Deceptions: A Cainsville Novel Read Free Page B

said.
    “I think we’re civilized enough to avoid threats.”
    “But if you’d like one . . .” Gabriel said, his voice a purring rumble. “I’d be happy to oblige.”
    James stepped in front of Gabriel. When he saw he had to look up, he inched back, seemed to realize that looked bad, too, and stood his ground.
    “I have no intention of abandoning Olivia,” James said. “So tell me—tell
everyone
here—what you plan to do about that.”
    “Change your mind.”
    Gabriel’s voice was low, almost soft, but the look in his eyes was bone-chilling. James took another step back and caught himself again.
    “You
will
leave her alone,” Gabriel said. “One way or another.”
    “That sounds like a death threat, Walsh.”
    “Then you lack imagination.”
    With that, it was time to walk away. I headed for the elevator. Gabriel followed.
    —
    I took the driver’s seat this time. Gabriel relinquished the keys without a word.
    “I’m going to get a restraining order,” I said as we drove away. “Yes, having worked in a women’s shelter, I know they aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, but I need to establish a record of harassment.”
    When he said nothing for two blocks, I asked, “You don’t think I should?”
    “I agree that a record is wise. I’m just not certain I can help you obtain one.”
    “No problem. I’ll do it myself.”
    “I don’t mean . . .” He cleared his throat. “No matter how you obtain it, your connection with me will . . . I’ve used restraining orders in the past to establish a record of harassment against a client. Except in those cases . . .”
    “Your clients weren’t actually being harassed.”
    “I’ll fix this, Olivia.”
    “It’s not really your problem to fix,” I said softly.
    “Actually, it is. I’m the one who . . . made that deal with him.”
    “To protect me and get us back together again.” Gabriel had accepted money from James, to look after me and help me reconcile with him.
    “It wasn’t—” Silence. Then, “Whatever my intentions, it’s clear that he interpreted our arrangement to mean reconciliation was a strong possibility. You said it was over, and I muddied the waters. I miscalculated.”
    Two words. Simple enough.
I miscalculated.
But they weren’t simple at all. They were an admission of fallibility, and that didn’t come easy for Gabriel.
    “I’ll fix this,” he said. “I promise.”
    —
    As we drove to the dealership, Gabriel got a call. It was Pamela Larsen, my birth mother, phoning from prison. He told me it was her, but he didn’t answer.
    My relationship with Pamela was strained. When I’d discovered I could see omens, I’d remembered her teaching me all those superstitious ditties as a child. So I’d gone to her for answers. She’d brushed it off as nonsense passed along by a young and foolish mother trying to entertain her baby. I’d refused to see her until she agreed to talk.
    She was trying to reach me through Gabriel because he was her lawyer. She’d hired him a few years ago to win her an appeal. He’d failed to do so. As much as she hated him—and hated me having any association with him—she hadn’t hesitated to hire him back for her latest appeal. Begging him to be allowed to see me would be difficult for her. I regretted that it had come to that. Yet I didn’t regret it enough to visit. If she wasn’t going to give me answers, I’d try Todd. Which was turning out to be a lot more complicated—logistically and emotionally—than I could have imagined.
    Todd Larsen was a convicted serial killer. A monster. My memories of him should surely be equally monstrous. Except the ones I’d dredged up were bright and warm. By all accounts, I’d adored my father, and he’d adored me. When I’d been unable to get in to see him—we still weren’t sure why—he’d sent that letter, and it was everything I could have wanted . . . and everything I didn’t want.
    I’d had a dad. Arthur