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“Half the city has motive. This seems more poetic justice than murder. And the investigation is pretty cut and dry from what law enforcement is telling us. The guy who pushed him was homeless. He’s known around that area of town for his erratic behavior. He’s also missing, but he’ll probably show back up—he always does. What’s your plan?”
“I want Alana out of town, but I need to be here to take care of whatever needs to happen. I’ll let you know when we can leave, but let’s plan on Saturday, late day.”
“I’ll book the chopper. What time?”
“I’ll pay to have it on standby. Just get it ready for me.”
He nods, and before he turns, I say, “Somehow, Caleb did this. You know that, right?”
“If that homeless guy doesn’t show back up when locals are sure he will, I’d tend to agree. But that would be hard as fuck to prove. He actually performed CPR on your father and all, but got hit by a vehicle trying to protect him.”
I draw an uneasy breath and leave it at that.
I turn around to enter the apartment. Alana is standing at the door, waiting on me, tears burning in her eyes. “My mother just called. You know, right? It’s all over the news.”
“I know,” I say solemnly, opening my arms to fold her close.
“I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m so confused.” She tilts her gaze to mine. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know, baby. I told Blake what I’ll tell you. I feel—empty.”
But I know in my heart that’s not wholly true. He was a bastard who I’d declared I would kill to protect Alana. Now he’s dead. And she’s safe. I feel relief. I abso-fucking-lutely feel relief.
I would have, and will, do anything to protect Alana.
And I was willing to say goodbye to my father—kill him to protect her—and now that willingness has become reality. There was no other way to stop him, but Caleb—and this was Caleb, I know it was—simply did the deed for me.
Poetic justice, Blake said.
Yes. Yes, it is.
Chapter Forty-Five
Alana
The next few days tick by with heavy arms of the clock.
Damion identifies the body. His mother is going to fly in for the funeral. And I have to convince my own irrational mother that she cannot attend the funeral of the man who killed her husband. She’s more upset over Damion’s father than mine. I can’t help but question her knowledge of my father’s murder, and I know my father was murdered. But justice has been done. Damion’s father is gone. My mother is alone.
Somehow, I convince her to travel to Italy with a friend she met in yoga. We ship her off, on our dime, of course, and she’s just gone. And the fact that that sits so right is somehow wrong.
Damion is voted in as CEO of West Enterprises, though he fears all the nightmares and crimes he will uncover and expects hell for months to follow.
Mary’s company is saved.
Even the board is saved from whatever West Senior held over their heads, and Damion seems to think they were relieved.
The studio, rating whores that they are, tried yet again to get me on camera for an interview. When that doesn’t work, they try for a wedding special. That is never going to happen. My show is real estate, not my love life.
The day of the funeral brings back memories of attending my own father’s funeral, and I wake nauseous and overall not good, but I try not to allow it to show. No matter what, Damion is saying goodbye to a parent today. I’ve just finished dressing in the same black dress I’d worn that day when Damion appears in the closet door, already dressed in a black suit.
“My mother’s not coming after all. She said she will not make the first time she sees you in years, be at that man’s funeral. She wants us to come see her. Soon.”
“I’d like that,” I say. “I’m sorry she won’t be here for you.”
“I’m fine,” he assures me. “I have you, baby, and my mother isn’t wrong about not coming. They were not friendly. She feels like it’s hypocritical.”
“I’ve thought of that,” I say, a bit of guilt grinding inside me and then churning around for good measure. I step close to him, my hands settling lightly on his arms, offering comfort with my touch, I hope. He’s been strained, torn between emotions that he can’t even fully name. Guilt over not feeling the loss seems to reign.
