Chapter 14

Fortunately, we arrived home before EG. Magda was front and center when I entered with Juliana. Rather than confront her with my suspicions, I left the twins happily hugging each other and chattering with their new-found mother while, duty done, I trudged upstairs to Graham’s lair.

“If the cops are any good, they’ll find Juliana’s cameras,” I told Graham as I entered. “We need to send them the clips so they can locate the bodies.”

“Done,” he said curtly. “I’ve moved her video cloud account and disconnected any trace of the old one. All the cameras feed into CAD’s storage now.”

I’d stripped off my hat and coat as I climbed the stairs, but I hadn’t returned to my room to deposit them yet. Now that I’d done all I knew to do, I felt as if the entire weight of the world was on my shoulders as I turned to leave. I had my family under my roof, but that didn’t make the cruel world outside go away.

“Joshua Arden’s father is a decent man,” Graham said. He still hadn’t turned away from his monitors.

He did not feed me information without reason. I dropped the heavy coat on the floor and sank down on it, resting my forehead against my knees. “Do I really want to hear this?”

He actually swung his desk chair around to look at me. Graham is everything in a man that I want. The electricity between us is lightning bolt shocking. That he actually dragged his OCD self away from his monitors should have straightened my spine and made me preen.

But I was having heavy-duty flashbacks to my Magda-dominated youth, and it was all I could do to resist the urge to find a cave somewhere and pull the mountain down around my introverted self. The downside of one of my Magda-like performances is total energy drainage. I needed to rest and regroup.

“I grudgingly admit that our working together has proved beneficial,” he said.

That shocked me out of my foul mood. My head shot up, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you looking for a fight? Because I could kick you six ways from Sunday right now.”

I swear, his eyes crinkled with what might have been laughter. Maybe. Possibly. But he hid it quickly and returned to growling.

“Magda has a long-standing feud with General Defense Industries.”

I reeled that name through my encyclopedic brain and recalled it as the company Georgie the Embezzler had hoodwinked. It also resonated with some deeper memory I couldn’t pull up. They probably had a CEO in Paul Rose’s cabal of powerful lunatics.

“Gun makers,” I dutifully replied. “She hates them all.”

“They killed our fathers. She has reason. Once upon a time, Reverend William Arden—Josh’s father—advocated gun control. From the power of his pulpit, he condemned weapons manufacturers for creating a culture of world violence. He started a movement that actually put gun control laws on the desks of Congress.”

“Before my time,” I suggested.

I’d have to look up William Arden. My isolated childhood hadn’t contained computers or even televisions most of the time. I missed a lot of pop culture references. I only knew Brody Devlin, my father, from microfiche newspaper articles I hunted when I had the chance.

“Ancient history,” he agreed. “Our fathers laughed at him.”

“Negotiating peace was not a concept most angry young men, can relate to.” I’d been in war zones. I’d seen the fury of frustration fueled by testosterone and fed by politicians with agendas. My father’s generation wasn’t the first or the last to believe violence would cure the ills of the world.

I had only a vague understanding of my father’s history. I hadn’t fully realized Graham’s father was a part of his cadre of angry young men. I knew Graham had been my grandfather’s protégé, so it made sense that his father and my father had been in cahoots in some manner. And presumably, Sean O’Herlihy, Patra’s lover and a man almighty curious about our family, had a father who had been in the same gang—the name was a dead giveaway.

“Our fathers related to peace well enough,” Graham corrected. “They simply thought it had to come at the point of a gun since the ballot box was loaded. But by that time, everyone in Ireland was tired of the fighting, and our fathers were willing to negotiate—from a position of strength.”

“While this is all very interesting, why are we discussing it now?” I crossed my legs on my faux fur coat and studied Graham’s scarred face. He’d been through hell. I was inclined to believe he was on the side of the good guys, but in our world, good was a lighter shade of gray.

“Because William Arden was a brilliant, determined man who threatened GenDef’s bottom line in every way he could. Your father was a famous, fiery orator. He raised sympathy for the plight of the Irish Catholics while he was raising funds to secretly import weapons for a terrorist organization. Money, weapons, and international sympathy for his cause would give Brody the strength to return to Ireland and make demands.”

I waved away this deluge of words. “History of the World 101. I take it you’re telling me that Arden used my father as a tool in his political arsenal and talked him out of buying GenDef’s weapons?”

“Your mother did. She convinced Brody to listen to Arden.”

My mother? Magda talked my father out of blowing up half Ireland? I tried to process this but my mind wouldn’t compute and Graham kept talking.

