A Reason To Kill, page 42
“My own kid?”
“Your kid. Sure. How many years? Now he’s your kid?” As Devlin heard the other end of the conversation erupt with curses, he decided not to burn the wires with the multitude of questions plaguing him. He’d leave that for Mama Nelson’s lawyers. At least the old lady was protected by the fact she hadn’t been aware of the child’s existence.
“Mike?” He asked, “Why didn’t you ever mention the kid?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Now it’s my business?” Devlin gave a sharp laugh. “So? What do I do with him?”
“Bring him here. What the hell you think, I’m going to hide him.”
Chapter 77
New York, 1984
Thomas Devlin allowed himself a nasty chuckle as he opened the glass doors at the rear of O’Neill’s house and spotted Ann Ryan. “Well, why am I not surprised to find you here?”
She ran her fingers through her short-cropped chestnut bob as she looked up from where she lay on the chaise. Her bright blue eyes were the focal point of a face that maintained a whimsical freshness that denied maturity. Ann still limited her makeup and the paleness of the tangerine lipstick created a pleasant sparkle on the bow shaped mouth. “Please…” Her anger control meter was dipping into the red as Devlin stepped onto the spacious veranda. She barely allowed him time to pour coffee when she demanded, “Why did you bring that boy here?”
“Hey?” Devlin ignored the irritation in her voice and grinned. “Mike told me to. It’s his kid.”
“Surely you don’t believe that?” She pushed up to a sitting position in the lounge. “Michael is playing his usual game of control. He has too much invested in John Connors to let him fail now.”
Devlin sat down in a seat at the redwood set and she joined him. A frown settling on his face, he watched her slip into the chair across from him, before he said. “Annie, you have been concocting a tale to soothe your feelings. This proves Mike was still playing around with Andrea the same time you entered his life.”
“And I suppose you thought I didn’t realize that.” Ann did not appear insulted by his words. “Michael wanted me for more than his and Andrea’s ten minute wiggle and groan sessions.” She reached over and covered Devlin’s hand with her own.
Quickly he pulled it away. She gave a soft laugh. “Don’t worry darling.” Her tone was sarcastic as a coy grin played at her mouth. “Our Lordship has taken off to parts unknown with his freshly invented son.”
“You say the kid is not his. Only you figure he’s John’s?”
“Michael never wanted more children. He never liked the one he had and figured her mother tricked him.” She shrugged. “He was too smart to ever let any woman, especially Andrea, sucker him again.”
“So you reckon he’s covering for Connors?” In a way it made sense. Still, he sipped at his coffee and refused to admit to her that she might be right.
“You don’t know all I know about this poor child.” Her tone was tinged with disgust. “You weren’t around when Alvin Nelson made his rapid advancement in the Connors’ firm.”
“I don’t imagine you were either. Unless you’re into your second life span.”
“No. But my family was and Daddy saw himself passed over in favor of that little twerp several times. Some dirty family secrets get shared over the years.” A nasty smile for an instant clouded her features as she said, “Bet you don’t know who Andrea’s biological father was?”
Devlin pushed away from the table and went to refill his cup. He realized what she had hinted at and wanted some space to cope with the knowledge that she knew. He kept his back to her as he said, “You’re telling me it was Raymond Connors? No! You cooked that up. Andy was sleeping with her own brother?” He turned back allowing an expression of disbelief to remain on his face as if waiting for her to deny this.
When Ann raised the china cup to her lips without doing so, Devlin said, “Andrea didn’t know that?”
“No, not when she and John were making it big together behind Catherine’s back,” Ann admitted. “When we were young our parents pretty much separated the boys from the girls on the surface. The Connors’ sent their sons to school in England so we only saw each other in summer.” She considered for a moment before she went on. “But I don’t think Raymond Connors actually became aware of the relationship between John and Andrea until years later after John was married to Catherine. Raymond was fond of Andrea and treated her as Sheila’s best friend. Those two girls were inseparable. Then of course they were sisters?” She hinged a question mark more for expression. “I think Raymond always figured Andrea was Michael’s girlfriend and that was fine with him. Andrea wasn’t known to be his daughter and Michael was a good catch.
