The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [128]
“I get the picture.”
“Then tell me what happened. Was it something with Duckworth? Is that why you took the money?”
“We’re not thieves,” he told her. She arched an eyebrow. “All I’m saying is, we didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
“What about Shep?” she challenged.
“Shep was my friend! You ask anyone—all the snots at the bank—I’m the one who grabbed coffee with him, and talked football with him, and made fun of the fact that he thought the front section of the paper was just there to keep the sports section from getting wet.”
She studied his face, his hands, even his shoes. Charlie knew she was looking for the tell—trying to figure if it was a lie. Still, if she didn’t believe him, they wouldn’t be talking. “Okay, Charlie, so if you’re innocent, who killed him?” she finally asked.
He expected her to lower the gun, but she didn’t. His hands were still in the air. “Why don’t you try turning your psych profiles on Gallo and DeSanctis?”
She didn’t seem surprised as Charlie said the names. “You have proof of that?” Joey asked.
“I know what I saw.”
“But do you have proof?”
It was exactly like Oliver said—their word against the Service. “We’re working on it,” he shot back.
“Charlie, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
He stopped and paused. He didn’t want to say it, but—Actually, that was a lie. He did. “While you’re at it, you should take a look at Gillian as well.”
Her forehead crinkled. “Gillian who?”
Charlie wasn’t sure if she was bluffing or fishing, but by now, he had nothing to lose. “Duckworth’s daughter. It’s her house now.”
Around the corner, there was a shuffling noise on the other side of the clubhouse. Charlie assumed it was someone’s grandmother. So did Joey, who lowered her gun to make sure it was out of sight. With one eye on Charlie, she stepped backwards, carefully trying to get a peek around the edge of the building. But just as she poked her head around the threshold, there was a familiar click. Joey’s hands went straight toward the clouds. She took a step back from the corner, and Charlie finally saw what had her so distressed: a small black gun was pressed against the side of her head.
“I swear I’ll use it,” Oliver promised as he turned the corner of the clubhouse and stepped into sight. With Gallo’s pistol in his hand, he pulled back on the hammer. “Now drop your gun and get the hell away from my brother.”
60
Oliver, this isn’t the time to be stupid,” Joey warned as Oliver moved forward, gun cocked straight at her.
“I’m serious—I’ll use it,” Oliver said, his finger flickering against the trigger.
Joey watched the way his hands were shaking. Then she studied his eyes. Unwavering. Frozen and dark. He wasn’t joking.
“Joey, what’s happening?” Noreen begged through the earpiece. “Is that them? You want me to call it in?”
“Don’t do it…” Joey warned. Oliver turned, and Noreen stopped talking.
“You’re only going to infect the wound,” Joey added.
“Charlie, step back!” Oliver demanded.
Charlie jumped.
Joey watched the whole scene carefully. She knew which one she had to work on.
“Oliver…” she began. “Let me help you get out of th—”
“Lose the gun!” Oliver interrupted. “Throw it on the roof.”
This time, Joey didn’t budge.
“I said, throw it on the roof!” he insisted, his hand finally steadying.
Watching his brother, Charlie was speechless. So was Joey. Two days ago, she didn’t think Oliver Caruso had it in him. Today, she wasn’t so sure. Joey glanced up at the roof of the clubhouse and prepared to toss her gun. “I’m just warning you, it’ll probably go off.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Oliver replied.
With a soft toss, Joey lobbed her pistol up toward the edge of the roof. It