She didn’t hear or feel or say a thing. Her own legs gave way and she was on the ground, damp grass bleeding through her jeans, freezing her, numbing her.
“No,” Garrett said. “It’s not true. It’s a trick. They’re con men,” he yelled, as if that could explain everything, make it all make perfect sense.
“That man’s dead,” a bystander said flatly, but Garrett just pushed him aside and stared for himself through one of the cameras trained on the falls below.
“He’s…He can’t be…” Garrett stumbled away from the sight, pale as ghost, but Kat kept crawling toward the ledge.
“I’ll go get him,” she said. “I’ll get him and then we can bring him to the hospital.…” She stumbled to her feet. “I have to get him.”
But she didn’t move—couldn’t move because Hale’s arms were around her so tightly her feet no longer touched the ground.
“Let me go, Hale. I have to go get him and help him up.”
“No, Kat. No.”
“Let me go!”
“No.” Fury faded, and Kat knew Hale wasn’t going to let her near the edge.
“I have to get him, Hale.”
“No,” he said, and held her tighter. “I have you.”
“Mr. Garrett,” the goon said. “We have to get you out of here.”
“He fell,” Garrett said.
“Your fingerprints are all over that case, sir, and now that case is lying by his body and covered with his blood. You have to leave. Now.”
They didn’t seem to care about the crying girl or the crumpled body. They just drove away, wheels spinning, the SUV disappearing into the mist.
Chapter 44
There wasn’t really a manhunt, not in the traditional sense. No one alerted Interpol. There were no roadblocks or Wanted posters. No one in a position of authority was going to care too much about the death of the king of the thieves.
Sure, the tabloids had all picked up on the news that Reginald Hale had gone over Niagara Falls, and by morning the rumors would be rampant; but for that night, at least, the streets were dark and the stove was cold. Kat couldn’t look at it. But she couldn’t look away either.
“Kat,” Hale told her, “you should get some sleep.”
“No.” She pushed his hand away.
“Come on. You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.”
But before Kat could protest, there was a knock on the door.
“That’s probably the boys,” Hale said, but he was wrong.
Kat knew as much as soon as she heard Natalie’s voice say, “Hey, Scoot.”
“Go away.” He tried to slam the door in her face, but Kat caught the edge, held it there, and glared at the girl on the stoop.
“What do you want?” Kat didn’t want to look the girl in the eyes, but she had to.
“I heard about what happened and… Are you okay, Kat?” Natalie asked.
“What do you want?” Kat said again.
“I’m so sorry, Kat. And Hale, I never thought my dad would forge a DNR. You’ve got to believe me.”
She reached for Hale’s hand, but he pulled it out of her grasp.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said, and for a moment, Kat thought he might hit her. “But you have to leave.”
“No, Hale. Listen. I know…I know I did a terrible thing, but I never dreamed my father would hurt Hazel.”
“Really?” Hale was shouting, and Kat doubted he even knew it. “What did you think he would do?”
“I don’t know.” Natalie bit her lip. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I just… He’s not a strong man. He’s angry and bitter and… You don’t know what it’s like—being near you. All of you. The Hales. You’re larger than life, you know that, right? With your houses and your jets. You have everything.”
Hale stood trembling, and Kat thought about the boy in the Superman pajamas. He’d had nothing.
But Natalie talked on. “Then my dad told me about the prototype.” She shrugged as if she wasn’t sure who or what to believe anymore. “He was so desperate to get out from under your family’s shadow, so I said that if he felt the Hales owed him so much, he should do something about it.”
“But Hazel fired him,” Kat said. She thought about the carbon copy of the letter that she’d found in Hazel’s desk.
“Yeah.” Natalie nodded. She looked impressed that Kat knew. “He was just going to take the prototype and sell it and…no one was supposed to get hurt. No one was ever supposed to die.”
“That’s the thing about being a criminal,” Kat told her. “Nothing ever goes according to plan.”
“What do you want, Natalie?” Hale was deflating. It was like the fight was leaving his body, and all that was left was an empty, hollow shell.
“I’m sorry. And I just want to make it right.”
“You think you can say you’re sorry?” Hale yelled, and Kat knew that it must have felt good. Like crying. He must have wanted to purge all the excess emotion from his body, because he yelled louder. “You think that makes it okay?”
Natalie shook her head. Tears streamed down her face. “No. No. Of course not. I just—”
“What?” Hale yelled. “Tell me why I shouldn’t spend the rest of my life trying to destroy you.”
“The prototype,” Natalie blurted.
Hale was rushing down the aisle as the train began to move, but Kat just stood at the door, wondering what kind of person could watch somebody die and then run for the hills, his only concern how much money he might have for the journey.
“Sorry, Scooter, it’s gone.” He placed his laptop in his bag and his bag on the seat beside him. “You tried. But it’s done.”
“You stole it,” Hale said.
“I took what I was owed!” the man shouted, and still Kat stood, searching his eyes for any sign of remorse, but all she saw was a cold and empty greed that no amount of money would ever satisfy.
“You think that company is your legacy?” Garrett challenged. “Your birthright? It’s a tomb.”