“You’ll have to ask Magda what the discussion was. I don’t even know for fact that the purchase was cancelled. The world was told that our fathers died in a disagreement over weapons, and everyone assumed it was over type of gun or price or just a deal gone sour. But the rest I learned from your grandfather. At that time, you were a toddler, your father wanted peace, and his only enemies were presumably across the pond. Nothing short of a deal gone bad could have justified blowing up three promising young men.”

Oh crap. My mother had told me flat out that she blamed herself for my father’s death. She’d spent her life avenging him—undoubtedly fighting the weapons dealers she thought had killed him. In my own sick way, I had to admire her determination. Guns were the tools of the devil—or so she’d taught me.

She’d also been so furious with my grandfather that she’d turned her back on all his wealth and never returned. At one point, she’d told me they’d argued and she’d called him an Oracle of Mammon. My tired brain kicked that over and I winced.

My grandfather had been an extremely wealthy man who had been hand in glove with the kind of corporate sharks behind Senator Paul Rose’s current campaign. That meant his investments had undoubtedly included weapons manufacturers. In a way, we were now living off blood money. I could see where Magda might refuse to take it.

Magda and William Arden had talked my father out of buying guns. I got it, sort of.

“You want me to talk to Joshua’s father,” I said, rubbing my forehead and trying to rearrange my thoughts. “You think GenDef is involved in the park, at the very least. Weapons and Jesus do not compute.”

“They do if Joshua Arden needed funds for the park, and Paul Rose needed the support of Josh’s large fan base. Desperate people make strange bedfellows. I sent a file to your box.” He wheeled back to his bank of monitors and scrolled through visuals of the park gates—where reporters were gathering. He brought up shots of the hospital—where a vigil of Arden fans held candles.

So, GenDef had probably had a lot of people killed over the years, including my father and Graham’s. I let that knowledge sink in. What were a few assassinations measured against the hundreds of thousands of innocent people their guns had killed? GenDef and their lobbyists were responsible for corrupting a lot of silly people into believing prophets and George Washington carried AK-47s, fine.

I didn’t like any of it. But right now, right this minute, all the people who mattered to me were safe and almost all under one roof. I determinedly ignored Juliana’s concern for her roommates.

“Make me care,” I muttered obstinately. “I do not want to be part of Magda’s vendetta.”

He gave a frustrated sigh but didn’t turn around. “I don’t want you involved. I want you and your siblings scattered across the country, teaching school and petting ponies. I want Magda and her cohorts to all go to a hell of their own making. And I want peace on earth and goodwill toward mankind.”

He zoomed up two monitors to show videos of Patra and Nick. Patra was looking rather posh in a fitted red cashmere blazer and matching beret she’d no doubt bought at a thrift store since her paycheck wouldn’t cover it. Her red lip-sticked smile dazzled a security guard—outside the hospital? I’d told her to check on the park story.

Nick—my lovely golden Nick—was looking harassed. The Windsor knot in his pink and blue tie was loose, and he ran his hand through his thick hair as he engaged in argument—discussion—with his British embassy employers. Nick never argued exactly. He talked people to death. I’d comment on Graham’s spying on an ally embassy but I was too busy trying to figure out what Nick was doing.

Graham zoomed closer, shutting out people and focusing on a desk covered in glossy photos—photos of my father, me, Magda, and Juliana. In the photo, Julie was talking to Joshua Arden in a ratty-looking coffee shop.

Patra was already investigating GenDef. Nick was being asked about us. My family was already involved in this rubbish. My opting out wouldn’t help.

“Filthy bad word.” I dragged myself and my coat up. “This all has to be Magda’s fault somehow.” I lied, but it made me feel better to blame her.

“This”—he gestured at the screens—“is why I want you out of here.”

“That”—I leaned over his broad shoulder, hit the keyboard, scrambling his monitors, then bit his ear lobe—“is why I cannot leave.”

This time, instead of letting me go, he reacted. He grabbed my waist, yanked me down on his lap, and kissed me until I thought my head had lifted from my body and my mind had entered an altered state. One thing to say about quiet men, they could be explosive kissers.

“I know,” he growled against my ear when he’d put me in my place. “And that is what is making me crazy.”

“Crazier.” I stood and straightened out my sadly wrinkled lawyer suit. “There is no sane place for intelligent people in this world.”

With that pithy, if somewhat ambiguous, remark, I gathered my coat and hat and departed.

“My, look at the two of you! You were adorable as toddlers but now—you’re nothing less than impressive. I can see your father so clearly. . . .” Their mother sniffed tearfully and patted Julie’s cheek.

Strangely, Magda was not the vision Julie recalled from her oldest memories. She’d no doubt embroidered reality with the fairy tales Ana had read to her. Magda was merely a statuesque middle-aged woman with dyed blond hair, impressive cheekbones, and a domineering personality. Julie had lots of experience with domineering personalities. Her antie and gogo had out-domineered Magda. Nothing beat having your own family war party.

