He nodded.
“Then you believe the fire was intentionally set?”
Again, he nodded. “They didn’t say anything on the news about the investigation against my father?” he asked.
“No . . . or if they did, not in the portion of the news I heard. They didn’t mention anything about it. Why do you think someone torched the warehouse? Are you worried it will cast blame on your father?”
“Yeah,” he stated bluntly. “Pretty damned convenient.”
“So,” Sophie began cautiously, “you think the explosion was meant to hide evidence?”
“Or cover up the fact that there wasn’t any evidence to be found.” His stare on her felt as incising as a surgical laser.
“What? You mean you think the FBI put a bomb in that warehouse?” she asked incredulously.
She saw his muscular throat tighten as he transferred his gaze to the lake. “You do realize the FBI was there last night?”
“I thought I heard someone shouting. I wondered ...” Her voice trailed off as she considered. “Are you sure it was them, Thomas?”
“Yeah. I saw Fisk.”
“I can’t believe that,” Sophie stated. “Surely the FBI isn’t in the business of blowing up buildings. It doesn’t make any sense. Given what you told me about those agents’ visit, they had evidence from financial data that proved that Mannero was engaging in laundering money and connected him to the mob. The IRS had alerted them to that fact. Why would they want to destroy any further evidence of his possible illegal bookkeeping practices or potential money trails by destroying all the physical data at the warehouse?”
He glanced at her sharply. “I told you that you were too trusting. Do you really believe the FBI never does anything under the table? That every agent’s a boy scout? Have you been reading the papers, Sophie? Watching the news? Top people on the state and federal level have been riding the FBI to shut down the Chicago Outfit, once and for all. Maybe the evidence the FBI got from the IRS was sufficient to arrest Douglas Mannero, but it sure as hell wasn’t any connection between Mannero and my father. The feds were so desperate, they even stooped low enough to try and get me to make a connection. They don’t have any rock solid evidence against my dad, but they’re going to do whatever is necessary to make a bulletproof indictment—one with no holes in it. Do you think Fisk would hesitate about destroying evidence that would go against the case he’s building against Joseph Carlisle? The agents who finally break the Chicago Outfit are going to be up for one hell of a promotion. Besides, that explosion makes it look like a criminal was covering his tracks . . . it casts public suspicion precisely where Fisk wants it: on my father.”
Sophie just stared at him, unsure of what to say. Thomas must have sensed her doubt.
“It wouldn’t have had to be the feds, you know,” he said. “It could have been anyone who was trying to cast my father in a bad light.”
“Thomas, you were almost killed in that explosion,” Sophie reminded him softly.
His glance at her was a little impatient, as though she’d missed the point entirely. Perhaps she was missing the point, but that didn’t change the fact that Thomas had been feet and seconds away from being blasted into oblivion.
A shiver went through her at the frightening thought. His eyes narrowed on her.
“Have you heard anything else about the investigation, Sophie? Talked to anyone about it?”
“No,” Sophie replied. “We’ll make sure and catch the news tonight, if you like.”
Her rapid heartbeat eased in the silence that followed. Thomas resumed his stare at the golden lake. They began to slowly rock back and forth on the bench, the rhythmic squeak of the metal runners on the gliders creating a lulling sensation. The only other noise that reached their ears was the gentle breeze stirring the tops of the trees and the birds’ occasional melodious communication with one another.
After several calming minutes, Sophie began to wonder how she’d gotten so unsettled in the face of Thomas’ anxiety when their surroundings were the epitome of peace and beauty. She knew Andy’s first concern was her safety, but she shouldn’t have let him get to her with his dire warnings.
“Any places like this from your childhood?” Sophie asked him in a hushed tone.
For a stretched moment he didn’t answer, and she wondered if he’d even heard her. Then he released a long breath.
“No. Not really, but it was beautiful where I grew up. We had a huge backyard. My mother—Iris Carlisle—belongs to the Lake Forest Gardening Club. When I first came to live with them, she’d scold Ricky and me for fooling around back there, hitting baseballs or practicing tackles or setting off one of Ricky’s rockets.” His mouth twitched slightly, but his eyes remained glued to the lake, lost in his memories. “So at first I thought that garden was just a huge pain in my ass, all that fussy stuff I had to be careful around, the fountains and sculpture and trellises . . . the thousands of flowers. Then, one day I was out there at twilight—must have been about twelve years old,” he recalled gruffly. “And all of a sudden . . . Iris’s garden was magic.”
Tears burned her eyes, for some reason, but she couldn’t look away from his stark profile. It didn’t matter. His gaze remained fixed on the lake, as though it were a mirror to his past.
“Iris must have noticed me standing out there alone,” he continued gruffly, “because she came out of the house. I pointed to this huge, purple flower and asked her what it was, and she told me it was a hydrangea. I kept asking about other flowers, even though I really didn’t give a damn about flowers or their names. I just liked seeing her face when I asked her. I think that may have been when I really started to let her in. She wasn’t my mother, but she was something different. Something special.”
“You came to really love her, didn’t you?”
His low grunt was an assent.
“It must have been so hard for you . . . to lose your parents so young . . . to suddenly be thrust into a whole new world.” She took a sip of wine when she realized her heart had begun thumping against her breastbone, as though in a gentle reminder. “And was it so difficult for you . . . to accept your father as well?”