Shocked into silence, Claire strode out of the office. Emilie followed closely behind, ignoring the stares of her coworkers. Claire stopped short at the entrance and faced Emilie.

"You deserve what happened to you," she hissed. "The Taker should have corrected my mistake."

"What's that, Mother? Giving birth to me?"

"Yes. You never should have been born. You ruined everything."

Emilie waited for the expected rush of pain and the resulting tears, but instead she felt only pity for her mother. "No, Claire, you did." She didn't bother to lower her voice. "Your black soul ruined your own life. Maybe one day you'll be able to hold yourself accountable."

Claire stepped back as though she'd been slapped. Her expression morphed from stunned to calculating. "Very well, then. If you want to know the real truth about your father, you'll contact me before I leave town tomorrow. I'm staying at the Hilton."

"I know enough about him. The rest I can learn on my own."

"Oh, sweetheart, you know nothing. Nothing at all."

She disappeared out the double doors, leaving Emilie's head swimming. Had that just been a last ditch attempt to get into her head, or was there more to the story?

"Well, well." Lisa's snide voice cut through the heavy silence. "That was like an episode of All My Children. Thanks for the afternoon entertainment, Emilie.

"I can't imagine how humiliated you must feel, growing up so unloved and then having your mother curse you in front of all your coworkers."

Emilie gripped the door handle. Pain shot through her clenched jaw. "Lisa, if you don't have anything better to do than eavesdrop, why don't you take the rest of the day off without pay?"

Lisa started to argue, but Jeremy cut her off. "That's enougheveryone back to work. Lisa, go home. Em, are you all right? Do you need anything?"

"Just some air."

Emilie pushed the door open and stepped out into the afternoon heat. She took a deep breath. The smell of cigarette smoke a.s.saulted her. She turned toward the direction of the scent. At the end of the block, her mother leaned against a rented Cadillac, a plume of smoke surrounding her.

"Thought you'd come out here," Claire drawled. "Curiosity got the best of you, huh?"

"I hoped you'd be gone."

"Just giving you one last chance."

"For what? To hear more of your lies?"

"Oh, I a.s.sure you, this is the truth." Claire waited for a group of businessmen to pa.s.s by and then walked to the trunk of her car. She dug through its contents and pulled out a manila envelope. "It's right here. Your birth certificate says it all."

"What?"

"G.o.d, you're dense. You haven't figured it out by now?"

"That you're a manipulative b.i.t.c.h? Yeah, I got it."

"Nice way to speak to your mother." Claire glanced around. She wouldn't want to make a scene on the street.

"You get what you give."

"Do you really think I left Mark because I didn't want to stay in that town?"

"It wasn't big enough for you. Not enough social status."

"Coos Bay is a small town. Mark worked for the biggest C.P.A. firm. He would have done well for himself. I would have been a big fish in a little pond."

"Right. The only person you're capable of loving is yourself."

"That's because of you. Being with Mark was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Until I came along. I get it."

"No, you don't, you stupid girl."

"Then what?" Emilie exploded. Pa.s.sersby scurried away, and squawking pigeons flew out of the adjacent alley. "What don't I get? Because it's pretty clear to me that you didn't want to be a mother. You blame me for your decision to lie to everyone."

Claire stalked around to the driver's side. "Get in."

Emilie yanked the pa.s.senger door open and plopped into the seat. She was tempted to spit in her mother's face. But she wanted to hear the truth.

"I blame you for existing." Claire balled her fist and pounded it on the steering wheel. "You weren't supposed to happen. Not with him."

"What?"

"Mark isn't your biological father."

"Is that the best you've got?"

"It's true." Claire flung the envelope at her. "It's all on record."

"There's no way you could have known that without Mark knowing too..." Emilie's well of anger bottomed out, sinking into her turning stomach until her strength deflated.

"I knew when I got pregnant it couldn't be his. We hadn't had s.e.x in over a month. But I had one night out while he was working late-one drunken mistake-and then you showed up."

"Mark would have known I couldn't be his." Emilie clung to a futile hope.

"Not if I didn't tell him when I got pregnant. I was farther along when I left than I said I was," Claire said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "He thought I'd miscarried, and Mother and Dad had no idea. It was simple."

"So that's why you hated me." Emilie sagged into the seat. "It all makes sense now. Why didn't you just get an abortion?"

"A what?" Claire's mouth dropped open. She put her hand over her black heart. "You know I don't believe in that."

"And yet you had no problem making my life miserable."

"Mark and I were supposed to have our own babies and be together for the rest of our lives." Claire's screech rang through the car. "But you were the punishment for one stupid mistake."

"Why did you leave? You could have convinced him I was his."

"Mark wasn't stupid. He would have figured it out. And you can't exactly fake a premature birth. I didn't have any choice."

