Family Man

other, doom and disaster mirrored in their witchy eyes.
    “Why do I have the feeling I'm about to diagnose my first case of mass hysteria?” Liz asked.

    Zeke stood on the other side of the living room window and stared at Atwood through the glass. His gaze never wavered.
    “Does he always carry that stupid dish around in his mouth?” Atwood asked irritably.
    “Zeke never goes anywhere without his dish.” Luke sprawled on the sofa and watched his captor.
    Atwood had said he wanted to sit down, but he had been prowling the room, gun in hand, for the past thirty minutes. He was restless and clearly nervous. When Zeke had shown up on the other side of the window Atwood had nearly jumped out of his skin. He might have been at ease plotting blackmail or a clever financial trap in which to catch his victims, but schemes requiring guns were apparently new to him.
    Atwood glanced at the clock. “Another hour and a half and it will all be over. How long do you think Justine will wait at the church hoping you'll show?”
    “You really hate her, don't you?”
    “I hate your whole frigging family, Gilchrist.”
    “Yeah, that figures. I know about your father.”
    Atwood paused in his pacing and swung around. The gun trembled in his hand. “What do you know about my father?”
    “I looked up the records of the deal in which he lost his restaurant. I know he shot himself. You blame my family for his death, don't you?”
    “Damn right.” Atwood's eyes were filled with a corrosive bitterness. “Justine killed him when she closed down his restaurant. She might as well have pulled the trigger herself. And you know the worst of it?”
    “Yes. I know the worst of it. She never even knew what had happened or who had suffered because of that deal,” Luke said softly.
    “He tried to get an appointment with her. Tried to talk to her. He couldn't get past her damn secretary.” Atwood started pacing again. “She wouldn't even see him.”
    “I know.”
    “I was only twenty. I couldn't do anything at the time, but I swore I'd pay you Gilchrists back one day if it took me the rest of my life.”
    “You know something, Atwood? You're not going to believe this, but I understand.”
    “Bullshit. You Gilchrists don't give a damn about anything except what you want. You don't care who gets in the way or who gets hurt.”
    “You're not any different, are you?”
    Atwood's face contorted with fury. “I'm nothing like you. Do you hear me?”
    “What about Katy? You used her a year ago to get at Eden, and today you're setting her up so that she'll get hurt right along with the others.”
    “Look, I'm sorry about Katy, okay? I had to use her last year. And it's a shame she's going to have to go through what's happening today. But that's the way it goes. I had no choice.”
    The rationale sounded all too familiar, Luke reflected. “Maybe that's what Justine would have said fifteen years ago if your father had asked her not to close down his restaurant. No choice. Just good business. You know how it is. These things happen.”
    “Stop it,” Atwood snarled. He brought the nose of the gun up with a threatening motion. “You're all going to pay. One way or another, you're going to pay.”
    “Nothing will bring back your father.”
    “I know that, damn you. But at least I'll know that he was avenged. The only thing Gilchrists care about is money, so that's how I'm going to hurt you. Financially. It's sort of a symbolic thing, you know?”
    “I see.”
    Zeke whined and edged forward.
    “Why is that dog watching us like that?” Atwood demanded.
    “Who knows?” Luke answered softly.
    At that instant Zeke tried to put his nose right up against the glass. His dish banged on the window.
    The sound was like a gunshot in the small room. Atwood, already shivering with nerves and rage, whirled toward the window.
    Luke came up off the sofa in a single motion. Atwood jerked back toward him, but it was too late. Luke kicked the gun out of his hand. It flew across the room, hit the wall, and skittered on the hardwood floor.
    With an anguished yell of frustration and fury Atwood threw himself at Luke.
    Luke sidestepped the charge and brought his hand down in a short, slashing chop that sent Atwood to the floor.
    It was all over in an instant. Atwood groaned, tried to rise, and collapsed in a defeated heap.
    Luke stood over him for a moment. Then he went across the room to pick up the gun. He took out the clip and saw that it was empty.