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Dair

Page 28

His mouth tightened.  “More than two, though only two have gotten close to succeeding.  The bridge explosion in Virginia, and the shooting in L.A., a few months back.  And the responsible party is our loving grandmother.”

That threw me.  I just stared at him.  Why on earth . . . ?

“Dear Grandma Diana has been a dirty politician before it was even a trend.  She’s hid it well from the public, but it’s hard to hide a thing like that from your family, especially the ones that have a borderline genius IQ.”

“Iris is the witness that’s gathered evidence against her,” I said, right as it dawned on me.

He nodded.  “Solid evidence, made much more solid if she survives long enough to actually testify on the stand.  What could be more damaging to someone’s ambition to be president than a granddaughter willing to bear witness about dear Granny’s evil deeds?  And the list of crimes is mind-boggling, let me tell you.  High crimes and misdemeanors just won’t cover this one.  Not with at least three murders in the mix.”

I thought back, counting.  “Your parents?” I guessed.

He nodded.  “Them first.  We don’t know why.  We can only assume that like us, they knew too much, and weren’t willing to be quiet about it.  But we do know why she killed Lorna, and that one wasn’t even done with a hit man.”

I just stared.  Lorna was the younger sister, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember the circumstances behind her death.

“She drowned in the backyard pool, shortly after overhearing a conversation our grandmother had where she admitted to having her own daughter killed.  But before that, she told Iris what she’d heard.”

“Iris, being the brilliant, resourceful girl that she is, began to collect evidence, to build a case, in secret.  She did this for years.”

He took a deep gasp of a breath, looking more agitated even than he usually did.

“I was long gone by then.  I ditched out when I realized what kind of a monster our grandmother was.  Unfortunately, I left a bit too early, before I realized that she was a monster actually capable of killing her own family.”

I could tell by the tremor in his voice what his abandonment of them did to him.  He held himself responsible.

“But you came back in time to save Francis from the first attempt on her life.”

He shook his head, nostrils flared.  “Not hardly.  That girl saved herself, swam out of a deathtrap, hiked five miles to a farmer’s house, and called me.  I was . . . involved in doing some interesting jobs for the government at the time, and luckily I had the connections to get her protection, though when someone that powerful wants you dead, safety becomes a rather tricky notion.”

“What sort of evidence does she have?  Is it actually necessary for Iris to take the stand?”

“Enough,” he said abruptly.  I could tell by his demeanor that this rare and liberal flow of information was being shut down.  “I didn’t come here because I enjoy chitchatting with you.  I came to give you enough answers so you’ll have a clue what you need to do if Iris endangers herself to see you again.”

“Francis,” I corrected quietly, feeling just sick about it.

“Iris,” he stressed.  “She goes by Iris now.  If ever anyone deserved a fresh start in life, it’s her.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Three days later, Iris showed up at my door, goodbye in her eyes.

She didn’t even try to touch me, in fact, she stayed several feet away at all times, and I found myself relieved by that.

“Hello, Francis,” I said stonily.

She flushed.  “Please don’t call me that.  I’m Iris now.  Always.”

“I came to apologize, and to say my piece, now that it’s all out there.”

I watched her, arms folded across my chest, trying to reconcile all of the things I felt about her.

Guilt, longing, disgust, desire, shame, tenderness, anger, pity, animosity.

Love.

Yes, still that.

But what did that matter?  How could a situation so screwed up possibly amount to anything?

“First off, do you have any questions?”  Her voice was very small, as though she was all of a sudden intimidated by me.

I hated that, but saw the necessity of it.  “What was real?  I know you researched me, to shape yourself into what you thought I wanted.  I want to know what was real.”

She took a very deep breath, and began to speak, “In every relationship, there’s someone that loves the other more, someone that would be crushed if it all ended.  Between you and me, I am that someone.  I’ve always known it would be like that.”

I studied her like I’d never seen her before, wondering what on earth to do with her.

“I’ve loved you for so long it’s become part of the patchwork that makes me who I am.  You are the thing that drives me to go on, to stay safe in a world that lost its use for me years ago.  You have no faith in me, which is fair, though it makes me sad, but my faith in you saved my life.”

Her fists were clenched, and she looked like she was about to cry.

It took everything I had not to take her in my arms, but the worst thing I could do was lead her on, and so I held myself back.

“That’s what was real, Dair,” she continued in a trembling voice.  “My love for you is the realest thing I know.  I’d like for you to remember that.”

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