Blind Spot (Blind Justice Book 1)

by Adam Zorzi

  Rob closed his eyes and shook his head.

  Suzanne opened her mouth, but Jill rested her hand on her shoulder. “Let him speak, Suzanne.”

  “Dad's dead. Heart attack.”

  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

  Jill, who stood between Dan and the sofa, threw herself into Dan's arms to prevent him from tackling Rob. “Dan, your father's dead. Rob wouldn't lie about this.”

  He could be wrong. Maybe he wasn't lying, but he was wrong. Dad wasn't dead. He'd just seen him Sunday afternoon. Less than forty-eight hours ago.

  Dan sat in the chair Rob had vacated. Tears flowed down his face onto his shirt. Between fits and starts with prompting from Jill, Rob managed to say that one of their dad's golf buddies had called him.

  “Dad played nine holes of golf. They'd had an eight o'clock tee time. When they'd finished, the foursome went to the clubhouse for iced tea. It was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. Dad was talking and then he wasn't. He fell headfirst onto the table and then his chair tipped over. Someone performed CPR, but it was too late. No warning. No fix. No time.”

  “That can't be right. He has acid reflux. Didn't he go to the hospital? He probably has a bad case of indigestion. Or heat exhaustion. It must be in the eighties there.”

  “No, Dan. He's dead.”

  Dan stood. “Look,” he held out the picture he'd taken of his parents before they left for the wedding Saturday night and framed last night. His dad wore a custom tuxedo tailored twenty years ago that still fit. His mother wore a pretty lace dress that accented her silver hair against a light tan. Diamonds twinkled in her ears. They were holding hands. They'd been married almost sixty years and still looked happy. “That was three nights ago. He's not dead.”

  Jill sat on the ottoman in front of Dan offering the Scotch he'd poured. “I'm sorry, Dan.” He sipped and tried to make his mind work. He couldn't. He kept bumping against a barrier that said his father was dead.

  When Rob drifted into sleep. Suzanne left to speak to the EMS technicians. Jill sat holding Dan's hand. “I'm so sorry, Dan. It's terrible news. Kaitlyn's going home with Sofia after school. She can stay there this afternoon.”

  Katie. She'd be waiting at school exactly at one forty-five. He put his face in his hands and sobbed. How would he tell Katie? She was closer to his father than Jill's because she saw him at least once a week. Aside from living in Charleston, George Carter was a reserved man. Sometimes, George acted like he hadn't raised three daughters. He seemed more at ease with his grandsons.

  Dan's mind finally lit on his mother. She must be devastated. She needed her sons. Maybe he and Rob should fly to Florida so she wouldn't have to fly to Richmond alone. He started choking. Jill handed him water. He greedily drank it and asked for a refill.

  He could hear Suzanne and Jill talking in the kitchen, but Jill returned quickly with a glass of water.

  “What about Mom?”

  “She hasn't spoken to anyone except the wife of the friend who called Rob. I think her name is Barbara. They're both with her so she's not alone. Once you feel up to it, one of you should call her.”

  He couldn't. He couldn't talk to his mother if everyone thought his father was dead. Rob would have to do that. Rob was the one who made up this story. He'd have to be the one to fix it. Dan had enough to deal with. Mørk had arrived.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Disappointment. Great disappointment. You're a great disappointment. I'm embarrassed you're my son.” Those words—the last his dad spoke to him—whirred in Dan's head like a bat banging against the walls of an attic.

  Dan cried silently as he sat at the far end of the row of folding chairs with green canvas slipcovers to identify family next to the open grave at the cemetery. The green canvas awning provided shelter from the sun, but Dan sweltered in his navy tropical wool suit in the Florida heat. The smell of dirt, freshly mowed grass, and sweat combined with side effects of two new anti-depressants nauseated him. Jill, who sat to his right, held his hand. She, in turn, had her arm wrapped around a sobbing Kaitlyn.

  “Don't put Granddad in the ground,” Katie had begged in the white limo as they were driven to the cemetery. “He likes to be outdoors. He can't be in the dark.”