“It is good to finally meet you as an adult,” Julie said, hugging Magda again and feeling her mother resist the gesture. Then turning to Zander, she gave him another enthusiastic hug. He was more receptive. “Thank you for looking for me. I really was fine, you know.”

“Not if you couldn’t communicate with me,” he said stiffly, leading the way into a formal parlor adorned with an eccentrically tilted Christmas tree. Julie pulled out her phone, wanting to take a photo, then remembered the bug just in time.

She held out the phone to Zander. “Ana says the bug can be removed. Do you know how?”

Magda exclaimed in annoyance, grabbed the phone, and marched off with it. “I’ll be right back. I just had my fingernails done and don’t want to break them.”

They both watched her go. Zander shook his head in bewilderment. “I have imagined meeting our mother in many ways, but I have never thought of her as. . .”

“A one-woman army?” Julie suggested. “Really, our father tried to tell us. It is our own fault if we did not believe.”

“She is very beautiful,” Zander said with a hint of uncertainty.

“But we are looking for a mother, someone human. I am sure she is a very good person, but we were probably better off being raised by our anties.” Julie wandered over to examine the tree. She found the hanging photo ornament immediately. “Is this our grandparents?”

“Yes, and Magda as a child. Our brother Nicholas hung that. I want to think of something personal I can hang, so they remember us when we are home again.” Zander leaned over to examine the packages under the tree. “I have ordered a few gifts. Do you think we might stay until after the holiday?”

“What about your employer?” she asked, crouching down to read the tags.

“Work is slow this time of year. I have emailed them to say I am meeting with a very important client. Ana has asked me to look after one of our grandfather’s funds. There may be more, so I am being honest.”

“There is a package for me!” She rattled the oddly decorated box.

“I think the package you are holding is from Elizabeth Georgiana, our youngest sister. Her wrappings are. . . interesting.”

The paper was purple with super-hero characters and a big black bow. Julie smiled and allowed herself to relax, just a little. She had been worried about her friends and Reverend Arden and what she would do next, but right now, right this moment, she was safe with her twin and the mysterious family she’d always wondered about.

“I should go shopping for gifts too. I have been afraid to do anything online for fear that I was being watched.” She sat cross-legged beneath the tree, found the tree light switch, and turned them on against the dull gray day outside.

The lights flashed like a little piece of heaven against the cheap plastic ornaments and the colorful packages.

“Do you have any idea why you were being watched? Or if everyone was?” Ana asked, striding into the room.

Julie glanced up and blinked in surprise. The assured, sophisticated lawyer had morphed into a short woman in an ugly denim maxi dress over a knit Henley. Without any of her earlier toughness, Ana curled her legs up in an old chair and simply waited for an answer. She was wearing what appeared to be sandals with heavy socks. Only the shiny black braid remained the same.

“You are a chameleon,” Julie exclaimed. “But you choose not to blend into these elegant surroundings. Why is that?”

Ana’s long dark lashes blinked in surprise, then she tilted her head in consideration. “A chameleon changes colors when it feels threatened. Here, I’m at home and can be myself. I am an introvert by nature, a basement-residing spider who prefers to watch the world through my computers.”

“Agoraphobia is the danger of introversion,” the lamp beside the chair intoned.

Julie thought her eyes might pop out. She stared as Ana patted the lamp shade fondly.

“That’s Amadeus Graham, the pot calling the kettle black,” Ana explained. “Except he’s not a natural introvert, just a tarantula hiding in the dark, waiting for his next victim. Never expect privacy in this house. Back to the bug in your phone. . . .” She waited expectantly.

Magda sailed in, holding said phone out in triumph. “All better now. I’ll see if anyone can trace that fairly crude mechanism.”

Ana snatched the phone from her mother’s hand before Julie could stand up. She pulled a tool out of her dress pocket, pried the back off, and removed a tiny card. “There, now you can turn on the GPS when you want, and Magda doesn’t have to know if you’re meeting your boyfriends.”

Zander took the phone and handed it over to Julie so she didn’t need to stand up. “I see I have much to learn if I’m to know our family,” he said warily.

Magda glared at Ana, who didn’t even bother turning to look at their mother.

“Understand that you are loved,” Ana said. “But accept that our love comes in the form of protection, which means we all lack privacy. I try to respect boundaries. Magda doesn’t know boundaries exist. And Graham. . . I won’t even try to explain. But we need to know who was watching you and why, because it wasn’t us doing it, so it was most likely someone who didn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Julie bit her bottom lip, studied her newly-freed phone, and reluctantly responded. “I told my supervisor I thought the security cameras had caught a man being murdered, and I stupidly showed her the image on my phone.”