Sweet Revenge

play’s taken most of my time and energy. But I’m here now.”
    “It’s just so hard to watch.” Adrianne kept her head back. The tears had been an indulgence she hadn’t realized she’d needed. It felt good, so good to be empty. “I know the signs. She’s drifting away again. She tries. It almost makes it worse to know how much effort she makes. For weeks now she’s been fighting the depression, and losing.”
    “Is she still seeing Dr. Schroeder?”
    “He wants to hospitalize her again.” Impatient, Adrianne pushed herself off the couch. She’d had enough self-pity. “We agreed to wait until after the first of the year because the holidays have always been so important to Mama. But this time …” Trailing off, she looked up at the portrait. “I’m going to drive her up the day after tomorrow.”
    “I’m so sorry, Addy.”
    “She’s been talking about him.” By the way Adrianne’s voice tightened, Celeste understood she was referring to her father. “Twice last week I found her sitting and crying. Over him. The day nurse told me Mama had asked her when he was coming. She’d wanted her hair fixed so she’d look nice for him.”
    Celeste bit back an oath. “She’s so confused.”
    With a laugh Adrianne looked over her shoulder. “Confused? Yes, she’s confused. For years she’s been given drugs to keep her emotions from falling too low or reaching too high. She’s been strapped down and fed through tubes. She’s been through stages when she can’t even dress herself and others when she’s ready to dance on the ceiling. Why? Why is she
confused
, Celeste? Because of him. All because of him. One day, I swear it, he’ll pay for what he did to her.”
    The cold hate in Adrianne’s eyes had Celeste rising. “I know how you feel. Yes, I do,” she said when Adrianne shook her head. “I love her too, and I hate what she’s been through. But concentrating on Abdu, and on some kind of revenge, isn’t good for you. And it won’t help her.”
    “When the end is important enough,” Adrianne repeated, “it more than justifies the means.”
    “Honey, you worry me when you talk that way.” Though she detested taking Abdu’s side, Celeste felt it best for all of them. “I know he’s the cause of many of Phoebe’s problems, but he has given back something over the past few years, making sure there was enough money for her treatment and her living expenses.”
    Silent, Adrianne turned back to the portrait. It wasn’t yet the time to tell Celeste that was all a lie. Her lie. There had never been a cent from Abdu. Sooner or later she’d have to tell her, but for now she wasn’t certain if Celeste could handle the truth about where the money had come from.
    “There’s only one payment he can make that will satisfy me.” Adrianne folded her arms to ward off a sudden chill. “I promised her that one day she’d have it back. When I have The Sun and the Moon, when he knows how much I detest him, I may wipe the slate clean.”

Part II
THE SHADOW
    Himself a shadow, hunting shadows.
    —H OMER
    Always set a thief to catch a thief.
    —T HOMAS F ULLER

Chapter Ten
    New York, October 1988
    Black gloves clung to the knotted rope, going hand over hand, supple wrists taut but flexible. The rope itself was thin, yet strong as steel. It had to be. The streets of Manhattan were fifty stories below, shiny from the early morning rain.
    It was all a matter of timing. The security system was good, very good, but not impenetrable. Nothing was impenetrable. The preliminary work had already been done in a few hours at a drawing board at a computer with a set of calculations. The alarm had been disengaged, really the most elementary part of the job. It had been the cameras scanning the hallways that had determined the method of break-in. Entrance from inside would be inconvenient at best. But there were other ways, always other ways.
    There was only a drizzle now, and the chill that went with it, but the wind had died. If it had still kicked, the figure hanging on to the rope would have been bashed into the brick face of the building. Streetlamps made greasy rainbows in the puddles so very far below; the clouds masked the stars overhead. But the black-clad figure looked neither up nor down. There was a light film of sweat on the brow below a snug stocking cap; it sprang not from fear, but concentration. The figure slipped down another foot, focusing on the rope while strong legs bent and pressed