Blind Spot (18 page)

The information sunk in slowly, and Sam nodded at her to go on. Janice wasn’t lying.

She leaned forward. “I told him I refused to leave. I knew there was something else. He wasn’t himself. It wasn’t just the drinking. He was drinking a lot more in those days.”

Sam’s gut lurched. His palm was sweaty against Nathan’s, but he didn’t let go.

“Finally a lightbulb went off in my head. You see, about a month before all of this happened, we’d started a folder on a man named Victor Voronkov. I assume you know the name?”

Nathan cleared his throat. “Of course.” He exchanged a glance with Sam, which Sam read as “keep your mouth shut.” According to the picture in the files, Victor Voronkov had met with Mayor White that year, but it would be huge if Janice could independently confirm the connection.

“I knew he was a mob boss, but I didn’t know why we were working on him. He wasn’t in our jurisdiction. In those days he lived in New York. So I asked your father, point-blank, if he’d been threatened. He broke down and told me yes.”

“Shit. By Voronkov himself?” Sam couldn’t stop himself from interjecting.

“No. No. That was the worst part. He told me an old friend was involved. The friend had approached him with a payoff, but he hadn’t accepted it.”

“Did he tell you who the friend was?” Sam asked. It had to be Dan Sheldon. It had to be.

Janice frowned. “No. He was very drunk by then and kept calling him ‘The Tiger.’ Later I knew it must have been Dan, but at the time, I had no idea who he was talking about. I wouldn’t have guessed Dan was involved with the mob—not in my wildest dreams. The two of them had always been such good friends, and Dan was absolutely devastated when the accident happened.”

Sam let go of Nathan’s hand and scrubbed both of his over his face. “And you never told anyone.”

“I was scared for my life. And I had no idea who was involved. Anyway that was it. He made me pack my things, and I left the office. I went home. A week later he was dead.”

Sam swallowed and stared at Janice when she stopped speaking. He always wondered if his father knew anything about the corruption in Stonebridge, but he never had any proof. If what Janice said was true, it seemed probable his father had discovered the connection between his good friend the police chief and the Russian mob—just like Emma had. That discovery led to her death at the hands of Sheldon’s crooked cops and Bernhardt Hoff, their mob connection. Of course Sheldon didn’t carry out the dirty work, but he orchestrated it. He allowed a woman he supposedly cared for like a daughter to be murdered in cold blood and had nearly destroyed Nathan in the process.

Had Sheldon coordinated the car accident that snowy night? Or had he gotten someone else to do his dirty work then too? A hot, slow-spreading rage started to burn its way through Sam’s chest. Even to the end, Sheldon had maintained his allegiance to Sam’s father’s memory and acted like he was trying to protect Sam for his father’s sake. It had been his only redeeming feature—the one aspect of his character not blackened by lying. But it had been a deception. Sam felt his gorge rise. He’d been so blindly naïve.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. “That no good, murdering son of a bitch.” He could have punched something—or worse. If Dan Sheldon had been present, Sam would have killed him.

“After the accident, I convinced myself it was a coincidence.” Janice’s voice held a trace of shame. “Your mother and your brother were in the car. Why target them if it was your father they were after? But eventually, when I heard about what Dan was involved with, the conversation came back to me. And I knew… I knew your father had been speaking about him.”

She paused, and Sam took the opportunity to launch his attack. “But you left town like my father told you to. If you really believed it was an accident, you wouldn’t have done that.” If what Janice was saying was true, she might have reopened his parents’ case as homicide, but she chose to stay quiet.

“You’re right and you have every reason to be upset. I did have my doubts and I took precautions. Sometimes… we have to tell ourselves stories to be able to go on with our lives, even if those stories aren’t completely true. So I rewrote that night in my mind as your father being drunk and confused. I tried to forget about it. I moved, I met Stephen, and we married. I was happy.”

Sam winced visibly, and Janice gave him a sad smile.

“Of course you can only lie to yourself for so long,” she continued. “But by the time I realized I should have come forward, Steven was dying. And I had other things on my mind. I figured Dan was going to be put away for life anyway. I didn’t want to waste the last few days of my husband’s life by dragging us into the case. And in the end, justice was served. Wasn’t it?”

