Page 32 of A Legal Affair
“What choice do I have? If I don’t, we both know what will happen.”
“Then let it happen,” snarled Caleb. “Maybe it’ll put an end to this senseless feud once and for all.”
His father’s nostrils flared. “There’s nothing ‘senseless’ about any of this. Your mother died?—”
“That’s right, Dad, shedied!Died because of a horrible secret you kept from her, from us, until it was too late!” Angrily he lunged from his chair and stalked a few feet away, shoving hishands into his pockets to keep from smashing his fists through the wall and bringing the glass roof down on their heads.
Crandall watched his son pace the floor, a caged panther dressed entirely in black—black t-shirt, black jeans, black boots.
“We both know Philbin’s bluffing,” Caleb growled. “If he really knew anything, he would’ve gone public a long time ago.”
“Be that as it may,” Crandall said tersely, “I can’t afford to take any chances. I’ll send someone over to your place to sweep for bugs or other surveillance equipment. I’m not being paranoid,” he added at Caleb’s scowl. “My sources tell me he’s digging for information again.”
“He’s beendiggingfor years.”
“Yes, but now he may have employed the services of a local private investigator. I have my people looking into it.”
Caleb’s harsh crack of laughter reverberated around the glass-walled room. “When does it ever end?” he bitterly demanded. “You havehiminvestigated, he hasyouinvestigated, back and forth, wash, rinse, repeat. When the hell does it ever end?”
“Dammit, Caleb—” Beside Crandall, the dialysis machine beeped loudly in protest.
Half a moment later, the door swung open and Ruth strode into the room, her brisk, purposeful strides carrying her swiftly to Crandall’s side. She checked the machine, then made an adjustment that quieted the alarm.
In the ensuing silence, father and son glowered at each other like a pair of gunslingers facing off in an old western.
Ruth frowned, holding Crandall’s wrist and checking her watch. “Your blood pressure’s skyrocketing,” she scolded. “What on earth have you been doing in here?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled like a recalcitrant child.
Ruth sent a stern look over her shoulder at Caleb, who stood with his hands braced on his hips, vibrating with restrained fury.“If this were a clinic, you know I couldn’t allow you more than ten minutes an hour with him. Do I need to escort you out, Caleb?”
“No, ma’am,” he mumbled, shamefaced. “It won’t happen again.”
“Be sure that it doesn’t.” With one final warning look at her patient, she stalked out of the room—this time leaving the door wide open.
For several moments neither man spoke.
At length Caleb scrubbed his hands over his face and shoved out a deep, weary breath. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
“I know that,” his father said gruffly, “and believe me, I don’t want to argue with you, either. Truth be told, I’m glad you stopped by today. You’re a sight for sore eyes, son.”
Caleb walked back to the armchair he’d vacated, sat and propped his elbows on his thighs, the fight drained out of him.
“How’s the first week of classes going?” Crandall asked, making an attempt at safe conversation.
“Fine, thanks.”
“And what about your pretty lawyer friend? Does she still teach with you? You haven’t mentioned her name in quite a while. Any particular reason?”
“No,” Caleb answered dryly, knowing his father was fishing for information that wasn’t there. “And, yes, she still teaches at the university. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”
Crandall gave him a long, appraising look. “When are you going to marry her?”
Caleb smiled grimly. “How’d I know that question was coming?”
“Because you’ve been avoiding it for years.”
“Shara and I aren’t getting married, Dad. We’re just friends.”