"You could have told the truth, begged for a second chance. Tried to do the right thing for once in your pathetic life." Emilie's chest hurt from fighting back a sob.

"And have Mark look at me like a piece of trash? That wasn't going to happen. It was better if he believed I was broken. That way...that way I could leave knowing he still loved me, that he still believed in us."

"That way you didn't have to suffer any consequences. All about Claire, as usual."

"I suffered plenty," Claire yelled. "Every time I looked at you I was reminded of my mistake and what I lost. And then Mark shows up and thinks you're his. Do you have any idea what that was like?"

"You're despicable." Emilie couldn't listen any more. "Even now, more than thirty years later, you still blame an innocent child for your stupidity. Why admit the truth after all this time?"

"Because I was tired of being the only one who knew." Claire smoothed her dress and took a deep breath. "Someone else should share the burden."

"Just the answer I expected. Goodbye, Mother." Emilie shoved open the door and lurched toward the bank. She refused to let Claire see her break down.

"I wish I'd gone against G.o.d and gotten rid of you," Claire shouted in one last attempt to win. "You ruined my life." She stood beside the Cadillac, a fresh cigarette dangling from her mouth.

She paused at WestOne's entrance and looked back at her mother. Beneath the bright Nevada sun, her thick makeup slowly melting, she looked every bit as haggard as she was on the inside.

"Likewise, Mother. Likewise."

Chapter Twenty-Three.

A shout came from inside the house, followed by a series of rapid bangs. Nathan's footsteps were feather-light on the recently repaired front steps. Despite the humming of an overworked air conditioner, an upstairs window had been opened. Male voices argued over a blaring radio.

The front door was unlocked. Nathan inched it open. What the h.e.l.l was he doing here, especially by himself? He should know better than to attempt something like this alone. Things would likely end up worse than before.

A burly man in paint-splattered jeans and a sweaty red T-shirt ambled down the staircase. He paused on the last step, gripping a heavy blade.

"Can I help you?"

s.h.i.t. "Yeah, I'm looking for Sean Madigan."

"Who're you? Building inspector?" He held up the circular saw he was carrying. "Cause I can a.s.sure you we got all the permits."

"I'm his son."

The man wiped his brow and squinted. "I see it now. You look like him."

"Is he here?"

"Upstairs. Redoing a bathroom. Head on up. Second door on the right."

Nathan waited until the man had disappeared and then began to climb the steps. Since his time in the tunnels, Angel's words had weighed heavily on his mind. Would approaching his father make any difference? Could he be persuaded to forgive Nathan, or did he want to go on pretending like nothing was wrong?

He reached the top of the stairs. Old, busted tiles were strewn outside the bathroom door, resting on paint-stained drop cloths. He heard Sean's voice, a deep tone that had once represented comfort and safety but now only induced nervous tension.

"Sid, you promised me you'd have this toilet out today. I can't get anything done in here if that thing is in the way."

"I'm workin' on it," came the response. "Some douche-bag amateur-probably the previous homeowner lookin' to spare a buck-installed the thing and the system's all screwed up. Give me another half an hour and I'll have it out."

"You'd better."

Sean Madigan stomped out of the bathroom. Seeing his father was always a glimpse into the future. Their physical features were so similar Nathan expected to inherit the same wrinkles and peppered hair one day.

"Dad?"

"Nathan? What are you doing here? Are Aunt Kay and Kelsi all right?"

"Everyone's fine. I uh...I was in the neighborhood. It's been a while so I figured I'd stop by and say h.e.l.lo."

"Oh." Thick wrinkles appeared on his father's forehead. He took off his worn UNLV cap and ran his hand through his graying hair. "Well...how you been?"

"Good. Busy with work."

"Yeah, me too."

Sean shuffled his feet, stirring tile dust up from the drop cloth. "You want some water or something? Got a cooler in the kitchen."

"Nice place." Nathan followed Sean into the large room. The house had an open floor plan with the dining room blending effortlessly into the kitchen. The kitchen featured a large granite bar with plenty of s.p.a.ce.

"Yeah. New owners want the bathroom redone. Cutting into the master-bedroom closet to make room for double sinks and a bigger shower."

"Sounds like you're having some trouble."

"Just the usual bulls.h.i.t." Sean gave him a bottle of water. "We'll get it done."

Nathan took a long drink of his water, looking anywhere but at his father. He had no idea what to say. He never did.

"Heard about that bank job," Sean said. "Crazy s.h.i.t."

"Yeah, it was. You would have loved it. The tunnel's something right out of the prohibition era."

"What'd they do with the distillery?"

"Still in evidence."

"Heard you did a h.e.l.luva job there." His father cracked open a bottle of c.o.ke.

"From who, Kelsi?"

"Maybe." Sean's lips hinted at a smile. "But I'm sure you did. You always were good at everything you did."