Page 72 of Maximum
“I’m afraid that I’m with Liv. Conor was definitely a psychopath.”
“Yes, it’s very possible that he was. Maybe it’s my protective mother instinct that wants to downplay the threat of his genes polluting my family.”
“So, you worry too?”
“I wouldn’t say that I worry, but I’m aware.” Jolene reached out her hand to me. “But don’t forget that even if one of us has a child with those same traits, it doesn’t mean that he’ll be a monster who ends up killing people. There are plenty of people living relatively normal lives with an ASPD diagnosis. Some are highly driven and successful individuals.”
“Right.” My eyes drifted to Rose, and raising my hand I gently caressed her soft locks of brown hair. “She’s so sweet.”
Jolene grinned. “Until she throws a hissy fit.”
Popping his head in through the French doors, Charles called out to us. “Come have some food.”
With Rose holding my hand, we walked outside to the long table that stood under an awning with fairy lights along the edges.
Fleur was still carrying Shane, who’d fallen asleep. Careful not to wake him, she put him down in the baby pram that Lumi and Damian had placed alongside the house.
“You’re an angel,” Lumi exclaimed when Fleur came to sit at the table with the rest of us.
Soon food was passed around and conversations flowed across the table.
“Actually, I thought that we could have a family meeting after dinner,” Atlas announced. “Maximum raised some questions about Conor a few months ago and now that we’re all here, I think it would be an important discussion to have as a family.”
“What kind of questions?” Damian asked.
“He wanted to know about Conor’s background.”
Damian groaned and spoke with his strong Irish accent. “Can’t we just leave that focker buried and never talk about him again?”
“That’s what all of you have done so far, but for Maximum and me it’s a little hard when we share DNA with the man. I’ve been waiting for any of you to show an interest in the work I started over ten years ago and rather than give answers to Maximum alone, I thought it would be interesting for all of you to hear the story of Conor O’Brien.”
Liv nodded. “I agree. It’s time to demystify the monster.”
“Will there be a Power-Point presentation?” Nathan joked and reached over the table to grab a plate of asparagus.
“Yes, and a pop quiz afterward,” Atlas retorted.
Nathan sighed. “I’m with Damian… why can’t we just have a nice family gathering and not speak about our troubled past?”
Serena shot Nathan a meaningful look. “I’m interested in what Atlas has to say. You never want to talk about Conor, so I’ll stay and listen.”
“Fine.” Nathan shrugged. “But Damian and I are bringing beers to swallow down the bile.”
When it was time for dessert we brought our ice cream to the home theater, where Atlas connected his computer to the large flatscreen TV while we each found a seat in one of the large reclining leather chairs or on the floor in front of them.
Like a schoolteacher, Atlas got up to stand next to the screen, pushing his glasses in place before displaying a picture of a boy.
“This is Conor O’Brien at the age of five. Back then his name was Jeremy Fisher, but he later changed it several times. We have very little information about him before this picture was taken on the day he was put up for foster care. According to his papers his mother, Catherine Fisher was twenty-two when she was killed in a car accident. She was unmarried and there was no father in the picture.”
“Wow, that means she was only sixteen when she got pregnant with Conor. Must have been quite the scandal,” Lumi pointed out.
Atlas changed the photo to a dull-looking row house.
“This is the Petersons’ family home in Sutton. It’s where Conor ended up eventually after going through the system. First, he stayed in an orphanage for about seven months and according to his papers, he was described as a bright but quiet boy. At the age of six he was placed in foster care with the Ainsley family but for some reason he only stayed for three months until he was planted in Sutton.”
“Where’s that?” Jolene asked.
“It’s a suburb to London,” River answered before Atlas continued.
