the brass placard that identified his suite of offices.
“President and CEO,” Juliet read aloud. “Impressive.”
“It would be if I hadn’t simply inherited the job.”
She glanced back at him, her forehead creased. “From what I hear, you’ve done miraculous things. In just five short years, you’ve turned this company into the leader in a very competitive industry.”
“You’ve done your homework.” It made him uneasy. She’d come armed.
She nodded. But didn’t explain. Nor did she meet his eyes, focusing instead on his inner sanctum.
“Nice. I like all the windows. The view is magnificent.”
He stood beside her as she stared down at the city. “Nothing quite beats the ocean, in my opinion, but this is nice, too. I just imagine that all those buildings are gone and then there it is.”
What kind of sappy idiot was he turning into? So he might go to jail. He’d handle it just as he’d handled everything else that had come his way.
“What did I miss on the noon news?” It was time to get on with it.
“Oh, Blake…” She turned, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. “Eaton James killed himself this morning.”
“What?” His stomach dropped. Another suicide? The brightness in the room diminished, as though the sun had gone behind a cloud. A cloud that was following him, would continue to follow him, for the rest of his life?
He had nothing to do with this one. Nothing.
“What happened?”
“Apparently he said goodbye to his wife and kids as usual when she left to take them to school. This was her morning to volunteer at a food bank. Then he went out to the garage, ran a vacuum cleaner hose from the exhaust to the back window of his antique Model T, turned on the car and climbed inside. When his wife came home a couple of hours later, he was dead, slumped over the steering wheel.”
“God.” What was it with people taking the easy way out and leaving their loved ones behind to deal with the consequences?
Not that he really knew about that. It wasn’t as though his father had killed himself. Or that he himself had still been among Amunet’s loved ones. Still, the sting was so acutely felt, so real. “Did he leave a note?”
Amunet had. And it had only brought about more questions with no answers.
“Just to tell his wife that his life insurance wouldn’t pay her anything because of the circumstances of his death, but that the money in the Cayman Islands would be hers when it was freed up and should be enough to care for her and the kids for the rest of her life.”
Blake’s skin was cold. “That was it?” No I love yous? Nothing to tell her children? His children?
“Except for the name of a man he recommended to handle her financial affairs, saying he was someone she could trust.”
Blake stood there, staring out at a day that looked exactly the same as it had mere moments before. And felt as dark as night.
Two weeks ago, he’d been a busy, if somewhat reclusive, builder with a moderately quiet life. Today, standing in that same office, he was living in a world gone mad.
CHAPTER NINE
NOW THAT SHE WAS THERE, Juliet wondered if she should have come. She’d heard Blake’s voice on the phone and thrown all thoughts to the wind but one. She wanted to tell him about James herself and in person.
As though his calm presence could somehow dissipate the unease inside her.
They stood at the window of his office, staring out at all the people below. They’d been there yesterday. And would be tomorrow. But how often did anyone stop to think about what those people were feeling? Did anyone consider the suffering of those they passed on the street? Or even acknowledge that every single one of them had problems and sorrows and regrets?
“Why didn’t you tell me this on the phone?”
Heat rose up Juliet’s neck to her cheeks. “I’m not sure,” she had to admit. She had no time to figure out another way to present the truth. “I overreacted.”
He turned. She could see him in her peripheral vision, looking at her. “You’re sure there’s not more to it than that?”
“Schuster’s meeting with the grand jury this morning. He’d subpoenaed Eaton James to testify.” That was at least part of it.
Hands in the pockets of his tailored slacks, he rocked back and forth in his expensive leather shoes. “Is he going to get the indictment?”
“My professional opinion?” she asked, peering up at him.
He nodded, staring outside again. She could feel his tension, though whether it was because he stiffened beside her, or because her heart was in some way connected, she wasn’t sure.
Wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Yes.”
He nodded then. That was all. Juliet needed more.
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it thinking.” He glanced down at her. “Right now I’m pretty close to a state of panic.”
She wanted to help him. Needed to help him. To reassure him. And knew that, with Blake, only the cold hard facts would do.
“You have no criminal record and present no danger to the community. They aren’t going to arrest you. You’ll receive a subpoena for arraignment, appear before a judge and Schuster—they’ll appoint an attorney to defend you if you don’t already have your own—and you’ll enter a plea of guilty or not guilty. A trial date will be set, probably about three months later, and then it’s business as usual except that you’ll most likely be told not to leave the country.”
“What exactly should I expect to be charged with?”
She didn’t want to answer that. “Since more than a hundred thousand dollars is involved, I would count on at least one count of theft, fraud due to misrepresentation, and because another individual was involved—your father—there’ll probably also be a charge of conspiracy.”
He paled. “At least one count?”
“If it’s proven that James took investors’ money to pay your father, there could be as many counts of fraud as there were investors.”
His jaw tight, Blake gazed out again, but no longer down at the people below. From something he’d said earlier, she suspected he was looking for the ocean beyond the buildings, hidden from view. Would there come a time when he wouldn’t be free to go to the beach, listen to the waves, feel the sand beneath his feet, and the water lapping at his toes, see the great whitecaps jump up the sides of ships and crash against rocks that were slowly being worn by their force?
“So then what?”
“You go to trial,” she said. “If you’re charged as I described, there will be a twelve-member jury, which will probably take a couple of days to select. Could be longer. The trial itself could last several weeks.”
She paused, hating to do this to him.
Blake’s whole body was rigid, his expression unyielding, as though he was braced to hear it all at once. For some people, that was easiest.
“Remember, this will be a new jury and any evidence that’s already been brought forth on the Eaton Estates deal or anything else pertinent to your father’s association with Eaton James will have to be reintroduced.”
“What kind of effect is James’s suicide going to have on the jury?”
She shrugged. “Depending on how it’s presented, it could work in your