“Raymond Connors was more concerned with Michael’s growing interest in Sheila. And that he wouldn’t tolerate. He probably saw a younger version of himself in Michael; he wanted a better man for his princess.
“When Raymond finally woke up to reality he shipped John and his family to England.
“My Father always swore that Alvin Nelson conveniently married Raymond’s pretty little private secretary Candace at the proper time so Andrea’s birth could be registered as an eight month preemie.”
“Christ, Andrea was blackmailing John by letting him believe the boy was his son as well as his nephew?”
“A little blackmail was good for John’s soul. Andrea must have felt just like her mother felt about Raymond Connors.” Ann said. “Though mutual agreement for self-preservation anyone associated with the Connors’ would never allow this to become public knowledge. But no one took into account Andrea’s vindictiveness. Then again perhaps they did, only the solution was late in coming.”
Andrea’s journals might be less of a danger than Ann Ryan’s tongue. “Ann you’re pissed at Mike,” Devlin said. “So you’re feeding me a tale.” He tried to laugh but it fizzled quickly and he warned. “I hope you don’t ever repeat this nonsense to someone else.”
“Really, Tom.” She shrugged. “Unlike you darling, I was born to the purple. I still have high hopes that Michael will marry me. Now that he needs a mum for his surrogate son, I’ll do as you always suggested and hold out for the proper ring bit. It’s ironic that so much sinning should consummate in the birth of this child—I only spent the morning with him but Gavin is really a wonderful little boy. The Clarks’ influence must be stronger than his genes.”
Michael O’Neill, who had spent the morning with this child was inclined to agree. It was inconceivable, that Nelson and O’Neill genes could produce the kind of temperament Gavin had.
~~~
Soon it became necessary to answer his questions and perhaps because the man realized there was no easy way to tell the boy, he did so rather bluntly. Finishing the tale with, “They’re both dead, Gavin.”
The boy, who had sat in numb shock, now reacted hysterically. Screaming and crying at the same time, he leaped up and tore out into the wooded area of the park with the man in pursuit. O’Neill cursed his stupidity in bringing the boy here.
The trees, with their thick undergrowth, were maneuvered easily by the light frame of the youngster; while the big man, grown use to city living, blundered through them. Sharp branches struck at his naked arms thrown up to protect his face. Dead twigs, crushed beneath his bulk, grew wet with squashed greenery. Several times he nearly slipped before overtaking the child. Grabbing Gavin around the waist proved a wise move. Kicking legs connected with the man’s kneecaps as he wrapped the howling boy in his arms.
“LET ME ALONE! LET ME GO!”
O’Neill took the brunt of the pounding fists on his chest. Holding tightly, he slid down against a wide tree. Having taken all the punishment he felt he deserved for the present, he captured the trashing legs between his own knees and grabbed the tiny wrists in his large hands. No longer able to indulge his rage, Gavin buried his face in the man’s neck and sobbed, “I want my daddy! My real daddy! You go away!”
“Gavin.” His mouth worked against the soft black hair. “It wasn’t my doing. I didn’t take away your daddy. Damn, I wish I could give him back to you. But I can’t lad.”
Soon the child’s struggles became nervous shivering and his tantrum dissolved into weak whimpers as the strength fled the small body. O’Neill held the boy close trying to absorb some of his sorrow. “I know I’m not much,” he offered. “Nowhere near like your real daddy; but I’m all I’ve got to offer, lad.”
Michael O’Neill carried Gavin as he trudged back to his car. He was careful not to release him until he safely engaged the lock on the passenger’s door. Gavin curled into a ball hiding his head in his arms. Respecting the boy’s right to his private suffering, O’Neill drove in silence. He didn’t so much as glance over, until Gavin sat up on his own, rubbed his nose, and sniffled loudly. He passed him a Kleenex; Gavin ignored it and drew his bare arm across his nostrils. When the adult didn’t correct him, he tried it again. The man said nothing. Gavin picked up the paper hanky and began to shred it. Still the man said nothing.
