Pieces For You (42 page)

"The lack of money is the root of all evil."  -Mark Twain

I entered the kitchen the next morning still dazed after a nightmare-riddled sleep.  Griffin had been there each time I woke with soothing words and comforting caresses.  Thankfully, these dreams were not like the terrors I used to experience, but they were still unpleasant—my brain painting alternative outcomes to the night before.  Griffin was ending a phone call when he noticed me.

“Right, man.  I’m going to talk to her now.  We’ll see you at the hospital.  I’ll text you either way.  Thanks bro, I’m gonna need it.”

He ended the call and picked up two mugs of coffee before leading me to the great room.  When I was settled on the couch, he handed me my coffee and waited for me to swallow a few sips.  Becoming impatient with his lack of explanation, I opened the conversation.

“Who was on the phone?”

“Hunter.”

I guessed right.  This was not going to be good news.

“Did he get the guy to talk?”

“He did.  The attacker was a sub-contractor who rolled on his contact.  The police found the guy last night and Hunter went to question him after he left the hospital.  It took a little time, but Hunter was able to break him.  This contact was actually contracted by someone else who they are still trying to track down, but he knew enough.  Hunter had a unit bring in the source…the guy who ordered the hit.”

He stopped talking and sat down next to me, moving my coffee to the table before taking my hands in his.  His face was completely blank…this was the therapist-Griffin face.

“Lo-baby, it was your father.  Hunter arrested him early this morning.  After speaking with his lawyer, he confessed.  He is being charged with multiple Class A felonies, including conspiracy to commit murder, assault, and kidnapping.”

“What?” I had heard every word he said, but their significance was more than my brain could process.

“We all thought it was Heath behind the threats, so the FBI never looked beyond the Varbeck family.  They looked guilty as sin because they had been paying off witnesses not to testify, and the fact that the threats stopped after Heath’s death seemed like further confirmation.  The FBI was still investigating, but it was put on the back burner when the threats stopped—the DA wasn’t interested in pursuing bribery charges when the case was dead,” Griffin said gently.  “After you were attacked, Hunter knew it couldn’t be the Varbecks; with Heath dead, they had no motive.  Hunter was able to trace the hit back to your father after he interrogated your attacker.”

“He actually confessed?” I asked.

“Yes.  Hunter thinks your father’s attorney recommended he confess.  Because of the ‘preponderance of evidence,’ they will probably try some type of diminished capacity defense.  Your father—”

“Don’t call him that,” I said sharply.  “Do not call that man my father—he’s a hell of a lot of things, but a father is not one of them.”

“You’re right, love, he’s not.”

“Why?  Why would he do it?  Disowning me was fucked up, but killing me…he paid someone to have me killed?”

“And threaten you…he was behind it the whole time.  He admitted he first hired someone to threaten you, and then later contracted the hit.  The Varbecks never had anything to do with it.” 

“So all those ridiculous poetic threats were from my father?  I can’t see him writing those,” I said, confused.

“I doubt he wrote them himself.  Your father hired one of his less reputable associates to threaten you; I guess the guy had a flair for the dramatic.  When the threats didn’t work, he hired a professional hit man to kill you.” 

“I don’t understand.  Why was he trying to kill me?  There was no trial.”

“You are trying to understand something that defies logic, baby.  What he did violates human nature on a level no sane person could ever comprehend.  He’s in police custody now.  They will arraign him tomorrow and Hunter assured me he’ll be remanded without bail.  Hunter also managed to pull some strings if you want to see him.  If there’s anything you need to say, I can take you.”

Did I want to see him?  No—I definitely didn’t want to see him, but I needed to say my piece, then walk away and never look back.

“He probably won’t deign to answer my questions, but there are things I need to say,” I said, determined. 

Griffin pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead.

“Okay, Lo.  We’ll go.  Do you want to finish your coffee first?”

I shook my head.  “I’m too nauseous.”

“Go get dressed.  I’ll make you some peppermint tea to bring in the car.”

“Just hold me for a minute first, please.”

“Anytime.”

I huddled in Griffin’s arms for the next ten minutes, absorbing his strength for the impending face-off.  He had been my lighthouse, leading me to safe harbor without fail.  He’d weathered the storms with me, holding out hope I would find my way to him.  His light never flickered, never went out.  He was my steadfast beacon—my destination.

