Fall Into Me (Heart of Stone) (16 page)

She
was lying, but it was okay. "I'll have Jensen come around and pick us
up," I said as I moved to get up.

"No,
that's okay. I'll take a cab. Finish your drink."

"Are
you sure? Jensen can take you to Justin's. It's no problem."

Jordan gave me a definite shake of her head. "No need. It's out of your way to take me
back to Brooklyn." Opening her arms, she smiled. "Come here and give
me a hug before I go."

"I'll
see you in a few days, so tell Justin I'm looking forward to spending time with
both of you," I said as she hugged me. I released her and stepped away.
"I know we usually give our gifts on Christmas morning, but yours won't be
in until after that, so get ready to be blown away when it comes in January."

Jordan waved me off. "You don't have to get me anything, Nina. I know you've been
dealing with a lot just before the holidays."

"Forget
that. I have just the perfect gift for you, so get ready. I know you'll love
it!"

Her
phone rang again, putting an end to our goodbyes, and as I watched her walk
out, I saw my phone light up on the table. Excited to finally talk to Tristan,
I swiped the face to see it wasn't a call but an email notification. I tapped
the little envelope and saw a message from Cal asking if we could meet. Since I
was in the city, I figured it was perfect timing and emailed back for him to
stop by The Channel if he was free and able to make it. A minute later, he
replied he was nearby, so I ordered another of those candy sweet martinis and
sat back to wait for him.

Checking
my phone, I saw Tristan hadn't texted again. Disappointed, I quickly texted him
the words
I love you
and hoped that would make him reply. Within fifteen
minutes Cal had arrived but still no text from Tristan.

"I'm
so glad you emailed me, Nina," Cal said as he sat down across the table
from me. He settled into his chair and smiled. "You look incredible. Life
certainly has treated you well."

"Well,
except for that whole car accident and amnesia thing," I joked.

He
looked at me as if he were sizing me up and shook his head. "I don't know.
Maybe forgetting the past is something we all should do because you look
great."

"Happiness
does that for a person. You look pretty good after all these years, so you must
be doing something right too."

In
truth, Cal looked a little haggard. His grey wool coat was old and worn, and
I'd noticed when he took off his gloves that the leather was ripped between his
right thumb and forefinger. He still had those boyish good looks that had
attracted me years ago, but now they were tinged with worry or weariness. I
couldn't decide which.

"I
have to tell you, Nina, that I was surprised at first that you came to see me,
but now I'm so happy we're getting a chance to get reacquainted."

"I
am too, Cal. I think bygones should be left as bygones."

I
finished my drink and a waiter arrived almost instantly to ask me if I'd like
another. I probably shouldn't have, but they tasted so good, so even though I
was already feeling a little lightheaded and giddy, I ordered another martini.

"And
you, sir?"

Cal shook his head and forced his lips into a thin line. "No, thanks." The waiter
moved away from us, and Cal turned to face me. "This is a fancy place. I
don't remember you liking places like this."

I
couldn't tell if the tone in his voice was condemnation or insecurity. Either
way, it made me uneasy to see Cal like this. As if I had to come up with an
excuse why I'd want to eat in a nice restaurant, I said, "This place has
gotten great reviews. I just thought I'd try it and see if it lives up to all
the hype."

The
truth was that I enjoyed restaurants like this now. I could afford them and I'd
learned quickly from Tristan that I deserved to enjoy myself. I wasn't hurting
anyone, so why shouldn't I have a nice meal in a trendy restaurant? As I sat
there silently defending myself and my desire to eat good food, no matter how
expensive it seemed to Cal, he shifted in his chair and seemed to not know
where to put his hands as he moved them from the table to his lap and back
again.

"Cal, you seem uncomfortable. Is something wrong? Is there something you didn't tell me the
other day that I should know?"

He
hung his head and quietly answered, "No, there's nothing more to tell. I
was an ass and deserve anything you say to me."

Reaching
over, I gently touched his sleeve. "It's okay, Cal. Things happen when
you're young. That's why they say people are young and stupid. Nobody ever says
someone's young and wise."

He
frowned at my attempt to make him feel better. "It's just that I have no
right to ask you for anything."

His
voice strained as he spoke the words, and I could have sworn I saw him tear up.
This wasn't the person I remembered at all. He was suffering right there in
front of me, and I couldn't just let that happen.

"What's
wrong, Cal? What's happened to you?"

He
blew the air out of his cheeks and shook his head. "I've had a bad run of
things, Nina. My mother was sick for a long time and passed away just a few
months ago. She always liked you, I think because you were a lot like
her."

