Page 80 of Dark Knight
I swallow the strange lump in my throat and push through the fear brought on by guilt. “I’m happy to say we’re all set here. I’ve thought of every possible setback and prepared for it accordingly.” There’s something comforting about sliding into my usual role. Like putting on a favorite pair of old jeans that fit perfectly and make me feel comfortable. Like I know who I am.
“Lay it on me. You know I’ve been dying of curiosity.” But he stops himself. “First off, how is Tatum?”
A normal question. Don’t read too much into it. “She’s fine. On her way to the grocery store as we speak.”
“Alone?”
“She’s doing great. Feeling stronger, more confident. I don’t want to take that from her.” Even taking what was left of Amanda’s ashes to the lake to scatter them in the water didn’t seem to break her down. I was ready for it, prepared to comfort her and sit by the water’s edge through the night if needed. If anything, I think she needed that. She needed the excuse to remove her mother’s presence. She needed closure.
“Of course, you’re right. You’re more aware of her feelings now than I am.” Is that guilt I hear? I don’t doubt it. No matter what she thinks or how she interpreted the way he’s treated her for a decade, the talks we’ve had about her and her future proved to me a long time ago that he cares about nothing more than her – at least that was true before he got involved with Bianca. Tatum is still his pride and joy, whether she knows it or not.
I clear my throat, signaling a change in subject. I don’t trust myself to talk about her. “I’m going to send you the documents when this call is over, but the long and short of it is this: what I’ve prepared will prove to Jeff once and for all that Kristoff is dead.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Using my Italian contacts, I’ve put together a report on an unfortunate accident that occurred off the coast of Capri, three weeks after Tatum returned to the States. A young man identified as Kristoff Knight had much to drink and snorted a little too much up his nose while partying on a yacht, and unfortunately, he lost his balance and fell overboard.”
“And this is all documented?”
“Yes, in full. I had to grease many palms and call every favor, but we have three signed witness testimonies detailing Kristoff’s condition the night he went into the water. Rocky water, at that – so rocky, his body was badly battered by the force of the waves that washed him up on shore. It was difficult to identify him once they fished him out.”
“What a tragedy,” he mutters.
“My contacts located a body of Kristoff’s general size and physical description, and that’s the body described in the autopsy paperwork. Unfortunately, since there was no one to claim him, and things are so hectic around there, the medical examiner accidentally-on-purpose sent his body down to be cremated. Now he’s in some unmarked bag – at least, according to the report you’re going to give Jeff. You broke your back and went way out of your way to do this, but authorities out there don’t exactly give a damn about a tourist who got himself killed by his own stupidity.”
“There’s no way he could prove this is a lie.” That’s not a question. It’s an observation delivered in an almost hushed voice. “I know you, and I know you think of everything.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” I remind him. “The witnesses don’t exist except on paper, so he could never find them. And, of course, the body doesn’t exist, so there’s no hope of him finding it. Of course, we’re very sorry we couldn’t get to the bottom of this before it turned to ash, but at least a grieving father can get closure.”
“You’ve outdone yourself. Really, I can’t thank you enough for taking the lead on this. You’ve freed her, you know. Any lawyer in their right mind would tell him to let it go at this point.”
“Which is exactly what we can tell him if he ever bothers her again. He has absolutely no standing, and even if he blames her for leaving the country and deserting Kristoff, there are still no grounds for bringing her all into this. She wasn’t his nanny. He did exactly what he wanted.” Did he ever. He damn near destroyed her.
“Bianca is going to be so happy.” The relief in his voice is heavy, and I can’t help smiling in the light of his approval. Going back through those ugly memories the night I told Tatum the whole story only reminded me of everything I owe him. This is the least I could do.
“I know Tatum will, too. She doesn’t know anything about this yet – and we’re not going to give her the details. The less she knows, the better.”
“Of course. It will be so good to have both of you back here. It wouldn’t have seemed like Thanksgiving without the two of you.”
Thanksgiving? My stomach drops, my mouth going dry, as my heart begins pounding in a furious rhythm. I always think of everything, don’t I? Every angle, every potential slip-up.
Why didn’t I think of this? Originally, I was in a hurry because I wanted it over with. And I did always want to help her – that’s the truth. I wanted this over for her.
Now, nothing is keeping us here, meaning there’s nothing keeping us together. Obviously, we won’t be able to keep this up once we’re back at the compound. No marathon sessions in bed… or the shower… or the kitchen… My chest aches when I look ahead to a future without her.
“Did I lose you?”
Get your shit together. “No, still here. You went out for a second – it was a little fuzzy.” How do I sound normal? Easy. Years of tuning my feelings out and operating on autopilot. It’s second nature.
“I was saying Bianca’s not having a very easy time of it right now. It’s nothing to worry about, but she’s got nasty morning sickness and feels like shit more often than not. Having Tatum back is just what she needs. The timing couldn’t be better. I might save it as a surprise.”
“That’s a good idea. She’ll be happy.” Words are coming out of my mouth, but I am hardly paying attention. How am I supposed to do this? How do I go the rest of my life without what happened less than an hour ago? Touching her, tasting her, listening to her moaning my name. Knowing how much she needs me. How much I need her.
“And I’m sure it can’t happen fast enough for you,” he concludes. “I have to admit, I had my doubts.”
The word reverberates like a gong in my skull. “Doubts?”
“Sending you back there. I knew it couldn’t be easy on you, and it felt damn unfair, putting you through that. And there were a couple of times I wondered if it wasn’t all too much. Like that night when you were drunk.”