Stranger on the Shore - lanyon Josh (лучшие книги читать онлайн бесплатно TXT) 📗

Jarrett picked up the camera box. “Either way, this is yours.”

“I can’t—”

“No. Listen to me, Griffin. This is not a bribe. These are two separate matters. The camera is yours.”

The box was in his hands and he was being shown out of the study, Jarrett’s hand resting on his shoulder with every appearance of affection. “Come to think of it, we’re having a small party tonight to welcome Brian home. Just family and a few close friends. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t know about that.” Actually, he did know about that. He thought it was a horrible idea. For a lot of reasons.

“I think it’s an excellent idea. Pierce will be there.”

Griff threw Jarrett a quick look, but Jarrett was smiling mischievously, seemingly unaware that the situation had changed between Griff and Pierce.

“Come,” Jarrett coaxed. “Talk with Brian. Hear his side of the situation. If nothing else, it will give you a chance to say goodbye to everyone.”

Goodbye. Of everything Jarrett had said so far, that single word was the one that really hurt.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Brian—Leland Alvin, rather—was seated on the marble bench in the tunnel of trees. He rose as Griff walked toward him, offering a sunny smile.

“New camera?”

“Is there something you want to say to me?” Griff was still too angry to fake friendliness.

“A lot of things. Let’s walk down to the cottage together. I want to make sure my mother’s journal doesn’t leave the estate with you.”

Griff gave him a look of disbelief. But that last had to be Muriel talking. She had always been possessive about Gemma’s journal. She could relax, though, because whatever she feared was in there wasn’t, as far as Griff could tell. “Suit yourself.”

He expected Alvin to launch into accusations about Griff snooping into his past, but they walked a few steps in silence before Alvin said, “Are you going to write the book?”

“Why does the idea of this book make you so nervous?”

Alvin met his eyes and once again Griff had that eerie sense of looking into a distorted mirror. Alvin said, “I’m a private person. Is that so hard to understand? I don’t want my private life dragged out into the open for people to ooh and ah over.”

“That’s going to happen anyway. Every newspaper in the country is going to be covering this story. Reporters with a lot more experience and resources than me are going to be asking questions. You’re news, whether you like it or not.”

Alvin didn’t like it. That was clear from his expression. “Jarrett will have something to say about that.”

“I’m sure he will, but even Jarrett doesn’t tell the New York Times what to print.”

Alvin brooded over this for a minute or two before shrugging it off. “I’ll put my money on the old man. So? Are you still writing the book?”

“I’m taking twenty-four hours to weigh my options.”

“If you don’t take that deal, you’re stupid. Jarrett will pay whatever you like.” Alvin added, “Within reason. Don’t get greedy.”

“I’m not greedy. And it’s not just about money.”

“Then I don’t know what it is about.”

Griff stopped walking and faced him. “Really? Because I thought that was the gist of your story. You didn’t let anyone know you were alive because you were uncomfortable with the idea of inheriting all this.” He waved impatiently at the surrounding parkland.

“I’m talking about you. If you’re publishing a book, you want to make money. Right?”

Griff started walking again. Alvin caught up and kept pace with him.

“So don’t be stupid. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Right? The Arlingtons are powerful people. You don’t want to make enemies.”

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

“You’re a bad loser, Hadley.” Alvin was smiling. Confident once more.

Griff said, “You’re not Brian. And we both know it.”

It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say. Griff couldn’t help it. He was beginning to hate Alvin with a passion that surprised even him.

Maybe that showed because Alvin’s eyes narrowed. He said, “You don’t care if I’m Brian or not. That’s the truth. You wanted this for yourself.”

“You’re crazy!”

Alvin shook his head. “I knew the second I laid eyes on you what you were really after.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Griff spoke with contempt, but he was aware of a niggle of doubt. He had acknowledged to himself that he was too invested, identifying too strongly with this story. So much so that a couple of times it had even gone through his mind—

No.

His heart jumped and he felt that instant wave of cold, sick dread. It was like being confronted with a heavy and forbidding iron door, something absolutely immovable—understanding that somehow you had to get through that door—while at the same time knowing with certainty that something even more terrible waited on the other side. He had been stuck outside that door since arriving at the Arlington estate, and he was starting to feel more and more desperate.

Alvin was still talking, and Griff forced himself to pay attention. “But here’s the truth. I am Brian. Nothing can change that.” He looked at Griff, waiting for him to respond.

Griff didn’t answer. Couldn’t really.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the cottage, Griff expected Alvin to barge in, but he waited on the doorstep until Griff got the journal and handed it over. It was not easy. He had come to feel close to Gemma, to feel protective of her, and handing over her most painful, private thoughts to someone like Alvin felt like a betrayal.

Alvin took the journal without a glance. “There’s an expiration date on that deal Jarrett made you. Don’t fuck around, Hadley, or you’ll end up with nothing. Anyway—” he pointed to his own forehead, “—looks to me like your investigation already hit a wall.” He grinned.

“Is that what Dirk told you? Nah. Rough party,” Griff said. “Speaking of which, I’ll see you tonight.”

He shut the door in Alvin’s startled face.

* * *

He packed before he dressed for the party.

It was his last night and he was hoping he would spend it with Pierce. They hadn’t discussed it. Pierce might not even realize Griff was leaving the next day. Either way Griff would be on the road at the crack of dawn. He still had no idea what answer he would give Jarrett.

In fact, all afternoon he struggled with an uncharacteristic but almost overwhelming sense of depression. Twice it got so bad he almost phoned Pierce. He honestly couldn’t think of anyone else to call, which worried him all the more.

He felt caught and confused, and the worst part was he wasn’t sure why. The smart thing, the sensible thing, would be to accept Jarrett’s offer. He had put in enough of his own time and financial resources on this project that it was reasonable to try and recoup his costs. Jarrett wanted to ease his conscience—maybe it was even more than that, maybe he had come to feel some affection for Griff—and why not let Jarrett do that?

Why not just this once make life easy for himself?

Instantly he could hear his mother’s voice warning about being beholden, about selling his soul, about the dangers of accepting anything from anyone, especially rich people, but lately the echo of her dire words sounded more like a rant than wisdom. Why was it only now he was recognizing how much fear had lain behind her anger?

Fear of what?

It was a good thing he was leaving this place. He hadn’t been himself since he’d arrived. Before he had come to Winden House everything had been safe and certain. Now he was confused and worried. So confused he wasn’t even completely sure what he was confused about. Jarrett Arlington was willing to give him a hundred thousand dollars and never bat an eye—and Griff felt like his heart was breaking.