RISE - Part Three (The RISE Series Book 3)

by Deborah Bladon

  COPYRIGHT

  First Original Edition, August 2015

  Copyright © 2015 by Deborah Bladon

  ISBN: 9781926440316

  Cover Design by Wolf & Eagle Media

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously.

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

  Also by Deborah Bladon

  The Obsessed Series

  The Exposed Series

  The Pulse Series

  The VAIN Series

  The RUIN Series

  IMPULSE

  SOLO

  The GONE Series

  FUSE

  The Trace Series

  CHANCE

  The Ember Series

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

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  TORN Preview

  Thank You

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  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  I've never thought that my father is perfect. I'm not one of those young women who weigh the character traits of the men I meet against those of my father. I've seen him struggle with his own personal demons.

  When I was in high school, he traveled extensively. Those rare nights when he wasn't out of town, he'd come home late from work under the guise of an important meeting that he just couldn't miss. He'd typically pour himself a scotch, and then another, and often a third before he'd go to bed hours after my mother did.

  It all made sense when during a strained family Thanksgiving dinner, the year before last, my parents told my siblings, their partners and me that their marriage was over. My father repeated those same words over and over again while my mother wept and blew her nose into a tissue. He would always be grateful that he met her, and that they had four beautiful children but the way they loved each other had changed.

  Judging by the sorrow on my mother's delicate face, the emotional shift in the relationship wasn't the same for her. She retreated into her sewing room after that, spending hours knitting and crocheting mittens, scarves and even hats for the winter. I have so many piled into a cardboard box under my bed that I'll never wear. I can't wear them. They are a painful reminder of my mother's broken heart.

  I tried to stay close to her. I wanted to be that anchor that she needed while she weathered the storm of the end of her marriage. My siblings tried to as well with promises of tropical vacations with her grandchildren and spare bedrooms she could move into in their homes. She'd always politely decline because she wanted to stay afloat in her pain. She's still there, unwilling to allow anyone to rescue her and bring her back into the real world.

  I've tried calling her twice since I left the hotel in the midst of Gabriel's questions about whether my father is the man whose face was broadcast on the national news. My panicked ramblings about needing to take care of a personal matter silenced any doubt he may have had about my relationship with the man who is being accused of a list of crimes so long, and vast, that I can't digest any of it.

  I'm numb. I'm so dazed that when I fling my arm in the air to hail a taxi on the street outside the hotel, that I don't know where I want the driver to take me.

  "Just drive," I whisper. "Please just drive."

  I hear the incessant ring of my smartphone that is now buried in my purse. I'd shoved it in there, out of pure need, after I'd left my mother a voicemail. The screen danced to life with notifications that my sister, my oldest brother and Landon were all calling, almost simultaneously. Answering it will only propel me deeper into this nightmare. I need solitude. It's what I've always craved when my world has turned inside out on itself.

  I close my eyes as the driver steers the car through the crowded streets. I don't want to see anything. I don't want to feel anything. All I want is for my father to be the man I thought he was when I got out of bed this morning.

  ***

  "Why is my husband looking for you?" Lilly sets her tablet down on her desk. "Is there a problem with the gala?"

  I reach forward to place a paper cup filled with coffee in front of her. I was on my way home after I asked the taxi driver to drop me off in Times Square. I thought if I could stand in the middle of the chaos and absorb the energy of the tourists, buskers and New Yorkers who converge there at any given moment of the day, that I'd feel less lost in my own body. I mistakenly believed that by being around a bunch of random strangers that I'd gain some perspective about the scope of my problems.

  It hadn't worked. I just stepped out of the taxi when I was propositioned by a sweaty businessman who apparently values my sexual services at less than fifty dollars.

  When I'd marched through the crowds and out of the commotion, I'd sought solace, and relief from the mid-day sun, in Penn Station. I was tempted, for no more than a second or two, to board one of the trains that race to Boston.

  I would have been in my mother's home before dusk trying to fill my selfish need to seek comfort in her company. She would have held me in her arms, as all good mothers do when their daughters are disappointed, but when the light fell and she went to her bedroom, the gravity of what my father had done would have hit me even harder.

  I see the loss of our family in her eyes and I feel it in the way she clings to me when I hug her each time I visit her. I don't have the strength to see her now. I can't shoulder her disappointment on top of my own. I need my oldest brother there for that or my sister, who is the one who stands tall when the world is crumbling around her.

  "Thanks for this." Lilly pulls off the plastic lid to blow on the coffee even though by now, it's lukewarm, at best. "When Clive called me he said he tried your number twice and you weren't answering."

  I glance at my purse. I'd lost track of how many times the chime sounded a new call coming in. I had been tempted to reach into my bag to mute the ringer but that would have cast a lure to check the log of missed calls.

