Think Twice

Seemed it wasn’t just his mother who could read him like a book. “No time now. It’s all okay.” He spotted Jeremy standing behind her, so he politely pushed past her. His son offered him a handshake. Myron took it and resisted the urge to pull him in close, settling for an awkward slap on the shoulder.

Grace Konners had her smartphone pressed against her ear. She turned away from them and kept her voice low. Myron looked a question at Jeremy.

“She’s staying at a hotel down the street under a pseudonym,” Jeremy said.

“And you’ve already met her?”

“Yes. I told you. They visited me when I was in Kuwait.”

Myron looked over at Emily. He remembered how concerned Emily had been, how she didn’t want to get Jeremy’s hopes up before they knew for certain Greg was alive. But he’d known. Jeremy had known for years. Emily met Myron’s eyes and gave a half shrug.

Grace hung up the phone, stood, and moved toward Myron. “Let’s you and me take a walk.”

“Don’t bother,” Emily said, her hand already on the doorknob. “I’ll take the walk. You guys stay.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She headed out and closed the door behind her.

“You lying son of a bitch,” Grace said. “You sold out my son.”

“That’s not what happened, but we’ll have time for assigning blame later. Right now, we need to contact Joe Turant’s people.”

“That was Bo on the phone,” she said.

That took Myron by surprise. “Is he okay?”

“They haven’t hurt him, if that’s what you mean.”

“Where is he?”

“They’re taking him back to Vegas.”

“But they let him contact you?”

Grace nodded. “They didn’t want me calling the police.”

That made sense, Myron thought.

“And they wanted to assure me that they had no intention of harming Bo.”

“How did he sound?”

“How do you think he sounded?”

“What can I do to help?” Myron asked.

Grace half chuckled at that. She looked over at Jeremy. “Now I know where you get it from.”

“Get what?” Jeremy asked.

“Your hero complex. It’s genetic. Your father — and by that, I mean — this is confusing as hell but I mean Greg — he only cares about us. That’s how most people are. But a few, like you two, insist on helping even if it hurts others. On the surface, you seem the better, don’t you? Sacrificing yourself for others and all that. But you’re not. You need to be the hero.” She turned to Myron. “You found out Greg was alive?”

“That’s what the FBI told me.”

“So you guessed that Greg faked his own death, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, you realized that Greg had made the conscious decision to let you and the rest of the world think he was dead. And did you then honor his choice? Did you think, ‘Oh, Greg must have his reasons, I shouldn’t interfere’? No. Instead you turned his world upside down trying to rescue him. And now he’s in prison, and a bunch of sadistic mobsters have my son — all because you had to ‘help,’ consequences be damned.”

Myron had had enough.

“Hey, Grace?” he said.

“What?”

“Someone is murdering people out there. You and Greg and Bo are all tangled up in this. So if you’re trying to lay some guilt trip on me—”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then why don’t we instead focus on getting Bo back safe?”

“Did you tell Turant’s men where Bo was?”

“No,” Myron said. “You have my word on that.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t necessarily a full truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

Jeremy pitched in. “Maybe we can help, Grace.”

Grace moved toward the window and looked out over Central Park. “You said someone is out there murdering people. What do you mean by that?”

“You know about Jordan Kravat. You know about Cecelia Callister and her son Clay. There are others.”

Grace turned away from the window. Jeremy looked at Myron.

“What do you mean, others?” Jeremy asked.

Myron moved toward Grace, wanting her to turn and make eye contact. “Joey Turant didn’t grab your son just to get revenge because he testified against him. If he had, your son would be dead by now. He wants Bo to change his testimony.”

“And once he does?”

“What really happened to Jordan Kravat?” Myron asked. “We need the truth now. It’s just us in the room here. I’m an attorney. You can hire me if you want that kind of protection. Jeremy can leave—”

“No,” she said. “I want Jeremy here.”

“Do you need some water?” Jeremy asked her.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.”

“You can trust Myron,” Jeremy said. “Maybe he should have minded his own business or whatever. I get that. But you need to tell us what really happened.”

“Your father,” she said. “He didn’t want you involved in any of this.”

“I know,” Jeremy said. “But it’s too late for that now. You need to talk to us.”

Grace sat down. Jeremy took the seat across from her. Myron stayed standing, trying to move out of her eyesight. Grace clearly trusted Jeremy. She might open up more if Myron faded into the background.