Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [72]
I don’t have anything recent. If you give me your cell number, I could take one of myself and send it to you.
Does Chris pay your phone bills?
Yeah, he does so it’s probably not a good idea.
Do you have Skype account?
Yeah. Do you want to Skype?
Does Chris have access to your computer?
Not really; if it makes you nervous, we’ll pass on Skype.
A long pause.
What’s your account name, Gabe?
He gave it to her. Five minutes later, his computer rang. He pressed Answer with Video and for the first time in almost a year, he saw his mother’s face. It made him suddenly furious, but he tried to keep his hot anger in check.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he told her.
“Hi.” Her voice was quivering. Tears were in her eyes.
“I have to keep it down,” Gabe said. “It’s two in the morning. Tell me about my sister.”
“Do you want to see her?” Terry asked him.
“Of course.” She got up and he could hear her talking offscreen to someone. A moment later, she sat back down. He continued. “You look well.” She really did. Young and beautiful with a cascade of auburn hair and gold eyes. Of course, she was always young and beautiful with a cascade of auburn hair and gold eyes. He was just seeing her from a fresh perspective. His mother was simply a knockout. All his buddies used to salivate whenever she was around, but they wouldn’t dare say anything inappropriate. She was Chris’s wife. “Are you all right?”
Terry nodded, taking a swipe at her eyes.
“Is he good to you?” Gabe asked. “Does he treat you right?”
Again, Terry nodded.
“I’m glad, Mom. You deserve it.” Now her tears were flowing freely. So who was the parent and who was the child? “Please don’t cry. I’m doing okay. I’ve got a first-rate piano teacher and an agent. I’m going to play some summer chamber music festivals. It’s really exciting.”
“That’s wonderful.” Her voice was still unsteady.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” A moment later, a baby filled the screen. She had a round face with a thick mop of black hair. She was drooling. Decker had been right. No way she could have passed this one off as Chris’s. Gabe felt his lips turn upward into a big smile. “Hi there, Juleen. I’m your big brother, Gabe.”
Juleen stared at the screen, then let go with a startling wail.
He did have a way with the ladies. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry.”
“She’s cranky because she’s teething.” Terry shifted her until she was over her shoulder. She patted her back. “Most of the time, she’s really easygoing.”
“She’s darling,” Gabe said. “Enjoy her, Mom. Before you know it, she’ll be giving you grief just like your other child.”
“You never gave me grief.” Her face crumbled. “I miss you so much, Gabriel.”
“Miss you, too.” Not.
“You look so . . . old.” The tears were back. “I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he told her. “You did me a huge favor.” Said with too much enthusiasm.
Terry said, “There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about you.”
He rarely thought of her anymore. “It’s fine, Mom. I’m happy.” He grinned. “See?” He faked a yawn. “I have to get up early tomorrow . . . or rather today.” It was true. He was meeting Yasmine in the morning. “I need to sleep.”
Terry nodded, trying to smile away the defeat on her face. She was still patting Juleen’s back. “It’s wonderful to see you, Gabriel. I love you very, very much.”
“Same, Mom. Have a good night . . . or good day.” He waved and then quickly disconnected the line. He closed down his computer and slipped under the covers. In silence, his thoughts drifted from his mother to Yasmine. Whenever he wasn’t doing music, he compulsively thought about her. Usually that was enough to quell his angst. But tonight his mother’s sadness kept interfering with his peace of mind.
Two-fifteen . . . two-thirty . . . two-forty-five.
He gave up, stood up, and slipped on a T-shirt and jeans and loafers, heading out to his studio. He was a mess: anxious, lonely, depressed, furious at his abandonment, drowning in love, as well as obsessive/compulsive