  As much as I want the comfort in knowing my father has tried to call me to tell me his arrest is all a big misunderstanding, the devastation I'll feel if he hasn't reached out will be silent confirmation that what I saw on television this morning is my new reality.

  My dad was my superhero when I fell off my bicycle when I was six-years-old and scraped my brow so badly that I had to have two stitches. He was my best friend when our dog ran away and never came back. He was my protector when a red-haired boy I thought I loved in grade school told me that my eyes were too big for my face.

  He has been the only true, and strong, constant in my life since I was a child. Letting go of that to accept that his personal failings are so deep that they've hurt others is something I can't do quite yet.

  "I've had a busy day," I say because wandering aimlessly through the streets of Manhattan in shock creates its own unique disarray. "I'll call Clive when I go back to my office."

 
"You're going back to your office?" She takes a cautious sip of the coffee before her tongue darts out onto her bottom lip. "This is almost cold, Tess. When did you buy it?"

  I glance at the pearl encrusted watch on my wrist that Ivy gave to me. It's near six now which means that soon Lilly will take the subway back to her place so she can cuddle her daughter before she spends the evening with her husband.

  I want to stall her so I can find the courage to ask her to help me. My father's crimes aren't nearly as severe and life changing as those of her father, but she'll be one of the only people who can sympathize with the dull ache that I feel inside.

  I want to believe that Landon will too but it's not that simple anymore. His father knew enough about my dad's sins to land him in jail. At least I think he's in jail. I've built such a tightly woven cocoon around myself today that I haven't looked online, glanced at a television or read any of the headlines on the newspapers at the bodegas I passed.

  "Tess?" Her voice is softer now. "Tell me what's wrong."

  My bottom lip quivers slightly. I pull my fingers across it to quiet it. I don't want to cry. If I cry I don't know that I'll be able to stop. "Do you need to go home soon?"

  Her brow furrows as a piece of her hair falls against her cheek. She pushes it back almost instantly, tucking it behind her ear. "Something's not right. You're not yourself. Clive sounded off too. What is it?"

  I've seen Lilly upset before. It happened twice. The first time was when the nanny called to say that Haven had a low grade fever. Lilly had rushed from the restaurant we were dining at and had been in a taxi on her way home within moments.

  The second time was when we were at a deli grabbing a sandwich before we went to the Saturday matinee of a musical on Broadway. A woman waiting in line was brushed aside when an elderly man had pushed his way to the counter to order his lunch.

  The woman had been harsh and unrelenting as she unleashed a verbal assault on the small, quiet man. His mind, obviously, wasn't as sound as it might have been a decade or two ago. Lilly stepped into the uneven fray and silenced the outraged woman with several well-chosen words about understanding and respect.

  I was proud of her then. I've never told her that. We'd simply taken our sandwiches and ate them as we strolled down the street, neither saying a word about what had happened.

  "You're scaring me, Tess." She's on her feet now, her hands wrung together in a knotted mess. "Clive was preoccupied on the phone when he called and you look like hell. What are you two trying to hide from me?"

  Chapter 2

  I can't speak for Clive Parker but I can certainly speak for myself.

  "My father was arrested this morning," I spit the words out quickly and brazenly. "I saw it on the news. He was handcuffed."

  Her hands both leap to her mouth in unison. The gesture does nothing to hide the shock in her eyes. "What? Arrested? Why? What did he do?"

  She fires the questions at me so fast that I barely hear one before the next hits me.

  "Things," I say before I exhale harshly. "It's all related to the job he used to have. He sold insurance. On the news they said he stole money. "

  I look down as I take a deep breath. Telling Lilly that my father is a suspect in the case of a missing woman only gives weight to something I don't want to be true. My father may have done things with money that will land him in prison but I won't add my voice to those accusing him of actually hurting another person. I won't believe that until he tells me to my face that it's the truth.

  "I didn't know," she pauses as her eyes scan my face slowly. "You and your dad are close. Did you..."

  "No," I interrupt her before she can finish. I don't want to have the memory of my best friend accusing me of knowing that my dad is capable of doing horrible things. She may be trying to form it into an innocent question, but the implied inference is there. "I had no idea."

  She takes a half step back, her hand reaching for the side of her desk. "You must be in shock, Tess. You said you saw it on the news. Have you talked to your dad since then?"

  "I haven't." I pull myself to my feet. "I haven't talked to anyone. You're the first person I wanted to see."

  I can tell the words touch her by the way her bottom lip quivers slightly. "I want to help. Tell me what I can do."

  Lilly is capable of many things but turning back time isn't one of them. She also can't erase my father's past. "I don't know what to do. I have to go home and call my brother."