“I love you,” I whispered, engulfed in emotion and my gratitude, “so damn much.  The forever kind.”

He lowered his arm, causing me to recline, and lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me sweetly.  It was a kiss of appreciation and agreement.

“I love you, Lo-baby—forever.  It will always be you.”

We arrived at Riverhead Prison at noon—high noon, the classic time for an epic showdown.  Yes, I was feeling a tad dramatic.  It was like the movies, high concrete walls topped with barbed wire, and a guard booth built on top of the wall.  Griffin explained the procedure on the drive out, but entering the jail still alarmed me.  Knowing the vast number of criminals contained within the walls—many violent—kept me glued to Griffin’s side.  This was my first time entering a prison and it would be my last.

“You’re not allowed to do anything that gets you thrown in this place, got it?”  I ordered him.  “I’m totally creeped out.”

“Got it.  The brochures are pretty accurate, so I wasn’t exactly planning our next vacation here,” he teased, obviously trying to distract me.

“I can’t believe you came here by choice.  Now I’m questioning
your
sanity.”

“I was on a top secret mission…remember?  I had to avenge your honor, right wrongs, be the sword of justice—”

“Stow your shield, Captain America, I understand.  I would have been even more appreciative if I’d known you were coming somewhere like this.”

“Lo, it’s prison…people are incarcerated here.  What were you expecting?  They aren’t doing arts and crafts to decorate the hallways,” he said with laughter in his voice.

“I don’t know.  There’s no natural light here.  It’s worse than the worst dressing room lighting and everything is white except for a few blue accents.  Even hospital rooms are stylish in comparison.”

“Again, love—prison.  This is for the bad guys.”

I pressed closer to his side when we passed a group of inmates being led by a guard.  Griffin was bigger than most of the prisoners and guards, but I didn’t want to risk getting close enough to be shanked.

Griffin chuckled beside me.

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

“You did and you’re adorable…but less talk about whose ass I can kick and people getting
shanked
,” he said lightly but his caution was clear.  “We are going into one of the private visitation rooms just around the corner.  Are you ready?”

“Just…give me a second,” I said, resting my head against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around me as I gathered my courage to face yet another monster.

“Yo, Doc.”

“Lionel, how are you?” Griffin responded to the disembodied voice booming behind me.

“A’ight.  Lionel don’t play.  Heard yo boy went down?”

“Yeah, I’d say I was sorry to hear it, but I try not to lie.”

“Bitch snitched to da kanga.  Backdoor parole.” 

I raised my head from Griffin’s chest to find his eyes, desperate for a translation.

“Do you mind if I explain?” Griffin asked the guy.

“Yo piece?”

“Yes,” Griff answered, never looking at me.

“Go.”

“Lo, Lionel was one of the inmates I met with while completing my clinical hours.  He wasn’t a fan of Heath, especially after he complained about his treatment in prison.  They aren’t mourning his death.”

Oh, this must be
the
guy.  I felt compelled to say something.  I turned until my back was pressed against Griffin’s front to address Lionel.  Holy shit.  This guy made Griff look like a freaking wimp.

Two barks of laughter rang out, drawing the guards’ attention.

“Thanks, baby.  Every guy dreams of his woman calling him a wimp,” he said with a reassuring squeeze.

“Lionel likes.  Why she here?”

“Her father’s here.”

“He need protection?”

“No,” Griffin replied sharply.  “Let him swing.”

Lionel studied Griffin for a moment. “Sup?”

“Put a hit on her, almost got what he paid for last night,” Griffin answered calmly, but his body tensed behind me.

“Keep straight.  Lionel gots this.”

The guys exchanged a chin nod.

“Nice to meet you, Lionel, and…thanks?” I said, sounding like a complete idiot.

“Shorty’s too sweet for here.”

With that parting comment, he returned to the guard who was waiting discreetly to the side and left.

“Sorry about all that.  You
don’t
disrespect Lionel, even from prison he can make you pay.  He told me you’re too sweet to bring here.  He’s also going to make your father’s life hell. ”

“Oh, that’s…nice of him.”

“I think he has a crush on you,” Griffin said with a smile.  “You ready?”

I nodded and he led me around the corner, opening the door for me.  I walked through to find the man I had once called ‘father’ sitting at a table in the center of the room.  The small spark that had hoped to see remorse on his face was extinguished by his obvious revulsion.

