“Luxxie!” Charles smiles. “It’s been years since you’ve come here.”
So much for the candid greeting.“Can we talk?” The words are mine; the tone is the same. Yet, I feel . . . different. Worse than broken.
“Sure.” Charles takes a few steps out of his garage and hugs me before my brain makes the connection to pull away. “Please come in.”
We walk alongside a classic car, a cherry red—
“A 1972 Ferrari 246 GT!”Momma’s exhilarated voice echoes in my ringing ear.
I wrench my gaze away as the dangling bulb in the garage flickers.
Light.
Dark.
Light.
The pace kills and revives my heart.
“Jeopardy just started; the kettle corn is almost ready. I know you like it,” he says, taking the knob to the door as my eyes finally adjust to the darkness of the foyer.
As we walk past a set of darkened computer screens on the wall, I say, “Uncle R-Ch-Charles, forget the kettle—”
His burned face pulls tight with disappointment. “Why’re you calling me ‘Charles,’ Luxxie? Let’s sit down, shall we?”
His hand sweeps inside the den, which connects to the kitchen. A pleasant sugary popcorn scent attempts to calm my nerves.
“Okay,” I offer a stiff nod, stalking to the opposite side of the coffee table, claiming the chair across from Charles. Sitting wide legged, I keep my eyes on his. I remove the gun from my hoodie, finger on the trigger, and thumb off the safety.
“Never thought it would come to this.” Despair colors Charles’s tone as his legs find the seat behind him.
“Me either.” I keep my eyes trained on him while texting Victor the unit number. “I’ve respected you. Saw you as a father figure. While some people don’t have one single male role model in their lives, I thought I was blessed. I had two. Do you understand how much admiration I have for you? I’ve fucking set you on the bar next to mydad!”
Maybe I’ve friggen lost it, but while I have a gun directed at Charles, compassion radiates in his eyes. With a tone lowered and distanced by the past, he says, “My parents died in the Swiss Alps while I was in boarding school, Luxxie. They left me a wealthy young man. These things you already know. Nevertheless, all I had was a passion for learning until I met your . . . parents. I admired your father’s intelligence and your mother’s heart.”
Although, we’ve circumvented the reason I came, I snort. “Well, something happened. Dad hates you.”
Charles leans forward in his seat, holding his hands out. “Can I show you something?”
“No! Talk! Talk,Charles.Did you murder my mother?” The words rip clear through my chest. Perspiration slickens my palm, and I readjust the gun in my hand. “Did you murder her?”
12
Victor
My mind races as my gander runs over a row of townhomes. I intended to meet with Dr. Charles Everhart.
Torture him.
Gather intel.
Kill him.
Then meet Luxury at the coffee shop. But there’s no bloody Starbucks in the vicinity, nor did she give me a unit number.Where is she?I should have gotten here sooner. I’d had to run over to Urban Gardens to grab my rental, which cost me time. With not a space left to park, I rush out, leaving the bloody vehicle in the center of the one-way street.
As I stride along the length of garages, I notice a few are open. I’m fumbling with my mobile to try Luxury again when I notice she’d texted me a unit number.
“Oh, thank God,” I say to myself.