  She nods her head slowly. "I can go with you. I'll call Clive and tell him that I'll be home late."

  I stare at the smartphone on her desk. As much as I want her to go home with me, I need to do it alone. I want to sit in the still air in my apartment when I call my brother, and try to call my mother again.

  I don't want Lilly to be across the room from me, pretending to be lost in a magazine when I call Landon to ask how any of this is possible. His father pulled my father down with him as the ship of his life was sinking. I refuse to believe that coincidence brought the two of us together.

  "I'd rather you spend the night with your family." I rest my hand on my cheek. "I need to make some calls and figure out what my next step should be."

  I see the hesitation in her expression even before she speaks. "I know what it's like, Tess. My dad was a bad person too. I can help you."

  Her father raised a gun to the head of each of his children and his wife. He stole every person Lilly loved from her and by some small miracle she survived with just a faint scar on her neck. My father took money. He moved numbers around to satiate his greed. On a scale of evil, they don't come close but as I look into her eyes I see something I've been longing for all day. She understands.

  It doesn't matter if my father's crimes impacted strangers or if Lilly's father's deeds changed the entire course of her life. She knows what I'm feeling and tonight, I need her strength to help get me through all the realities I'm going to be forced to face.

  "Let's stop at your place first and see Haven," I offer as much for her as for me. The hugs of a beautiful little girl can wash away almost anything for a brief moment or two. "I can ask Clive what he wants."

  "That works for me." She scoops up her smartphone and purse. "I'll help you get through this, Tess. You know you can count on me."

  ***

  "I've been trying to reach you, Tess," Clive says as he embraces Lilly tightly. "I called you more than once. Where have you been?"

  The words are too familiar and intimate for the business relationship I share with him. He may be the husband of my best friend, but until a few weeks ago, we hadn't exchanged more than a handful of words with one another. Since I started working on planning the gala his company, Corteck, is hosting, we've warmed up to one another. This goes beyond that though.

  "I've been busy," I try to level out my tone. "Is there an issue with the gala you want to discuss?"

  His eyes close briefly as he pulls Lilly closer to him. "My cousin stopped by my office this morning. My cousin, Jax. Ivy was with him."

  He knows. I see it in his face. There's a flash of tenderness in his expression that is usually reserved for only Lilly and Haven. I look down, fearful that my scattered emotions will boil over and I'll fall to my knees in grief right here in the foyer of their condo.

  "You know about my dad, don't you?"

  "Ivy's upset." His lips brush effortlessly over Lilly's forehead before he takes a step back. "That means Jax is running around trying to fix the problem. They stopped by because they were concerned about you."

  They stopped by because Ivy couldn't reach me. "How upset is she?"

  "She thinks the police made a mistake." He looks first at Lilly, then at me. "She's convinced they arrested the wrong person."

  That's the Ivy that I know and love. She'll cling desperately to the best in every person until a hard dose of reality slaps her across the face. It happened with her former fiancé, Mark, and her best friend, Liz. They had an affair, behind her back, that lasted for years. Sh
e's confessed to me that there were warning signs that she willingly chose to ignore. That innocence is part of her charm. It's also the cushion she needs to ignore life's harsh realities until she's ready to face them.

  "The police don't make mistakes like that." I can hear the resignation in my tone, even if my mind hasn't caught up. "My dad isn't the man we all thought he was. Right now I feel like I never even knew him."

  Chapter 3

  "You don't know me," he begins before his hand darts out into the space between the two of us. "My brother knows you."

  I look up and into his face. I've seen it before in the photographs that are neatly displayed in Landon's apartment. He's older than he was when he posed next to his father and brother, but it's him.

  I reach out to place my hand in his. "You're Dane, aren't you?"

  He nods briskly as he shakes my hand faintly. His eyes study my face before his tongue darts out to moisten his lips. "Landon told me a lot about you."

  I can't say the same. I've heard spotted details about Dane Beckett from his older brother. I only know that their relationship has been strained for most of their adult lives, and that Dane is going to be a father and a husband soon.

  I pull my hand free before motioning towards the door of my apartment building. "Did you come here to see me?"

  It's a pointless question given the fact that I saw him standing near the door the moment my building came into view as I walked down the street. I rode the subway home after spending the past two hours with Clive and Lilly.

  I'd taken a few bites of the dinner Lilly prepared as I worked my way through the dozens of messages on my phone. I'd excused myself to the solace of Clive's home office when I called my brother. He's handling it he told me. My father is as fine as can be expected. He has a competent lawyer and he's anxious to get back to Boston to clear everything up.

  My brother told me he'd call me tomorrow after he landed in Boston. He loved me, he whispered, and our father loved me too.

  "It will all be okay, Tessie," he managed to say before he ended the call.