The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [167]
“Really? And you actually believe that?” he shoots back. “You haven’t even stopped to think about this, have you, Oliver? The second you step back in that bank, you’re fired. Lapidus’ll bury you faster than you can say ‘professional embarrassment.’ And when you go to the police—even if you can avoid going to jail—even if you give back the money—you think they’re throwing you a victory parade? It’s still your signature on the original wire request. From that alone, your life is over. So now you’ve got no job, no money, and no one who’ll ever trust you again. Worst of all, by the time the lawsuits are done and all your savings are devoured, your mother’s not gonna be able to afford a spool of thread, much less the rest of her credit card and hospital bills. Who’s gonna pay those now, Oliver? And what about Charlie? How long you think he can survive without your help?”
As he says the words, I know he’s right. But that doesn’t mean I’m getting in bed with a viper and his—
“Nobody move!” a female voice shouts behind us.
Spinning around, we trace the sound to the warehouse door. There’s a woman with a gun. The investigator from the condo… the redhead… Joey… She points the gun straight at us—first at me, then at Shep.
Flushed with relief, I take a step toward her, away from Shep.
“I said, don’t move!” she shouts as I raise my hands in the air.
“It’s about time,” Shep says, sounding relieved. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”
“Excuse me?” Joey asks.
I expect to see some recognition on her face. Shep’s alive—she’s smart enough to fill in the rest. But instead, she seems confused. “Who the hell are you?” she asks.
My arms go numb as they stretch toward the ceiling. I don’t believe it. She has no idea who he is.
“Me?” Shep asks with a crooked grin. He scratches at his forearms and lets out a deep, relaxed laugh. “I’m an investigator—just like you.”
“He’s lying,” I blurt. “It’s Shep!”
“Don’t let him fool you, Ms. Lemont…”
“How do you know my name?” Joey asks.
“I told you—I’ve been investigating this from the start. Call Henry Lapidus—he’ll explain everything.” As he says Lapidus’s name, there’s a new calmness in his voice. He reaches into his jacket…
“Don’t even think it!” Joey says.
“It’s not a gun, Ms. Lemont.” From his chest pocket, he pulls out a black leather wallet. “Here’s my ID,” he says, tossing it at Joey’s feet. She reaches down to pick it up, but never lets us out of her sight.
“I swear to you, Joey—his name is Shep Graves…”
“Ms. Lemont, don’t listen to him…”
“… he faked his death so they’d put the blame on us!”
She glances down at the ID, then slaps it shut.
“So you’re working with Lapidus?” Joey asks skeptically.
Shep nods.
“And he’ll back up your story?”
“Absolutely,” he croons.
I’m not sure if Shep’s bluffing, or if he’s got a whole new card trick up his sleeve. Either way, Joey’s come too far to leave without the truth.
“Noreen, are you there?” she says, speaking into the microphone that’s clipped to her shirt. Nodding to herself, she adds, “Get me Henry Lapidus.”
84
Charlie…? Charlie, where are you?” Gillian whispered as she cut through the utility closet and stepped into the perpendicular hallway that connected to it. Kicking aside the Goofy head, she surveyed the hall and shoved her way past the knocked-over folding table. On her far left was the door that led outside. Not a chance, she thought. DeSanctis wouldn’t leave without telling them. A sharp scratching sound confirmed the rest. She spun around and followed the noise. Toward the back—beyond the laundry cart and the folding screen. She knew that one. Like someone running. Or hiding.
Scrambling up the hall, she kept an eye out for DeSanctis. He was still pissed about the blender to the head—but not enough to ruin it all, she decided as she slid past the folding screen. Still, better to stay quiet and figure out the lay of the—
Gillian stopped right there. From the floor to the tops of the costume racks, Minnie, Donald, Pluto, and dozens of other character heads stared back at her, each one