Gordon pulled into the winding driveway onto the two-hundred-fifty-year-old estate and rolled past the main house, down a long tractor road, to the caretaker’s lodge at the north side of the property. As the shaggy fishing van snaked back toward the cabin, a chain-link fenced pen came into view. It was alive with the rabid energy of eleven catch dogs. Large, angry Cane Corsos, snapping at them as they drove by. Adam thought the beasts looked hungry. Gordon knew full well that they were. In his race to retrieve Kate and the kids, he had forgotten to feed them. He made a mental note, once the family settled into the back lodge, to quell the pack with food.
The caretaker’s lodge was sparse, cool, and calm. The steady bark of the hounds was the only sound from outside. The place seemed to be shut down for the season. Gordon explained that the caretakers were in Switzerland opening Heaton’s summer home. He had been the only one up here for the last month or so, only to feed the dogs and walk the property, scouting for any problems to report to the maintenance crews down in London. He had come to like the lonely, quiet work. In the last six months, as Heaton and his world grew increasingly crazed, Gordon preferred the solitude nestled inside the three hundred acres, with the stars in the sky at night and the birds in the trees come morning—just the dogs and him.
He had stocked the kitchen in advance of bringing Kate and the grandkids up. He showed them around the sparsely furnished maintenance lodge. He gave Kate and Adam the nicest bedroom suite and told them to get some rest while he organized his plans to get them over to Ireland and then back home. He had Adam stow the fishing van in a garage by the dog pound while he backed out a new Mercedes station wagon that they would load in the morning and take to the west coast. He was trying desperately, with actions rather than words, to show Adam that he had been played as badly, if not worse, than Adam himself had been.
Something about the way that Adam went along with the preparations told Gordon that his son-in-law seemed to understand, if not condone, the actions Gordon had been forced to take. The ice was still there between them, but perhaps it had begun to thaw. He hoped he’d soon feel the same energy from his grandson and, even more important, his daughter.
Later that night, with Kate and the kids in bed, while he and Gordon nursed some of Heaton’s scotch, Adam saw the latest chum that Downing Street had thrown to the world’s media. They had released his name and face. He was on every channel. CNN was interviewing everyone he ever knew about the “attempted murder” at the governor’s office in Michigan: all of his old friends, and they even got to Jenny Plena, his high school girlfriend, who told through tears about Adam bringing flowers to her mother on her deathbed.
Every channel would be running the story for hours, fueled by photos, testimony, theories, and profiles. By morning there wouldn’t be a soul on Earth who wouldn’t know his name.
This latest news had taken Adam lower than Gordon had ever seen him. As he pried himself up off the couch, Gordon took the remote and shut the television off. He put his arm on Adam’s shoulder.
“It’s gonna be okay, boy. We have a plan, we stick with it.” Adam nodded. It made sense but he couldn’t picture the end, couldn’t imagine a time when he walked away from all of this, from his mistake in Michigan, from the fugitive version of himself that he saw on the news. However efficient a plan they made, it all seemed pointless, like a fire drill in a town about to be nuked.
* * *
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Gordon, standing in the kitchen, could hear Kate’s feet moving on the thin wooden floor above him. He made a fresh pot of coffee and put out a pitcher of orange juice. He sat at the table and waited for her to come down. When she did, as she poured herself a cup of coffee, he opened his heart and hoped for the best.
“Kate, please know I would never have knowingly put you or Adam or my grandchildren in any harm. I’d rather die a thousand deaths than to have that on my head. I was duped. I am an old fool. All I wanted was for you to smile once in my direction, to be happy and know that maybe I was part of the cause. I thought I was doing a good thing getting Adam in with Heaton. I swear to you, darling, on the grave of your beautiful mother, I swear it’s the truth.” Kate turned to look at her father seated at the table. He seemed smaller now than he ever had. His eyes red with anguish. His hands bent inward from stress.
She walked over to the table and kissed his wrinkled forehead sweetly. She could almost feel her kiss melt his aching limbs. She sat down with her coffee next to him and took his hand. He leaned down and kissed hers. A tear sat solemnly on his bottom eyelid.
“All I’ve done for years is miss you, girl. Miss you, miss your mum.”
“I know, Daddy. I know.”
“When this is all over, when I get you and the family out, when I clean up my side of the street, I want to come over. To Chicago. I don’t need to live underfoot. I have money. I’ll get a place. I’ll start a new life. I’ve been a fool. I should have done it years ago, but I thought I couldn’t leave England. Thought I’d be leaving your mother, my mum, my dad. I could feel them here still, but I can’t now, you see? I don’t feel them anymore.”
She hugged him. He wept outright. They held each other with bittersweet joy. There was nothing to be happy about in either of their lives, but this moment here had waited patiently to arrive, so they each danced in it warmly, hungry for any bit of light they could find.