“Mike?” O’Neill cautiously nodded and Gavin whimpered, “I’m awful scared.”
“No cause to be. No one is about to harm you. Do you think I’d let them?”
Now the tears flowed gently down the flushed cheeks. “Mike, my mommy and daddy are never coming back?”
“Sorry, lad, but that’s the way it is.”
“Will I stay with you forever now?”
“Suppose, as long as you are of a mind too. Say? How would you like to drive the car?”
Interest quickly filled the young face. “Could I? Honest?”
“Crawl on my lap.” The man helped the boy to situate himself before he warned, “You can’t ever do this in the city nor with anybody but me.”
Gavin clutched the wheel tightly, unaware the big hand on the bottom was actually steering. He’s eyes stared hard at the pavement he thought he was maneuvering. Then a new worry entered his young mind. “Mike, are Lori and Lulu dead too?”
“Of course not. They’re in Clovis with your grandparents.” Now that the subject had been breached, it occurred to the man that the boy might prefer Darrell Clark’s parents to himself. After all, the Clarks had been family to Gavin since birth. “Gavin?” he asked. “Would you rather I took you to Clovis so you could stay with your grandparents?”
For a time the child concentrated on the road. Then finally he mumbled, “I like my grandpa, he takes me fishing and…” He chewed for a time on his lower lip. Then timidly he asked, “Mike, you wouldn’t want me to go would you, Mike?”
“Heck, no, not unless you wanted too.” The man blew gently on the area where the child’s neck blended into his hair and caused a giggle. They were nearing the city and traffic was getting heavy. People glared at the pompous man in his expensive car, with nerve enough to hold a child illegally behind the wheel.
“Got to move you over, lad. But I’ll let you drive again,” he promised.
Gavin squirmed into the passenger seat then knelt and leaned dangerously on the padded dash. Unwilling to make an issue of any misconduct, O’Neill kept his speed at a minimum with one hand poised to grab the urchin if he was forced to brake.
Finally, on his own, Gavin sat down properly. Then, as if considering that it was only right he make this decision, he said quite seriously. “Mike? If I stay with you, can I ever see my sisters again?”
“Naturally.”
“And Grandpa and Grandma?”
“Of course.”
“You’ll take me to visit them like my daddy did?”
“Sure, lots of times.”
“Mike, will you be my daddy now?”
“About like that. But you don’t have to call me daddy.” O’Neill’s face flushed with the deep sense of guilt he felt.
When Andrea told him about her pregnancy, he truly believed the child was John’s and he advised her to get an abortion. When she had Lucy Clark call him that night, the night Andrea almost died, he’d flown immediately to her side. But the worse was over when he got there. Lucy had taken the newborn to the hospital and Andrea was alone in that New Mexico hotel where she’d given birth.
“It’s your kid, Mike,” she said. “I’m not lying to you, but you needn’t concern yourself. I’m going to let the Clarks’ adopt him. They are a great couple and he will be a damn sight better off that way than with either of us.”
Gavin found a left over sniffle. “I’m gonna miss my real daddy and mommy.” Then he shyly grinned up at the man as he said, “Mike, I’m glad you like me.”
“You and me Gavin, we’ll work it out.”
And his son repeated, “You and me.”
Chapter 78
New York, 1984
Ann Ryan, had only been mothering the child for a few weeks, but knew an instant sense of loss as she tucked Gavin in beside his grandmother in the rear seat of the large Lincoln town car. Mrs. Nelson was enforcing a court order that allowed her to spend two weeks with her grandson. Yes, Ann thought, I’m going to miss this little boy. Those people who claimed environment was as important as heredity were definitely right in Gavin’s case. The years the child had spent in the care of that loving couple in New Mexico had left their mark. There was nothing in Gavin’s personality that reminded Ann of his biological parents be they Nelson, Connors, or O’Neill. When Gavin threw his arms around her neck and kissed her goodbye, Ann actually fought an urge to grab him out of the car and keep him safe with her.
