Liam shook his head distractedly as he played with his napkin. “Nah. He said he recognized me because I looked like Dad.”
“Oh.” After a pause, she asked hesitantly, “Do you? Look like Derry, I mean?”
A vivid memory came to him: his father holding out a color photo. The boy in the picture might have been Liam himself, standing on a Harbor Town beach when he was twelve years old, so lean he was almost more bone than flesh, his skin darkened to a golden brown, a cocky little half-smile ghosting his lips.
Of course it hadn’t been Liam, but his father at the same age.
He remembered glancing up from the photo to see the knowing sparkle in his father’s eye; he recalled the rush of pleasure that filled him in that moment…the intangible bond he’d felt with the man who stood before him.
“I look a little like him, yeah,” Liam muttered.
“And you asked Jack about what you saw on the tape?”
Liam nodded. “He said he’d never seen my dad the way that he was on that night.”
“And he knew Derry fairly well, right?”
“My father had belonged to the Silver Dunes Country Club for seven years. He and Jack were friendly.”
“Did he give any theories about why he thought your father was so upset?”
Liam gave her a wry glance. “He said something similar to what Roger Dayson said the other night. Apparently Dad’s bad mood had the same effect as a cornered dog baring its teeth. Jack remembered the way my father barked at him to leave the television alone when he started to change the channel.”
“Did he have the impression that it was just that segment your father was interested in?” Natalie asked.
“He couldn’t recall for sure. The next thing he knew, he saw my father getting up to go. He did say one thing that struck me.”
“What?”
“He said that for a second there, he thought my father looked mad enough to vault over the bar, but he couldn’t decide if my dad wanted to hit him or the television screen. According to Jack, he looked a little wild.”
“That’s so strange. What do you think, Liam?” she asked, leaning forward intently with her elbows on the table. She wasn’t asking idly. It seemed clear from Liam’s somber expression he’d done some wrestling with his thoughts on the matter.
He paused before replying. “That news story was about the corporate takeover, so we researched the companies. But Jack couldn’t see that television screen like I could on that surveillance video—or like my father could. Lincoln DuBois himself was being interviewed for the segment.”
“You think your father could have been upset about Lincoln DuBois? But I thought you said your parents didn’t know him.”
“He’s a celebrity in the financial world, but my parents never mentioned knowing him personally. Is Lincoln DuBois even alive? I never hear about him on the news anymore. He used to be a media favorite, didn’t he? He’s got to be alive—he didn’t look all that old in that television segment.”
“He’s alive.”
Liam’s head shot up with interest. “He is? How do you know?”
Natalie nodded. “I read about it in an old Forbes article while you were combing through the newspaper references this morning. DuBois has had several strokes in the last two years, and I guess they caused some serious functional imp
airments. According to the article, he’s still running the company, but he does so from his Lake Tahoe home. He lives an isolated life.”
Liam’s brows shot up with interest.
“What part of Tahoe?”
“South Lake. Apparently, that’s where he grew up. DuBois comes from money, in addition to creating an empire on his own. His father was a multimillionaire—made his fortune in real estate and cattle. DuBois always kept it as his home base, even though his major corporate hubs are in both San Francisco and New York.”
“You’re brilliant,” Liam mumbled, preoccupied.
“I just read an article. Liam…what’s wrong?” she asked, leaning forward.
He blinked and pushed his chair back. “Nothing. The mosquitoes are starting to bite. Come on, let’s go inside.”