“Keep clicking,” I say.
I see it on the third click. When I do, I feel my entire body freeze.
“Stop.”
“What?” she asks.
I point to a logo on the bottom right. I’d been able to see part of it with the Longley family, enough to make me pause, but now I can see it clearly. Rachel follows my finger. She sees it too.
It’s a stork carrying three words in what looks like a sling:
BERG REPRODUCTIVE INSTITUTE
Rachel stares another second before turning to me.
My mouth feels dry. “That’s where she went,” I say. “Cheryl, I mean.”
“Yeah, so?”
I say nothing.
“What does that have to do with anything, David? I mean, this company also owns pizzerias. You’ve been to those.”
I frown. “My marriage didn’t fall apart because of a visit to a pizzeria.”
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say here.”
“Your sister went to that” — I make quote marks with my fingers — “‘institute’ behind my back.”
“I know,” she says in a voice so soft and gentle it almost feels like a caress. “But it led to nothing. You know that too.”
“Except it didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I stopped trusting her.”
“You didn’t have to, David. Cheryl was in pain. You could have understood that. She didn’t go through with it.”
I see no reason to argue and perhaps she’s right. I stare at the logo and shake my head. “This isn’t a coincidence.”
“Of course it is. I just wish you could have understood.”
“Oh, I understood,” I say, my voice surprisingly matter-of-fact. “I was shooting blanks. It was putting a strain on our marriage. Cheryl figured maybe she could get pregnant with a donor and claim the baby was mine. I’m surprised she just didn’t fuck another guy and cut out the middleman.”
“That’s not fair, David.”
“Who’s she married to now, Rachel?” I counter. “You didn’t tell me that part.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s Ronald, isn’t it?”
She says nothing. I feel my heart crack again. “Just a friend. That’s what she kept saying.”
“That’s all he was.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be naïve.”
“I’m not saying Ronald didn’t hope for—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say because it’s true and I can’t listen to another word of this. “The only thing I care about now is finding Matthew.”
“And you think this” — she points at the stupid stork logo — “is the answer?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“How?”
But I don’t have the answer, so we sit in silence for a while.
After some time passes, Rachel says, “Are you still going to meet with that Skunk guy?”
“Yes.”
“You better go then.”
“Yes.” I look at her. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” she says.
I keep looking at her.
“It’s just a coincidence,” Rachel says. “Nothing more.”
And I don’t know if she’s trying to convince me or herself.
Chapter 26
“Pixie?”
Gertrude turned away from the window with the magnificent view and toward the little boy. This Payne house, completed only four years ago, was altogether different from the museum-quality Payne House of yesteryear. Yes, the property was expansive. There was a tennis court and swimming pool and horse trails and all that. But instead of the old mammoth tomb-like marble, this estate was light, airy, postmodern modern, a complex of white cubes and wall-to-ceiling windows. It surprised guests, but Gertrude loved it.
“Yes, Theo?”
“Where’s Dad?”
She smiled at him. Theo was pure light despite all the darkness. He was a good boy, kind, intelligent, thoughtful. He spoke not only English but French and German as well, because he had spent most of his life at a boarding school in St. Gallen. The Swiss school had fewer than three hundred students, horse stables, mountain climbing, sailing, and cost nearly $200,000 per year. Hayden, not wanting to be an absentee father, spent a lot of time in the area. This had been the boys’ (that was how she thought of them) first journey back to the United States in a long while. They’d been staying at the Payne estate with her now for three months. Gertrude had been in favor of the trip. She was getting older and wanted to spend time with them.
But it had been a mistake.
From behind the boy, Hayden entered the room. “I’m right here, buddy.”
Hayden put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. The boy blinked. This had been his issue from the start. He was a wonderful boy, truly, and after the initial transition stage, he seemed to be in a decent place. But there was a skittishness to Theo, a wince and a cringe almost as though he expected to be struck. He wouldn’t be. He hadn’t been. But sometimes, even though the boy didn’t know the truth, it was as if something inside of him, something primordial, did and involuntarily threw up safeguards.
Hayden gave Gertrude a tight smile, and she could see immediately that something was wrong. She summoned Stephano, who would lead Theo outside to play. Stephano closed the door behind them, giving grandmother and grandson some privacy, though Stephano was privy to all the family skullduggeries.
“What is it, Hayden?” she asked.
“He assaulted a police officer.”
She had not yet checked the news. While Gertrude understood technology and the completely connected world, she believed that the secret to longevity was a mix of routine and new experiences. Her mornings, though, always started the same way. Seven a.m. wake up. Twenty minutes of stretching. Twenty minutes of meditation. Coffee and a novel for an hour if time permitted. Then, and only then, did she bother with the news. As she aged, she realized that the news became more about entertainment — stressful entertainment at that — than enlightenment.
“I assume they captured him?”
“No. Not yet.”
That surprised her. David Burroughs was more resourceful than she’d imagined. “You can’t stay. You know that.”
“Do you think David knows something?”
Something? Yes. But there was no way he could know enough. “This assault,” she said. “Where did it take place?”
“New York City.”
Gertrude didn’t understand. “Do they know why he was there?”
“The rumors are he was seeking revenge on a witness.”
“Any idea which one?”
“Almost all the witnesses were local experts.”
“Except one,” Gertrude said. “That woman who lied about seeing him with the baseball bat.”
Hayden nodded slowly. “Could be.”
That had puzzled her, of course. They’d known the woman was lying. They had no idea why.
“I’m tired of hiding him, Pixie.”
“I know, Hayden.”
“He has Payne blood coursing through his veins.”
“I know that too.”
“We even ran the tests. He’s my son. Your great-grandson. He’s a Payne man, after all.”
She almost smiled at that. A Payne man. Like that was a good thing. The damage those men had done. Surprise pregnancies, blackmail, extortion, even murder — all covered up with the mighty dollar. Back in the day, Gertrude hadn’t been surprised in the least by the Kennedy Chappaquiddick incident — she had only been surprised that it hadn’t been covered up before word leaked out. That sort of thing happened a lot. The rich pay off the family. That’s the carrot. But the rich use the stick too. Sure, you could try to stand up for the loved one who’d been knocked up or injured or killed, but it will only make it all much worse in the end. You’ll never get justice. The rich will deny and obfuscate and bribe and pressure and bankrupt and sue and threaten and if none of that works — and that almost always works — you’ll be made to disappear. Or maybe you have other children who will suffer. Something. Anything.