She said, “So much violence and machismo.”
While the boys were target practicing she walked a few feet away.
I followed her, then stood next to her and watched the boys.
She said, “Hawks and the Bajan saved us.”
“They did. They watched over you.”
“He had sent people to slaughter us. To kill me and my sons.”
“That was the plan.”
“Is he really dead? I know I have asked you that so many times. But are you sure? I am still afraid. Very afraid. Is Mr. Midnight really dead?”
I took out my phone. I showed her the images of Medianoche after his fall from grace. I studied her fear. Her face lost its color.
“You should have dismembered and burned his body. You should have dragged his carcass through the streets for what he has done.”
Her anger, the fear and coldness surprised me.
I popped my lips. “Mr. Midnight was my father.”
She pulled her lips in, but said nothing as her mood changed.
I said, “Let’s walk over there and talk.”
“About?”
“Lies that have been told.”
Forty yards from the boys, when I stopped walking, she stood next to me, gun in hand, lips twisted, much on her mind as she kicked dirt.
Her voice was uneven. “What lies, Jean-Claude?”
My mother wore slim jeans. Pink chucks. White T-shirt. Atlanta Braves baseball cap. She looked young, small and delicate. I had on worn Levi’s and an aged Batman T-shirt. Brown steel-toe boots that had seen better days. Everything I had on I had picked up at Goodwill.
I said, “I need us to be honest with each other.”
“What have I done wrong this time?”
I told her there were hidden cameras in the house. I told her that was how I was able to look inside of her home. I used my phone, connected to the system, and let her view what I could see when I had monitored the house in Powder Springs. I revealed where each camera was located.
She was outraged. “Why would you put cameras in my home?”
I put the phone away. “To protect you and my brothers.”
“You are far away, and somehow a camera is supposed to protect us? You lie. Why would you violate my privacy in such a way? You bring me back to America, give me a house, then put cameras in almost every room so you can spy on me? Is that house my prison or my home?”
“I will give you the codes. The password. And you can change it to whatever you want it to be. You can look in the house before you come home. At night you can monitor outside and be sure you’re safe.”
“Secret cameras. That was how you knew about Jeremy.”
“Yeah, that’s how.”
“You will not be able to spy inside my home after this day?”
“Not unless you want me to keep surveillance.”
“Why would you do that to someone?”
“You know why. Because of what you did to me when I was a boy.”
She shuddered. “I am not that person. I was young. Stupid. Afraid.”
“Tell me about Nathalie Marie Masreliez. Tell me about Yerres.”
She kicked dirt and shook her head. “Leave my past in the past.”
“Is there any secret you have I need to know?”
“Alvin White is dead. Let that be enough. Let that be your guilt. Let that be the pillow made of rock you try to sleep on each night.”
My jaw tightened and my trigger finger began to hiccup.
She said, “Robert’s mother and Alvin are dead because of you. Live with that. Lose sleep over that. I have every night. I suffer every night.”
“I suffer both day and night. I will take the hit on Robert’s mother. I was careless. That was my fault. Alvin White is dead because he came back here to try and protect you from all of this bullshit you’ve created.”
“Shot many times. Pulled from the river like he was a dead animal. I was his teacher. You involved him in that ugly part of your life, not me.”
“I don’t want to fight with you.”
She snapped, “Then stop whatever you’re doing.”
“I just asked a couple of simple questions.”
“Stop interfering with my life. Stop spying on me.”
“Sure, Nathalie. Sure.”
She looked me in my eyes. “Va te faire foutre, Gideon.”
She cursed me and called me Gideon as an insult.
In French I asked, “Who was Jeremy Bentham?”
“I don’t know any more than what I have already told you.”
“He wasn’t a Horseman. They don’t take you on dates and buy you popcorn before seducing you. They blow your brains out and move on.”
“Then who was he? Why me? What did he want from me?”
“Don’t know. Not yet. The truth always shows up. Remember that. Sooner or later. Every lie has an expiration date. Every lie, large or small.” I took a breath. “Did loverboy Jeremy ever use your computer?”