He wanted to straighten her out but good, but instead, what came out of his mouth was, “I eliminated the scum who hurt Emma.”
His voice was defensive, with maybe even a hint of a whine. It amazed her and heartened her. “Yes, I know. That’s why I haven’t already called the cops. Do you know something, Dad? I don’t think you’re all bad. You tried to protect family. That’s something in your favor. A very big something. Do you agree, Dad? It stops here and now?”
Mason Lord looked down at his long white fingers. The flesh looked loose on the back of his hands. Slowly, he raised his head. Molly was standing quietly in front of him, her wild red hair pulled back and fastened with a gold clip against her nape.
Her ears, he thought, her ears were Alicia’s. He’d always thought Alicia had beautiful ears. He heard her say again, her voice calm and low, “Do you agree, Dad?”
The phone rang sharp and loud beside his left hand.
“Answer it,” Molly said, looking at her watch. “It’s Rule Shaker, right on time. End it, Dad.”
Maybe it was time to end it all. She had guts, his guts, to come in here and face him down.
Well, what the hell. He picked up the phone and said to a man he hadn’t spoken to in twenty years, “Rule. It’s Mason Lord.”
Epilogue
“IT’S A BOY,” Ramsey called out. Both Molly and Emma came running into his study from the kitchen. He pressed the speaker button and put the phone down.
“Congratulations!” Molly and Emma shouted in unison. Emma’s Dalmatian, six-month-old Kenny, barked madly, and jumped against Ramsey’s leg. “When? How long? What’s his name?”
Sherlock laughed, raucous and full-bodied, loud on the speaker. “His name is Sean Franklin Savich and he wailed his lungs out as he slid into Dillon’s hands. He’s big and healthy and everything’s just great. Dillon came through like a champ, kept me up and walking around until I finally told him I’d punch his lights out if he didn’t let me lie down and yell at him.”
Emma wanted to know when they’d bring Sean out so she could play with him. Soon, Sherlock told her, very soon.
When Ramsey hung up the phone, he sat down in his dark brown leather chair and pulled Molly onto his lap. Then he brought Emma down on Molly’s lap, wrapping his arms around both of them. It was a routine all of them were used to. He looked at the wall across from his chair. There were three neoimpressionist paintings hanging there, selected by him and Molly together over the past several months.
“I got a request from my law clerks and my secretary today, all three of them, that they want to see Emma,” he said, kissing Molly’s ear. “It’s been at least a month, they said. They said I was being selfish with her. So, guys, would you like to come down to my office? Emma, you’ve got a holiday Monday so you won’t miss any school. What do you say?”
“Will Mrs. Burger have some of her lemon bars?” Emma asked.
Ramsey laughed. “Greed always wins out. I’ll ask her.”
“If the answer’s yes, then count us in,” Molly said, and kissed Emma’s ear.
When Emma jumped down to go play with Kenny in the backyard, Ramsey said to Molly, “I got a call from Lieutenant O’Connor from the Oak Park police. They found the man they believe shot your father in a dump site, somewhere in southern Ohio. He’d been dead quite a while, about six months. Rule Shaker didn’t want any loose ends.”
“Exactly. Eve must have told her father about the saliva the cops found and could do a DNA match on if they came up with a suspect. His spitting cost him his life.”
“Yeah. Probably no big loss. That’s over. No doubt it’s a relief for your dad.” He nuzzled her neck, fiddled with the small gold hoop in her left ear, and said, “Have you decided yet, Molly? Are we going to Italy or to Chicago for Thanksgiving? You’d best make up your mind; it’s only a few days away and I imagine that there aren’t many airline tickets left.”
“No problem,” she said, giving him a big grin. “We’re going to Italy for Thanksgiving and to Chicago for Christmas. I told my dad that Emma wanted lots of really neat presents and that’s why he got Christmas.
“He huffed and puffed, but then he laughed, said Gunther was already talking about getting Emma a G.I. Jane doll for Christmas, replete with appropriate weaponry. Can you beat that?”
“No, I’m not even going to try.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “Well, since I still have my Detonics all safe and snug in a box on the top shelf of a closet, I guess I can’t say much. Oh yes, I returned Mrs. Garcia’s call. She said that Dr. Loo sends her love, that she’s planning on spring skiing.”
“What did she say about Emma?”
“She’s pleased. She thinks it would be good for Emma to travel again. She’s still very encouraged with the progress Emma’s making. For now, she says that Emma’s talked about it enough, and, in her own way, is ready to move on.”
“Thank God for that. Am I spoiling her too rotten, Molly?”
“Nah, she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s spoiling you, actually. Imagine her running down here to the kitchen to make you some toast this morning so you wouldn’t have to get your feet cold on the tile.”
He laughed. “There are still crumbs in the bed. Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. You know how the district judges get their cases through the random lottery system? I just got handed another big-time drug case. I hope this one has a different ending than the last one.”
“I think I’ll hang out in the courtroom, just to make sure nobody tries anything.”
He kissed her ear, her chin, the tip of her nose. “Emma spoils me and you protect me.” He leaned back in the chair and gave her a big grin. “What more could a guy ask for?”
The Target Page 35