"Oh,
Cal. I'm so sorry. Your mother was a terrific lady. I had no idea."

"It's
just been one thing after another, and tonight I found out that my girlfriend
has been seeing someone else and is moving in with him. I just don't know how
I'm going to afford our apartment since I signed the lease thinking we'd both
be paying toward the rent."

My
heart broke at the sight of this sad man sitting in front of me. The boy who'd
broken my heart was now feeling what I'd felt, but it didn't give me any
pleasure. I'd been blessed with a great man in Tristan, and I wanted everyone I
knew to have the same wonderful luck I'd had. I couldn't help Cal out in the
girlfriend department, but I could give him some money to help with his rent. I
had it, and it would be a crime not to pay it forward.

I
reached into my purse and pulled out all the money I had left after paying for
dinner, leaving just enough to pay for my last martinis. Handing him the cash,
I pressed it into his palm. "Take this."

"No,
I couldn't," he weakly protested.

I
understood. He didn't want to be emasculated by an ex-girlfriend he'd recently
asked forgiveness from. "Then consider it a loan. You were right when you
said life has treated me well. It has, but it means nothing if you can't help
out a friend in need. I know it's only a few hundred, but I can give you more
tomorrow."

"Nina,
no. It's okay. This is more than enough. Thank you."

I
squeezed his hand before he moved to pocket the money. "You know how to
contact me if you need more."

He
began to say thank you again, but we were interrupted by Jensen, who suddenly
appeared behind Cal. "Miss, I'm sorry I'm late. The car is waiting just
outside."

For
a moment, Jensen's words confused me, but I realized as he stood there looking
down at my purse as it sat on the table in front of me that he believed he was
safeguarding me. Before I could set his mind at ease, Cal stood and thanked me
again as he quickly headed toward the door.

Tristan's
driver nodded silently at me, and I slipped into my coat to return to the
house. I considered asking him if he planned to mention any of this to Tristan,
but I knew the answer already. Jensen worked for Tristan Stone, not Nina
Edwards, and his employer likely knew all about my friendly loan to my ex.

I
followed Jensen to the car and got into the back, half expecting Tristan to be
sitting there waiting for me. A stab of disappointment hit me when I saw the
car was empty, and as it pulled away from The Channel, I knew I'd have to
explain what I'd just done, but I wasn't worried.

I
hadn't done anything wrong, and once Tristan heard about the hard times that
had befallen Cal, I knew he'd understand. No matter what the rest of the world
saw, in my heart I knew Tristan was a kind soul like me.

Chapter Sixteen

Tristan

I'd
driven halfway back to the house, but I couldn't wait any longer to read Joseph
Edwards' notes. Pulling over at a diner on the side of the road, I bought a cup
of coffee and opened up Nina's father's notebook on the table in front of me. I
took a sip of the drink that tasted like a cross between dishwater and mud and
pushed the cup and saucer away from me. Pressing my phone on again, I brought
up Nina's message telling me she loved me and stared at it, silently promising
to show her how much she meant to me when I returned home.

As
I'd driven here, the need to see what was written in the notebook had been
overwhelming, but now that it sat there in front of me with nothing stopping
me, I hesitated, unsure I could see the truth he'd uncovered about my father
that had gotten him killed. My hand hovered over the tablet, shaking at the thought
of what could be contained in those pages.

I
was no fool. There was no way I'd be able to read the proof of my father's
crime and not tell Nina the entire truth of her father's death, but the memory
of how she'd reacted the last time was like a fresh wound still nearly
splitting my heart in two. I couldn't lose her again, this time possibly
forever.

But
I couldn't live in ignorance not knowing what had happened between Victor Stone
and Joseph Edwards.

Taking
a deep breath in, I swallowed hard and opened the notebook. My eyes flowed over
the page, taking in each word and its meaning.

Stone
Worldwide—Victor Stone—Taylor Stone

I
was surprised to see my brother's name mentioned so prominently at the top of
the first page. Taylor had worked closely with my father in Stone Worldwide's
business, being groomed to take over when he retired, but he was more an office
mate than anything else. At least it had seemed that way.

Atlanta
—October 2008

     -civil
suit—sexual harassment/judge?? Why a problem? Name of judge?

Joseph
Edwards' notes made no sense. A sexual harassment case wasn't particularly
noteworthy in Stone Worldwide. Thousands of employees across the globe meant at
any time someone may feel they had a case, especially considering my father's
proclivity for young women who happened to work for him. Sexual harassment
cases had become commonplace by the time I was old enough to understand much of
anything my father did at work each day.