Sam sat back like he’d been pushed. City hall was still benefitting from the drug money that had likely cost Sam’s parents their lives. Of course Janice wouldn’t know. She probably believed the corruption in Stonebridge had been eliminated. She didn’t know about Mayor White’s mob ties—yet. “But not for my family,” he said. “No justice for my brother. He was innocent.”

Janice’s expression remained stoic and a little sad, and Sam glared at her. A more rational thought flickered through his anger. The loss of her husband, which was much more immediate than the long-ago accident—murder. She didn’t have anything left to give, and he couldn’t expect any more.

“All I can say is I’m sorry. It’s been good to see you, Sam. You don’t know this, but I’ve been following your blog. You’re an excellent writer. I think your father would be very proud of you.”

Sam couldn’t respond.

“Thank you for telling us the truth,” said Nathan. “I know it wasn’t easy.” As Nathan and Janice spoke, an object on the coffee table drew Sam’s eye. The brass elephant paperweight was familiar. It took a moment to place it, but when he did, he sucked in a breath.

“This was my father’s,” he said, turning the heavy, dusty thing in his hands. It had been a graduation gift from a favorite law school professor, and Sam remembered seeing it on many occasions on the bookshelf in his dad’s office.

“Yes,” said Janice, with a trace more emotion. “I took it when I left, to have something to remember him by. You can keep it if you like.”

Sam set the weight back down. “Thanks. You keep it.”

“An elephant never forgets,” she whispered. There was a faraway look in her eyes, but it was gone in an instant. She stood. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way to hear such bad news. What will you do now?”

Sam balled his hands into fists. He knew exactly where they were going, and he knew exactly what he’d do when he got there.

SAM WALKED
numbly to the Buick. Janice’s words swirled around his mind, making it hard to focus on any one thing. The late-afternoon sun burned his eyes, and he blinked back the threatening tears.

Nathan turned to him from the driver’s seat. “Are you okay?”

“I want to see Sheldon.” Sam tugged the seat belt over his lap with a bit more violence than necessary.

“I told Tony we’d head over to the New York office.”

“No. I need to see that son of a bitch, Dan Sheldon, with my own eyes and ask him if he killed my father. I want to see his face when he admits my mother’s death was his fault.”

Nathan frowned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “If you don’t take me, I’ll go alone.” He started to open the door. He’d walk to the damn place if he had to.

“Sam—”

“What are you going to do, tie me up? I have to do this. You heard what she said. My parents died for the same reason Emma did, because my father found out something he wasn’t supposed to know about Sheldon. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

It was Nathan’s turn to raise his voice. “Of course. You know how much I hate Sheldon for what he did to Emma. But listen. I know you don’t want to hear this, but even with what Janice told us, we don’t know the whole story. It might not have been Sheldon your father was talking about. Janice simply inferred it later on. And then of course there’s the possibility it’s a coincidence, and even if he did find out about Sheldon, it was still an accident.”

Sam shook his head vehemently. “Bullshit. You heard how upset my dad was about this ‘friend.’ Sheldon must have approached him to keep quiet about Voronkov.” He didn’t even want to think about the affair. He resented Janice for telling him, even though he’d asked.

Nathan exhaled loudly. “I think we should head to another hotel for now. Think about it overnight. Okay? The prison’s a few hours drive, and visiting hours would be over by the time we got there. There’s also the possibility he’ll refuse to talk to you.”

Though Nathan’s reasoning irritated him, Sam didn’t protest as they drove away from Janice’s sad house. His mind was a swirling mess, and he wanted to make it stop. He wanted to lash out, and he wanted to hurt. He needed
something
to keep him from imagining his father alone at his desk, slowly drinking while he tried to think of a way to keep his family safe. Why hadn’t he left town immediately? Why hadn’t he acted sooner?

He was drinking a lot more in those days.
Sam hadn’t known. Had anyone?

By the time they checked into another bland-but-nice hotel off the highway, he could hardly stand to be in his own skin. They passed the hotel bar on the way to the elevator, and he stared longingly at the laughing bartender, who was talking to a couple of travelers who seemed to have hit it off. It all seemed so easy. But waking up with a hangover wouldn’t do anything for his mood, and it wouldn’t bring his parents back.
He was very drunk at that point.

