Strangely, he understood her hesitation. “Hard to find the words, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“Look, Maria. There are some things you’re never going to understand. Things I can’t even explain. Things I don’t know if…” He sighed. Words escaped him.
“Jeff, if you need to talk—”
He pounded his fist on the table. She jumped.
“Hell, yes, I need to talk. And I need to be silent. And I need so many fucking things…” He buried his head in his hands.
Maria rose. The patter of her footsteps came near, and then her lips touched the top of his head.
“I wish I could help, Jeff. I wish I could chase away those demons for you. I may not be able to, but I could at least try. If you let me in.”
* * *
Thirty-Three Years Earlier
“Are you sure your brother’s not home?”
“Yeah. He went out. On a date I think,” Jeff scoffed. “Some high society deb from Denver who’s in town visiting relatives.”
“Could be you’ll have a new sister-in-law soon.” Max laughed.
“Where are the others?”
“Booker’s home sick. Trey should be here soon.” Max checked his watch. “Jesus, where the fuck is he?”
Jeff scanned the premises. “There he is.”
Trey Dodson loped up, dressed all in black, as they all were. “Hey, sorry I’m late.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Jeff said. “Gramps is still in the hospital, and Wayne’s out. Let’s move and get this over with.”
Jeff keyed open the door, and they went inside Casa Bay.
“No alarm?” Trey asked.
Jeff shook his head. “Nope. Though I’m sure one will be installed first thing tomorrow.”
“Where’s the loot?” Max said.
“In the old man’s den. Come on.”
Jeff led them to Grandpa Norman’s office. The room was spacious. Paintings of livestock peppered the walls, and the furniture was fine mahogany. Papers covered his sprawling desk. Jeff glanced quickly over them, and one caught his eye. Codicil. That was an addition to a will, right? Was Gramps changing his will? Maybe writing him back in? He picked up the paper and scanned through it, squinting his eyes in the darkness. A lot of legal jargon about daughters being married or something.
So he was still disinherited. Fuck the old bastard. Jeff was all in now. He’d get his rightful due one way or another.
“What are you reading that shit for?” Max said. “Let’s get moving. Loverboy might get back early.”
Max was right. Jeff tossed the document in the trash. Gramps no doubt had copies. Or his lawyer did. Who gave a rat’s ass anyway?
He moved behind the desk and removed the bust of the head of Michelangelo’s David—Grandpa’s taste in art was eclectic, the Renaissance and cattle—and some stray books from the top of the big safe. The big bucks wouldn’t be here. They’d be in the wall safe hidden behind the copy of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper. But Jeff had made up his mind to start in this safe. He’d always wondered what Gramps hid inside.
Carefully he turned the combination lock back and forth, hitting each number. He pulled the door open slowly.
“Shine the light over here, Trey,” he said.