So while she made plans for the days of freedom, Ann Ryan watched Michael O’Neill suffer as he prowled his empty house and could understand why. She missed the antics of the child as much as his father did.
It was only the second evening since Gavin’s departure when Michael announced, “Had a chat with Kate this morning. She’s got the summer place open. With the Connors boys off politicking the place is fairly empty. Invited me down. I’m headed to the shore for a breather—you want to come along?”
Kate, Ann knew was Catherine Connors and Michael O’Neill was the only person alive who dared to call his cousin Kate. “Michael, do you think that’s wise?” Ann said. “What if Gavin sees us? He wasn’t too keen on going. And Candace could claim you were interfering with her visitation privileges.”
“That’s tough. She’s got my kid.”
“Mich…ael…he is her grandson.” Ann forced a smile. “She won’t do him any harm.”
“Not claiming she would,” he admitted. “But that damn ocean can be a dangerous place for a little boy. Don’t remember Candace Nelson being a very protective mama with Andrea.”
And how could you, Ann thought, but chose not to remind him, that Andrea was a teenager before he ever knew her. Ann remembered a much different Nelson family life when they were children. Neither did she inform him of how stupid it was to think he could prevent anything from half a mile away at the Connors’ compound. She only said, “You know if it will make you feel better, I’ll set my plans aside and go with you.”
Chapter 79
Ocean City, 1984
Though Ocean City was normally classified among Ann’s favorite places on Earth, she detested it this time of year. The droves of automobiles polluting the air as they followed head to tail over Ninth Street bridge from Summers Point or converged on the island by way of Long Port bridge from other vacation spots already over-crowed at the tip of New Jersey, turned the beautiful island into a messy unruly land of tourists. The Blue Laws that protected the island from loud nightclubs and drunken brawls that infected places like Atlantic City, Wildwood or Cap May, along the Jersey shore, were the very problem that drew Ocean City’s family friendly trade.
The baking hot sand turned the protective tongs mushy on her feet. She kept adjusting the visor on the hat that covered the top of her short hair. Ann Ryan never wore sunglasses in the sun. They had a tendency to allow the rest of her face to burn while the remaining white skin around her eyes left her resembling an owl.
Michael hates this much as I do, Ann thought. These rude unthinking people, with their noisy and destructive youngsters; normally he would never subject himself to this. Big proud Mike, she grinned unconsciously as she watched the man stalking through the sand as if he were knight on some holy mission. He’d surprised her when he openly admitted that what brought him out in this sunlight, heat, and noise that he hated so was concern for Gavin.
Ann reluctantly attempted to keep up with the angry man as they followed the couple, with the young boy jogging between them, apparently headed for the boardwalk.
They’d been having lunch at a small restaurant on Ocean Ave, when O’Neill spotted the trio from the window.
“What the hell is he doing with my kid?”
Ann’s glanced out the window. O’Neill was already starting to rise when she caught his arm. “Please, don’t start something. Obviously the direction they’re heading—I’d think the boards? Sit down and finish your lunch.” She tugged slightly at his arm.
He slipped back in the booth, but his hard stare continued to the follow the couple escorting Gavin until they passed out of sight. “What do you think he’s doing here?” Now O’Neill, who had been enjoying the ribs, only pushed the food around on his plate.
“Michael, honestly,” Ann attempted to soothe his anger. “You know the history Hal Dexter shared with the judge. The judge invested a lot of time and money making life better for Hal. He probably feels some obligation to Nelson’s widow. The man apparently never had much in the way of family so it’s not so unusual he would attach himself to Candace now that Alvin is dead. You know Candace loves people around her. He’s most likely just visiting.”
“Gavin’s scared of him. After that New Mexico stunt.”
“Gavin didn’t look scared to me.” Ann corrected with a light smile. “In fact he looked like he was having a great time. Hal is a lawman. He’s not about to harm Gavin. And that attractive young lady with them seems to have captured both males attention.”