He looked away too late. Nathan had already seen him watching. The concern and love on his face made Sam’s gut twist with guilt. He scowled, hoisted his bag up on his shoulder, stepped inside the claustrophobic space, and felt his stomach lurch as they began the ascent. Being treated like a kicked puppy was starting to wear on his nerves.

Like the place they’d left that morning, the room was overly lavish, but they weren’t exactly on vacation. A huge, comfortable-looking white bed served as the centerpiece, and there was a flat screen on the wall adjacent. Sam wasn’t interested in napping or watching TV. He threw his bag on the bed and unzipped it, then rustled through the front pocket for supplies. He could hear Nathan pacing behind him, scoping out the place for bugs—and not the creepy-crawly kind. Sam might have called him paranoid another day, but given the current circumstances, he almost expected Nathan to find something.

“What are you looking for?” Nathan asked.

Finally Sam encountered plastic. He grabbed the small bottle of lube and held it up with what he hoped was a sexy, rather than manic, grin over his shoulder. “Always come prepared.”

He wriggled his ass and then stood to face Nathan, discarded his jeans and shirt, and pulled down his boxer briefs. His erection sprung free and poked straight at Nathan like a divining rod.

Nathan crossed his arms and kept his eyes focused on Sam’s face. “It’s not a good idea. I think you should put your clothes back on.”

That was it. The last straw.

“I knew it. You don’t want me anymore.” Sam turned away as tears started to well in his eyes. He couldn’t hold them back. It was all too much—the car chase, the cravings, the revelation of Janice’s affair with his father, and this rejection. He thought he’d hit his lowest point when he learned his parents’ deaths might have been murder, but he was wrong.

“Sam, look at me. Of course I want you.”

Sam responded to the commanding tone almost against his will. He saw love and compassion in Nathan’s eyes. He saw trust. His world righted itself as warmth spread through his stomach. He could trust Nathan. He loved Nathan.

“I don’t think now is a good time—”

“Shut up.” Sam stalked across the room—trying to muster as much dignity as he could with his swaying hard-on—and planted himself in front of Nathan, who stood his ground, staring down at Sam with a defiant expression on his handsome face. The difference in their heights made it difficult to appear intimidating, so, in an effort to turn the tables, Sam laced his hands behind Nathan’s head and pulled him down into a bruising, closemouthed kiss. Sam’s teeth pressed punishingly into his lips, and the shock of pain made his cock twitch in response. After a moment of resistance, Nathan kissed Sam back and wrapped his arms tightly around him as their bodies fit together. Their mouths opened and the kiss softened as the hardness in Nathan’s jeans gave him away. Sam reached down, felt for the zipper, and rubbed Nathan’s trapped erection for good measure.

“I think you should stop treating me like a damn five-year-old,” he whispered against Nathan’s lips.

“Well,
I
think we should talk about what just happened.” Nathan grabbed Sam’s wrist to stop the unzipping process, and Sam grunted in disapproval and tried to yank his hand away.

Sam felt his face heat—with anger, not with shame. “I’m sick of talking. I don’t need you to be my therapist. I need you to give me what I need.”

“And what exactly is that?” Nathan’s voice held a hint of the dark promise that always made Sam’s toes curl.

“You know what. I want you to blindfold me and tie me up so I can’t move. I want you to spank me and bite my neck as you fuck me. I want you to use me. I want to forget my own name.” He panted at the last words, already floating as adrenaline and endorphins fired his blood. He rubbed his needy cock against Nathan and whimpered as the rough material of Nathan’s jeans scraped against his excited flesh.

It seemed like Nathan might give in. His eyes kindled, their pupils blown wide, and he relaxed his grip on Sam’s wrist. Sam took advantage of the moment to free himself and continue his pursuit of Nathan’s cock, which was still rock hard. If he could just get it in his hand, Nathan wouldn’t be able to resist.

Nathan stepped out of the embrace, backed away, adjusted himself, and refastened his fly.

“I’m not sceneing with you like this. And I’m definitely not tying you up or hurting you in any way. I don’t think it would end well, and I think you know that too. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk, but I can’t do it. Don’t ask me to.”