Had
Taylor been involved in one of those cases? I had a hard time believing that.
If anything, he was the good son, never getting into trouble with drugs, women,
or anything else. He'd graduated with honors from college and gone on to earn
an M.B.A. He was the one who rose everyday before dawn to be ready to leave for
work at six and stayed until late at night, often putting in fifteen hour
workdays.

I'd
been the one who'd been arrested twice for drugs, only getting off when the
Stone family money had conveniently found its way to that local police chief in
northern Jersey. It had been me who'd been carted out of apartments and clubs
by Rogers more times than either he or I wanted to remember, usually costing my
father money to keep the press quiet and women I liked to call girlfriends
pacified so they wouldn't talk about the sex and my all-day coke binges.

As
I remembered those days of my past, I shook my head in disbelief that it could
be Taylor who had some part in anything unsavory. That was my role in the
family—I was the black sheep. He'd always been the golden child, at least as
far as my father was concerned.

October
2008. Taylor and I had been twenty-four then. He was still in graduate school being
the exemplary student he'd always been.

Edwards'
note indicated that something about the judge in the case had been a problem.
What had he meant by that? I continued to read down the page, hoping to
understand any of this.

-Amanda
Cashen—July 1992-May 2008

My
mind raced as I tried to find a memory of anyone with that name, but it didn't
ring a bell. I'd never heard that name. 1992? Had my father had a child with
another woman then and Amanda was the name of the baby? There had always been
rumors that my father had other children. More than once I'd walked in on my
parents fighting and heard my mother accuse him of fathering children with
other women. His response was always the same—a sneer thrown in her direction
as he belittled her claims as the rantings of a pathetic woman who didn't
understand the way of the world for men like him. He never outright denied her
accusations, which I was sure hurt even more than the painful doubts she had
about her husband's love for her.

If
a child named Amanda did exist and Edwards had found out, perhaps making that
public would be reason enough for my father to want him out of the picture. As
I sat there staring down at this mystery female's name, I couldn't imagine that
could be the case, though. The note about a sexual harassment case made an
illegitimate child a non-issue, unless the child was the product of my father
doing something illegal.

I
turned the page after unsuccessfully trying to read a number of notes that
appeared to be simply scribblings and illegible symbols and saw a sentence that
stopped me cold.

Atlanta
2008—gas explosion cafe—end of Stone's problems

     -sexual
harassment case ruled in his favor November 2008

What
did some gas explosion have to do with a sexual harassment case that ended up
going in Stone Worldwide's favor shortly after? Edwards' notes were too vague
for me to understand what he was referring to. I flipped to the next page and
saw one word over and over and in all caps at the top of the page.

TAYLOR

What
had Joseph Edwards meant by writing my brother's name all over the page? None
of this made any sense. I kept going, baffled by what the connection was between
my father's illegitimate child, a sexual harassment case against him, and some
explosion at an Atlanta cafe.

Folded
in half between the next two pages was a newspaper article from the front page
of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution dated October 23, 2008. I laid the paper
out flat on the table. In the center of the article was a picture of a cafe that
looked like it was in the middle of a war zone. The front of the coffee shop
was blown out, leaving a gaping hole in the building. Chunks of concrete lay
everywhere, exposed wires hung low, and remnants of the store that had once
served people their morning coffee lay in pieces inside the building.

Under
the picture read the caption
50 Dead In Rush Hour Explosion
.

My
hands began to shake as I leaned forward to read the report of the bombing. The
words swam in front of my eyes as I struggled to comprehend the horror of what
had happened.

50
men, women and children killed at coffee shop blast. Gas explosion thought to
be the reason.

Investigators
still looking for clues.

Witnesses
report the scene was "pure carnage."

7:38
am the explosion rocked the Corner Cafe one block from the courthouse.

Children
on their way to school killed. Hundreds injured.

Reports
of people smelling gas just before the blast.

Judge
Albert Cashen one of the victims.

I
flipped back through the pages to where the illegitimate child's name was
written.
Amanda Cashen.

There
was no way it was a coincidence that a judge with the same last name as a child
who could be my father's was killed in a gas explosion at a coffee shop near
where he worked. And that he was a judge was likely no coincidence either.

My
mouth tasted like bile as my insides churned at the idea that would explain
this all. My father had the judge in a civil suit murdered. My father had been
a monster, no doubt. Victor Stone was a man who got what he wanted, and if that
required the sacrifice of someone, he wasn't above that. There was a long line
of damage trailing behind him for most of his adult life. I didn't want to
believe any of this, but it was all too easy. My father was like many powerful
men. Any obstacle in his way to what he wanted was overcome or eliminated. If
he hadn't been able to overcome Judge Cashen, then he would have eliminated
him.