Griffin’s hand gripped the back of my neck, providing support and warmth, reinforcing me.

I waited long minutes for the man before me to speak, but he said nothing.

“Did Mother know?” I asked in a strong and confident tone, not asking for a reply…expecting it.

“Your mother is overtaxed when we have to fire a maid; I wouldn’t burden her with this distasteful necessity.”

Griffin’s hand tightened on my neck painfully before the pressure receded.

“Why?  What would possess you to hire someone to
kill
me?  What did I do to you that justified murder?”

“You wouldn’t understand the responsibility I have as the patriarch of this family—my obligation to protect the sanctity of the Whitney name at all costs.  You never made any effort to understand the legacy of the name, the influence and duty that accompanied the mantle.  You have
never
been a Whitney.  At one point, I was actually convinced you were the product of an affair.  I was actually relieved by the suspicion; it alleviated much of my disappointment.  But even there you failed me—the DNA test was 99.9% conclusive that I contributed to your being.”

“You didn’t answer my question.  What did I do that justified murder?”

“I’ve already told you, Samantha.  I warned you, in fact.  You were intent on testifying against the Varbeck boy in spite of me, jeopardizing the reputation and character of the Whitney name.”

“I was raped,” I screamed at him.  “Do you understand what that means?  Should I get you a fucking dictionary?  I did nothing wrong.  I had the audacity to attend a review session before finals and walk to my car afterwards.  Forgive me for wanting the bastard who took away my choice, broke my body, shattered my spirit, and nearly killed me, to pay for his crime.  Forgive me for wanting to speak for the other girls he succeeded in killing who couldn’t speak for themselves.  You’re right…I’m a selfish bitch like that.”

“Our ancestors were instrumental in founding this country,” he continued as if I hadn’t said anything at all.  “We have thrived in every pursuit since our arrival, garnered the respect of society, and have consistently been leaders in both business and the community.  Do you think sacrifices haven’t been made?  Do you believe you are the first in our prestigious line to experience tragedy?  No, but every member of our lineage who came before had the character to handle their shame privately.  Each one protected the integrity of the Whitney brand.  For nearly four hundred years, the name has remained unblemished.  You, in your small-mindedness, were prepared to throw away four hundred years of sacrifice.”

“How can being a victim of rape possibly jeopardize the illustrious Whitney integrity?”

“Who cares about your damned rape?  It’s inconsequential.  What you fail to comprehend is that the moment you exposed yourself to the defense attorney and media, every second of your life would be scrutinized—displayed for public entertainment.”

“But I have nothing to hide.  I’ve made a few mistakes here and there, but nothing beyond typical teenage behavior.  There was no harm, no deep dark secret in my past that would embarrass the family,” I paused, shaking my head at his nonsense.  What was he so afraid of?  Who cared if people knew that I…

“You…you were worried that the media would turn the microscope on you when my life proved boring.”

His icy stare confirmed my accusation.

“You bastard, you disinherited and disowned me.  When that didn’t work, you sent someone to threaten me.  Then Heath died and I got a reprieve, but as soon as I agreed to the
60 Minutes
interview, you hired a hit man.  What have you done that is worth killing me to hide?”

He said nothing.

“Tell me.  You owe me that much,” I demanded.

I snapped, stepping forward to hit him and knock the defiance off his face, but Griffin’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him, restraining me.

“He’s not going to tell you, Lo,” Griffin said, staring at the sneering man, “but I will.”

Well, that knocked the snide look off his pretentious face.

“Mr. Whitney confessed so quickly that Hunter was suspicious he was hiding something.  Why else would he risk hiring someone to threaten and kill you?  The FBI started digging into your father’s financials to track the payment for the hit, and they traced it to an overseas account.  That’s how they found the secret he was willing to kill you to protect—dumb luck.  Your…Mr. Whitney has embezzled billions of dollars; his crimes rival Bernie Madoff’s.  The Whitneys were bankrupt when you were born.  They liquidated everything possible, but it was never going to be enough.  He used his business connections to begin an investment group and robbed people blind.  No one had a clue.  If he hadn’t paid for the hit from one of the accounts he used to funnel and embezzle money, who knows how long it would have been ‘til someone caught on?  He’s going to spend the rest of his life in prison no matter what, which is why he was willing to confess to the murder and kidnapping conspiracy charges.  He’s hoping to have input on where he’s imprisoned.”