No Fault of Mine

Chapter Thirty-Six

I had no sooner hung up when my phone chirped again.

"Mia!" a familiar voice said. I thumbed the speaker button on my phone. "It wasn't necessary for it to turn out this way."

"Why are you calling me now?" I asked. "I thought our business was over when one of your goons slugged me at my house and stoled a file marked 'Failsafe.'"

"Oh, Mia, by then, it was too late," he said. He spoke in his low range, his words rattling in my ears. It was at once disturbing and intimate. I shuddered. "In fact, it was too late when you fled town, and we asked you in such a civil manner."

"What do you want, Edward Ducain," I said, intentionally enunciating each syllable of his name.

"So, finally, you know who you're dealing with," he said without a noticeable shift in his voice. "It's a simple formula, Mia. You need something; I need something. You figure it out."

The phone went silent. I howled; the agony generated in my gut exploded in my throat. Then, I screamed until my lungs emptied of air and had no strength. And then, I cried.

Needless to say, our group was shaken. Ann and SueAnn drew close and attempted to soothe me, but my strength had left, and I sunk to my knees.

Someone helped me to a chair, and someone else put a bottle of water in front of me with the cap removed. I slowly oriented and sipped from the bottle.

"'You need something' is an obvious reference to your son," Art said. "But what does he need?"

"I'd say it's a way out of Compton Hills," Barry said.

"Can you call him?" SueAnn asked.

"No, he's blocked his number somehow," I said. "His pattern is to let it simmer in my brain before he calls back."

"'Simmer?'" SueAnn asked. "I'm not sure we have that much time."

"He's in charge of the schedule," I said, "but he's under pressure. He doesn't have a lot of time to waste, does he?"

We organized ourselves into three groups. Ann, the oldest of our team, volunteered to monitor our progress. SueAnn and Barry were a team, as were Liam and me. Art, the recon guy, was on his own, but he had taken two remote cabins well off the road that required a walk-in.

We agreed to call Ann to update her on our progress and get new assignments. We also agreed to keep our ringtone off. Vibrate was enough to alert us of a call. We were to call when we arrived at a rental and again when we left.

We were about to leave when Thad charged into the conference room.

"What the hell is going on?" he thundered.

"What does it look like, Brother?" I asked, pointing to the map on the conference table.

"What this?" he asked.

"Do you want to be a part of this?" I asked. "We're looking for your nephew."

"I AM a part of this," he said with a sneer. "And you're a fool, Mia. You think you can solve every problem. You can't solve this. It's bigger than you. You are too unimportant; you are nothing, and you're asking these people to risk their lives on this stupidity?"

His words struck deep into my heart—not the adult heart, but the heart of the child he terrorized. I shrunk back—the child in me shrunk back.

"Lay off of her," Liam said and stepped between us. Liam's voice reminded me of Dad's: strong, confident, and protective.

"You and Dad were always too weak," Thad said. "This company was nothing until I took over."

"You wouldn't have a company if it weren't for Mia," Liam said. "Now, you're wasting our time. You can leave."

"You're telling me to leave my office?" Thad yelled.

Something clicked in my brain...clarified, really. His office? Where was his office? Something surged through my body; my heart swelled, and my lungs filled with air. "This has never been your office," I said, my voice crackling like electricity on high-tension towers. "Your office is and always has been your pickup. Return to YOUR office, Brother, and consider what you've done."

Thad raised his fist, but Liam caught him by the wrist and held it tight. Thad tried to shake free, but Liam increased his grip. Thad's face flushed, and his neck arteries pulsated.

Arthur stepped in front of Thad and said, "It's time to return to your office, Thad."

Thad relaxed his fist until it disappeared into slacked fingers pointed downward. He looked toward those in the conference room, and for a moment, I thought I saw embarrassment. He abruptly turned toward the exit, stomped across the floor, and paused at the door. He said, "This is the end for you, Mia, and I won't be there to weep."

I was past feeling stunned. I felt only resentment, anger, and maybe pity, but I wasn't sure about pity. I suppose this was better than the child I was once, who felt helpless and fearful.

We stood for a moment, looking at each other, and finally, Liam said, "Family squabbles," and we returned to the work at hand.

By the time Liam and I backed out of the parking space, the other two vehicles were on their way to do their recon.

"Thanks for stepping in," I said.

"Yeah, Thad was ugly," Liam said.

"He's gotten worse lately," I said. "I attribute it to stress. Since Martian's murder, he has become an even more terrible version of himself."

"Oh, no, he had someone else to demean," Liam said. "Your dad and I talked about who should run the company in the event of his death. Pia told him she had her own plans and didn't want to run a construction company. Not wanting much to do with her brother may have been the reason. That left you and your brother. Your dad wanted Thad to be a non-participating owner, but he thought that would immediately create a power struggle. Equal ownership was his answer to the problem, hoping you'd find your voice and stand up to him."

"As I said, Martin insulated me from Thad, and Thad used me to mediate with Martin. That's probably one reason Martin and I settled into a friendly business relationship. I may be stretching it, but that's how it felt to me."

"I heard it from Martin's point of view. He only wanted you to be successful. I think he looked to us as his Mom and Dad, though, of course, we weren't. But we took on the role and were happy about his achievements. I just wish our nephew wasn't so hard to love."

"The adult in me thought I could love him as a brother, but now I'm not so sure."

My phone interrupted us. It was Stan again.

"Mia, we need to talk. Can you meet me at Rickets?"

"Didn't we just talk? What more do we need to say to each other?" I asked.

"One of the gang has given us some information I think you need to know."

"Tell me now. We don't need to meet directly," I said.

"Mia, it's about your son."