I
leaned back against the booth and closed my eyes. The room felt like it was
spinning around me. Taking a deep breath, I tried to push out the images of all
those people lying dead and maimed because of my own father's actions. Children
suffering, their parents devastated, all so Victor Stone could once again slip
out of being held responsible for his behavior.

"Are
you okay? Can I get you more coffee?" I heard someone ask and I opened my
eyes to see the middle-aged waitress standing over me with a look of concern on
her plain face.

I
shook my head and mumbled, "Just a water, please."

She
left me sitting there, my stomach sick as I turned the idea of my father's
crime over and over in my mind. I didn't want to know any more. Not only had he
killed the judge and Nina's father, but he'd killed innocent men, women, and
children who'd never heard of him just going about their daily lives on their
way to work and school.

My
phone vibrated in my coat pocket, and I reached in to see a text from Daryl. I
read it, feeling like the Universe had suddenly decided it was time to pile on.
Need to meet. Got some interesting pics of loverboy you want to see.

A
hollow feeling took over my insides as my mind raced with thoughts of Nina with
her ex again. I didn't want to think about that now.
Meet tomorrow at noon
in my office.

The
waitress returned with my water, placing it down and patting my shoulder as she
walked away. I had to continue reading Joseph Edwards' notes, no matter how
sick what he'd found out made me. After downing a big gulp of water that tasted
faintly of chlorine, I flipped to the next page of his tablet.

Jessica
Cashen—3:30 pm 1/6/09  832 Sturges Way Alpharetta

The
rest of that page was filled with my father's and Taylor's names, along with
Albert and Amanda Cashen's names linked with arrows showing how Edwards had
attempted to figure out the connection between these four people. In the center
of this drawing was one word followed by a question mark.

Child?

Was
it a simple case of an illegitimate child that had led to the death of so many?

I
read over the note about Jessica Cashen again and guessed Edwards had arranged
to meet with her. Those were the details that would tell me what I needed to
know.

Two
empty pages later, I found his notes from his meeting with Jessica. I read the
words, but they didn't sink in. I couldn't comprehend them, my mind unwilling
to accept the truth of them.

Doubts
it was a coincidence

Taylor
and Amanda—together for months, according to Jessica

Found
out she was pregnant March 2008—told Taylor soon after

 
Refused
to see her or answer her calls—begged to see him but nothing—devastated became
depressed

I
knew what was coming next. Even so, when I turned the page, the words hit me
like I'd crashed into a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour.

Hanged
herself May 12, 2008—3 months pregnant

     -father
found her in the basement

Jessica
Cashen's story of how her sister died and how her father blamed Taylor for her suicide went on and on for lines down the page, but I couldn't read
anymore. I pushed the tablet away in disgust, my heart sick from what I'd read.

The
person described in these pages wasn't someone I knew. Taylor had always been
the good son. He'd never even really dated many women, sticking with one shy,
rather nondescript girl he met freshman year in college. My mother had always
said he'd marry her, have children, and live happily ever after, unlike me, who
had no stability in his life and refused to even consider any kind of happily
ever after that didn't involve late nights and a different female for each one.

Taylor
and I had never been as close as twins were supposed to be, but I thought I had
known him, at least. Never in my wildest nightmares could I have imagined he was
this person. Amanda Cashen had been a girl—fifteen years old. What the fuck had
he been doing with her?

For
the first time a horrifying thought settled into my mind. Had Taylor raped her?
Jesus Christ! Even if she had agreed to sleeping with him, she was just a
child, a minor he had no business touching.

I
had to get out of there. The dingy yellow diner walls felt like they were
closing in on me, suffocating me. Scooping up the notebook and newspaper
article, I threw a twenty on the table and got the hell out. By the time I
reached my car, it was all I could do to toss it all onto the front passenger
seat before I bent over behind the rear bumper and puked up coffee, water, and
whatever the fuck I'd had for lunch. I stood there hunched over in the cold
night air until there was nothing left in my stomach and all I had left was dry
heaves that made my ribs ache in pain.

Finally,
I stood up and wiped my mouth, thankful for the bracing December air against my
face. Swallowing hard, I tried to push every terrible word I'd read from my
thoughts, but I couldn't. All I saw over and over was the image of my brother
on top of some helpless girl and my father standing behind them coldly ordering
the death of Albert Cashen.

I
floored it, hitting over a hundred and twenty at times as I raced home. I
wanted to be as far away from that storage unit and that diner, but it was no
use. Everything I'd found out stayed with me, and I feared it would never leave
me.