  Dan's mother had given Katie a wan smile. “Kaitlyn, that's just Granddad's body. His spirit is free and soaring and living right inside you and me and your dad and uncle. This is just an earthly show of respect.”

  How could his mother be so wise and kind when he felt like screaming his lungs out. Goddammit, the last time he'd seen his father they'd fought about Bella. Five days later—Thanksgiving Day—he was front row at his father's burial. His dad hadn't taken those words back and now, he never would.

  The officiant stopped speaking. Dan wasn't sure what to do next. His mother closed her eyes and rested her head on Rob's shoulder after the officiant clasped his hands over hers. The man made his way up and down the row offering his hand to each of them. Dan stared at it dumbly. He didn't want to shake hands with this man he didn't know who had just said words that allowed his father to be lowered into the ground. Jill shook her head at the officiant and he went away.

  A crying Katie stood with a pink rose in her hand, walked to the casket, kissed the petals and placed it on top. She ran back to her seat and buried her face in her mother's shoulder.

  The ushers signaled the family to stand and proceed to the waiting limos. They did. His mother left first, leaning heavily on Rob. Suzanne followed between her two sons. Jill and Katie were next. Dan stood motionless in front of his chair. He couldn't force himself to move. Jill leaned down to speak to Katie, who ran ahead and grabbed Suzanne's hand. Jill walked back and grabbed Dan's hand in both of hers. “Come, Dan. He's not here. Come back to the family.”

  He'd never loved her as much as he did in that moment.

  ***

  Dan didn't know the details of how he found himself at the funeral in Florida. Jill made it happen. She handled logistics and took care of him. Although she didn't seem frazzled, she must have rushed that Tuesday to change flights during the busiest travel period of the year, pack for him and repack for Katie and herself, and find a place for Abbie to stay. She must have made dozens of phone calls with tough ones to his department head at work and her parents. She found a suites hotel near his parents' villa and rented a car.

  “Are the meds helping?” She sat on the bed where he lay in their freezing hotel room after the funeral. She'd picked up the suit he'd flung on the carpet and hung it properly on a hanger behind the door to the sitting room. He'd yanked it off and put on running shorts and a tee shirt before lying on the pink and green duvet covering the bed. Jill held the tie he'd dropped on the floor on her lap and smoothed it flat.

  She took his right hand in hers. His skin was especially sensitive during the early days of Mørk's nastiest appearances. Dan felt comforted by having his hand held, but couldn't stand to be touched anywhere else. He felt like he was being shot through with electricity until medication calmed his nervous system. Mostly, he felt leaden. Talking tired him.

  “Not really. I'm still in the side effects stage.”

  “Headache, nausea, and fatigue?”

  “All three.” He closed his eyes. “Light hurts my eyes.”

  “Dr. Spellman said the meds were the most powerful he could prescribe without hospitalizing you. He said you might have short-term memory loss. You definitely sleep a lot.”

  He knew exactly what to expect. The worst episode he'd had took three years of his life before he recovered. Bella. That was when Bella left him twenty-five years ago. The short episodes since then usually took only two or three weeks before he fully recovered.

  “It's Thanksgiving Day. Tell me again why Mom had the funeral today. It's a holiday.”

  “That's why she chose it. She didn't want to wait another day just because it was a holiday. After a morning funeral, their friends could spend the day as planned. She didn't want to endure a funeral reception with lots of p
eople.”

  Dan nodded. He hated the idea of funerals. Bella considered them barbaric. Why torture the family? There was no reason to force those most bereaved to follow a schedule. Bury the useless body and take comfort where it could be found.

  “Why Florida? I don't remember.”

  “Everything was set by the time we arrived with Rob and Suzanne late Tuesday night. Your parents pre-arranged their funerals, including buying burial plots, in both Florida and Richmond. Your dad was pragmatic. Statistically, he expected to die first and didn't want your mom to have to travel no matter where it happened. They had close friends in both places and the rest of us could come to Florida. She felt the same about him.”

  “They didn't tell us?”

