Page 88 of Ten Beach Road

“It’s not funny, Malcolm. I’ve seen some of the lives you’ve ruined up close and personal. How did this happen?”

He took the camera off and set it on the mattress, then hugged his knees to his chest like he used to when he was a child. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was all legitimate at first. The investments went well and the marketing went even better. I had people who wouldn’t have let me in the front door of their mansions when we were growing up fighting to invest with me. You know, the harder you make it, the more they want in?

“It was everything I ever dreamed of. I had . . . so much.”

She sensed him wanting to stand and pace, but his eyes skimmed over the window and the closed bedroom door. They were both aware of the others sleeping in the house and the fact that he was wanted by the law.

Was Giraldi out there watching or listening? Did he know that Malcolm had been one of the photographers, waiting patiently in front of their noses to contact her? Was the agent really trying to gain her cooperation? Or had he simply been playing her, waiting for Malcolm to make this kind of brazen move?

“But why did you have to steal? Why not just make everybody a ton of money the good old-fashioned way?”

He sighed. “Because it’s not that easy.” Giving in to his restlessness, he stood, but he didn’t pace. “The market sucked and then it sucked even more. And if you’re not delivering better returns than everybody else, then you’re nowhere. I couldn’t afford to lose those clients, so I started paying off the old investors out of the new investors’ capital. And then all the juggling began.”

“Oh, Malcolm.”

“If the economy hadn’t tanked so spectacularly and sent everybody running for their money, I would never have been found out.”

Nicole sighed. “But it was still a Ponzi scheme. You were stealing money that didn’t belong to you.” She looked into his eyes and the only remorse she saw seemed feigned for her benefit, though she suspected he was genuinely remorseful about being found out. “There’s always someone else to blame, isn’t there?”

Her criticism didn’t seem to faze him in the least. “I can make things right for you, Nik, if you’ll help me access the money. I need someone the feds don’t know to get the money out of my offshore accounts.” He reached a hand down to her and pulled her to her feet. “Hardly anyone knows we’re related; we have different last names. You could waltz in and out without anyone looking twice.”

Except, of course, Agent Joe Giraldi and his merry band. And anyone else who chose to dig deep enough.

“Malcolm, I think you should turn yourself and the money in. So many people have been hurt, wiped out. You need to do the right thing.”

His look of shock was almost comical. His laughter, though quiet, was derisive. “Do the right thing? That’s a great movie title, Nik. As a course of action, not so much.”

“Seriously, Malcolm. You have to . . .”

“No, I really don’t. And if you won’t help me, I’ll find someone else who’ll want a cut bad enough to take the chance. But there’s nobody I trust as much as you.”

She’d once felt that way about him, too. Clearly that trust had been misplaced. “You’ll never get away with this. Really, you need to . . .”

“You need to stop trying to mother me, Nikki, and help me get that damned money,” Malcolm said. “I’m going to be moving around for a while, waiting for the heat to die down a little more. But here’s where you’ll be able to find me after that.” He handed her a folded piece of paper. “You’ve got a two-day window to meet me there so that I can explain what needs to be done.”

She opened the piece of paper and saw two lines of type with the name of the campground near Tallahassee where they’d spent that long-ago Thanksgiving and the date August 25, the day their mother had died. She had no idea whether he’d left this information unspoken because he knew about Giraldi or was simply being cautious.

When she looked up to tell him she could try to get him a deal if he’d just turn himself in, he was gone.

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