have been appealing in anything other than the plain gray pantsuit she wore. It was as if she’d deliberately set out to fade into the woodwork.
“That’s right...” she began, but Bart Gordon’s voice ran over hers like a steamroller.
“The idea of it. We’re the ones with a complaint. Here I was, giving the kid a second chance, and he goes and brings the worst kind of publicity down on the firm.”
Her brother was dead, and he was worried about publicity. Kate’s fingers tightened into fists. Before she could cut loose, she happened to catch a glimpse of the receptionist’s face. Avid, blatant curiosity—an eagerness, even, to see a drama unfolding in front of her.
And more, perhaps? If Nikki was glad to see the apparently forgotten situation raked up, that might mean she knew something.
“You don’t mean that.” Lina Oberlin’s voice seemed to hold a warning for her volatile boss. “I’m so sorry.” She touched Kate’s arm lightly. “We were all stunned by what happened to your brother. Jason was such a nice boy. I’m sure he was happy here. Perhaps you and I could have a quiet talk later?” She glanced at Gordon, as if to ensure that he wouldn’t burst out again.
“I’d appreciate that.” Kate let herself be led to the door. She couldn’t accomplish anything more here now, but she wasn’t dissatisfied with this first encounter. Outright anger was more revealing than bland sympathy.
Her presence angered Gordon. Why? And why did Lina Oberlin feel the need to intercede? Mere politeness, or something more?
And what about the receptionist? She’d have to make a point of talking to Nikki away from the office, little though she wanted to satisfy the girl’s keen curiosity. She didn’t doubt that if there was something to tell, Nikki would seize the chance to be involved.
THE FEW BELONGINGS Kate had brought with her were quickly unpacked and stowed away in the cottage. She slid a suitcase into the back of the bedroom closet to get it out of the way. The rest of her things had gone into storage in Baltimore.
She hadn’t taken anything from Tom Reilley’s house except for Jason’s things. The rest had gone to a sale. The fewer reminders of life there, the better, as far as she was concerned.
Jason had probably felt the same way when he’d left his father’s house for the last time. It couldn’t have held too many happy memories for him. Although she hoped he might have cherished, as she did, the after-school hours they’d spent at home together.
Kate walked back into the living room. The cottage was small and compact. The living room had just enough space for a television, sofa and chairs in one end and a bookcase and desk at the other, where she’d immediately set up her computer. Jason would no doubt have set up in the same place. He couldn’t bear to be off-line, and he wanted a laptop for gaming.
If a person liked cottage style, the place was perfectly decorated, with cheerful chintz fabric on the furniture, white end tables and Cape Cod curtains on the windows. There was a small kitchen with a nook for a table and chairs, and a bedroom and bath. The shrubbery and vines she’d noted on the outside increased a sense of isolation, especially where they brushed against the windows.
It was quiet—too quiet for her tastes. She was used to the constant noise and movement of the city. This much solitude would take some getting used to.
Jason wouldn’t have minded it, she knew. As introverted as he’d been, he’d have welcomed it. Close contact with other people stressed him almost beyond bearing. College dorm life must have been a nightmare for him. It had taken time and maturity for her to understand that, but Tom never had. He’d always insisted Jason could be like other kids if he just tried harder.
Small wonder Jason had taken refuge in his fantasy world. There, he could be in control. He could shut out the outside world and focus on the voices in his imagination. If she’d understood that earlier, if his father had grasped it at all...
She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t go back. All she could do for Jason now was find out why he’d died, and the key to that had to be in his video diary.
Reluctantly, Kate turned her laptop on. The video diary had been Jason’s closely guarded secret. She’d known it existed, but she’d never had so much as a glimpse of it until two weeks ago, when she’d started clearing Tom’s house for the sale. It still felt as if she were violating Jason’s privacy by watching it.
She clicked the diary file, and Jason’s face appeared on her screen, looking as he’d so often looked in reality—soft brown hair standing on end as if he’d been running his fingers through it, hazel eyes magnified by his dark-rimmed glasses, his sensitive mouth unsmiling.
The first time she’d watched it she hadn’t been able to get all the way through even one entry—she’d been crying too hard. It wasn’t that much easier now, but at least she was able to control the tears. Now a session of trying to understand just left her wrung out and exhausted, her throat tight, her eyes burning.
Even if it hadn’t been for the grief, understanding would have been difficult, due to Jason’s refusal to be ordinary in referring to people. He almost never used names, instead dubbing the people he met with the identities of the mythic characters from his favorite books and games. Some Kate could understand a little, like the characters from fairy tales or Tolkien’s books, while others left her banging her head against the wall.
Now that she’d met the cast of characters at Laurel Ridge Financial, she might have a chance of identifying the people he referred to. Maybe even begin to understand what was happening in his life that disturbed him so toward the end of that summer that he would have turned to pills to dull the pain. Or to end it permanently.
She’d like to believe the overdose had been accidental. Unfortunately, she couldn’t convince herself of that. Jason had been clean for so long. He knew, if anyone did, the results of combining alcohol with those strong prescription meds.
Telling her stepfather her feelings would just have made the whole situation worse. Better to keep her opinion to herself until—unless—she knew for sure.
She clicked the video to start it, and Jason’s soft, diffident voice sounded, wrenching her heart.
“The King was upset today, and I’m not sure why.” Jason’s eyes were serious, concerned. This had been about midway through his internship. She paused the tape and pulled out a notebook to jot down her impressions.
The King. Well, that would probably be Bart Gordon, wouldn’t it? He seemed to be running things now.
But what had been his position relative to Russell Sheldon? She didn’t know, and such a simple thing could mean a world of difference in interpretation. She noted a query—find out who was in charge when Sheldon was still with the firm. Probably anyone would know. Like Mac Whiting, for instance, but she dismissed the thought. He was the last person she’d go to for help.
A firm knock on the door interrupted her line of thought. Mrs. Anderson again? She’d already been here twice, once with a freshly laundered blanket and again with a loaf of pumpkin bread. It was easy to see why she’d gotten on Jason’s nerves.
Kate got up, then turned back and closed the file she’d been watching. No one need know about the diary, not now, maybe not ever.
She