  “No. Rob said he didn't know, either.” She kicked off her shoes. “Dan, your parents were independent. Once they had the two of you out of the nest, they didn't feel obliged to put anyone ahead of the other. They didn't feel the need to consult you and Rob about their life. It's healthy. Selma's in a place where she shared happy times with your dad and is surrounded by friends.”

  Huh. This sounded a lot like the conversation he and Jill had last Thanksgiving when he thought the worst that could happen was his parents moving away. Jill said then his father was a good planner. Streamlining at their own pace made things easier for his parents and ultimately for Rob and himself. He still didn't agree. If they'd stayed in Richmond, his mother would be in the family house with her children and granddaughter nearby. What he wanted hadn't mattered. Mørk had paid a short visit then, too.

  “Are you going to nap for a while?” Jill asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Will you be okay if I go to the pool? I'd like to get some exercise. I'll take my phone and leave the number right next to the bed. Call me on the hotel landline, and I'll be back pronto.”

  “Why? Why am I calling you on the hotel landline?”

  “You couldn't find your cell Tuesday before we left. It doesn't matter. I'm told people managed without having a phone attached to them twenty-four seven for centuries.”

  “Okay. I'll use the landline. Got it.” Tears started flowing.

  Jill was an athlete. Sitting as much as she had for the past few days probably had her craving activity, but she'd deprive herself of something as simple as going to the pool if he needed her.

  Dan squeezed her hand. “I'm fine. Go do laps.”

  She slipped her hand out of his. “I promise to wear my Speedo training suit and not flirt with any cabana boys.”

  He managed a smile. “I don't think this place is snazzy enough for cabana boys.”

  She winked at him. “Call me. I mean it, Dan.”

  Dan deliberately closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at this woman who trusted him and took care of him. Liar. Cheat. Liar Cheat.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dan knew attending a buffet lunch for family and his parents' close friends at the villa Saturday was a bad idea. He didn't know just how bad.

  “It's a good thing they got rid of that albatross in Richmond. It's a relief to Selma not to have to handle selling it alone.”

  “What?” Dan must have misheard one of his parents' neighbors. He'd lost his ability to be polite. His social veneer was not highly polished during one of Mørk's visits. He didn't say niceties like “I beg your pardon.”

  “Selma won't have to rattle around in it alone or deal with an estate sale and putting the house on the market. Last year's real estate market was much better for sellers. Your dad had a great sense of timing.” The man made a toast with his bottle of cola to his father's business acumen.

  “I can't believe you're saying that to me. My father just died and you're talking about real estate prices in Richmond?”

  The man's eyes widened against his tan leathered face. “Sorry for your loss,” he mumbled and walked away.

  Rob grabbed his arm. Dan flinched and jerked it away. Too late. His nerves were shocked raw He was wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt that left his forearms bare. Jill had suggested wearing a cotton long sleeved shirt, but he was too hot. He'd been sweating since he arrived in Florida.

  “What's wrong with you? He was only making conversation. You're embarrassing yourself. And Mom.”

  “Like you're one to talk.” He started to turn away when Rob grabbed his arm again. “Stop it, asshole. That hurts.”

  Suzanne was beside them in seconds. She handed car keys to Rob and ordered them to go for a drive or to the beach or a bar until they could behave themselves.

  Scuffing his feet along the glistening cement/mineral mix driveway and kicking at stray gravel, Dan reluctantly followed Rob and got in the passenger seat of a white rented SUV. Apparently, no one drove a car in a color other than white in South Florida. White wasn't even a color. Neither said a word until they had parked along AIA, fed the meter with whatever loose change they found in their pockets, and entered Atlantic Dunes Park on the ocean. The park was small and used mostly by locals. The picnic tables they passed on their way to the sandy stretch were all taken by families.

  “No chairs,” remarked Dan. He had on a baseball hat and his darkest sunglasses to protect his eyes against the bright sunlight. The air smelled salty. At least there wasn't much of a breeze. He'd feel like he was being burned alive if sand blew on his bare face and arms.

