at least once a week, he breaks down and calls to tell her he still loves her and that he misses her.
Gelson narrows his ferret eyes but wisely chooses to let it go. With a military heel turn, he pivots and marches away, and Steve looks again at the screen and the glitzy page for the Ingall Foundation’s fundraiser. Things have been eerily quiet since Hamilton, an ominous, foreboding calm. Steve senses it, something about to happen, and Steve intends to be there when it does.