  “I've got beach towels, bottled water, and a Thermos of cucumber water. Sports drink for you.” Rob kicked off his shoes and socks, rolled up his khaki pants to reveal pale ankles and feet, spread out a five foot beach towel with a giant pink flamingo against a palm tree background and sat. He tossed the other towel to Dan who sat on it without unrolling it.

  “What's with you? You're sitting at a beautiful beach on a rolled towel like you're at a yoga class with your tennis shoes on looking like you're in prison.”

  Dan so wanted to wring Rob's neck. This was all his fault. He started the rumor that Dad had died and now everyone believed it. If they'd stayed at the villa a few more minutes, Dad would've walked in with a smile and a pleasant greeting for everyone. He'd sit in one of the wicker chairs on the lanai and apologize for the confusion.

  “What's wrong?” Rob repeated.

  “Where do I start? Aside from this whole business with Dad, Mørk is here. You, more than anyone, know what that means. Every time you touch me I feel like I'm being electrocuted. I'm irritable and have a killer headache.”

  Rob unbuttoned his shirt. “That's no excuse for being rude to Mom's friends. Jill said you're on meds.”

  “That I started barely four days ago. I'm still in the side effects stage. I've got ten more days before I might—just might—feel some therapeutic benefits. In the meantime, I want to kill myself, you, and anyone who gets in my way. Like that jerk who was talking about what a great deal Dad got on the house in Richmond.”

  “You've got a fixation on that house. You need to let that go.” Keeping his eyes straight ahead staring at the smooth ocean, Rob drank from a litre-size bottle of water. “Both of us are hurting, you know, not just you. Mom's lost the man she loved since she was sixteen so suddenly she didn't get a chance to say good bye. With an early tee time, Dad left without waking her. He let her sleep in. She never got that last kiss. Mom's heartbroken, but she has innate good manners that prevent her from alienating everyone around her.”

  “I wouldn't know.” Dan looked around for something to throw, but saw nothing. Not even an abandoned Kadima ball. “You're the one who's staying with her. You're the one she talks to. You're the one she physically leans on. I might as well be invisible.”

  “You're depressed and heavily medicated. She knows that. She's not going to add to your health problems. Give her a break. Give Jill a break, too.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Rob couldn't possibly be more of an asshole if he tried.

  “It means,” said Rob digging his toes deep into the sand at the end of his towel, “that you've done nothing but complain since you got here. Hell, you were eve
r rude to the clergyman who conducted the funeral service.”

  Dan stood and immediately regretted it. Dizzy. He sat back down on the rolled towel. “We're in frigging Florida. Why couldn't Dad be buried at home? Why did we all have to travel here? The funeral was on Thanksgiving Day. That makes no sense. It's my favorite holiday. Why we had to have a funeral with all those strangers is beyond me. Bella said they were barbaric. She was right.”

  Dan turned to stare at him. “Bella? Bella Davis? What does she have to do with this?”

  “Nothing.” Dan looked down at the sand in front on him. A tiny sand crab crawled away from him.

  “Drink this, Dan.”

  He took the Thermos from Rob and drank what tasted like some sort of blueberry flavored electrolyte drink. He spit it out. “Give me the bottled water.” Rob quietly handed him the cold bottle. Dan reached in his pocket, took out a blue tablet and put it under his tongue. He closed his eyes.

  “What on earth does Bella Davis have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing, Rob. We got into a discussion of funerals one day in college—somebody's grandmother died and had to go home for the funeral—and Bella said they were barbaric. I think all of her grandparents died before she graduated high school. She said funerals tortured the family rather than comforted them. That popped into my mind Thursday. She was right. I feel like I'm being tortured on top of Dad dying.”

  Rob looked relieved. He probably thought Dan was hallucinating or time travelling or couldn't tell Bella and Jill apart and wondering if he was going to have to find the nearest psych hospital. The explanation seemed to satisfy him.

  “Rob, I've got to get out of the heat and sun. Take me anywhere that's dark and air-conditioned.” He stood, snatched the car keys off Rob's towel, and strode to the car.