“Stop! Shit!” Gerald ordered.
“You tell me, right here and now, what the fuck happened to Chase,” Rand ordered. “You know, damn it, and you covered it up for twenty damned years.”
His father’s face was turning white, pain etched in the lines near his mouth.
“And you kept insinuating I knew what happened,” Rand charged. “When all along it was you!”
His father looked up at him and closed his eyes for what seemed an eternity, inwardly wrestling with his need for secrecy and the fact that his son was about to literally wring the truth from him.
“What the fuck happened?” Rand demanded.
Nothing.
“Twenty years is a damn long time to carry that secret. A burden. Give it up, Dad. Tell me, or I swear, I’ll run you into the station, you know, the one that still has your picture on the wall?”
Something inside of Gerald Watkins broke.
Rand could feel it, the tension leaving Gerald’s taut body, his pale face going slack.
Voices could be heard from inside the building, deep, raucous laughter exploded. “Fine,” his father said, breathing hard. “But not here.” His gaze found Rand’s, eyes pleading. “This is . . . where I hang out. My friends are here.”
“Then right now. At the house. You ride with me.”
“My car is here.”
“I’ll bring you back.”
His father gave a short nod, and Rand let go, Gerald standing and rubbing his arm. “You about popped my arm out of its socket.”
“I think you’ll be okay. Work it out.”
His father glanced up sharply, remembering the words he’d always told his son when Rand had complained of an injury.
“Let’s go. My Jeep’s over here.” Rand started walking to the parking lot.
“I’ll drive myself,” his father insisted. “What do you think I’m going to do? Run away? Fuck that.” He scrabbled into his pocket for his crumpled pack of Marlboros.
“I’ll follow you.”
Rand warned, “Don’t fuck with me.”
“I said I’ll follow you!” Gerald said in another burst of anger.
Rand decided to trust him. For now. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he jogged through the rain to his Cherokee and slid inside. As he started his Jeep, he knew he was stepping through a door that could never be closed again.
Well, so be it.
He shoved the gearshift into drive. As he pulled out of the parking space, Rand caught sight of his father, his features distorted through the rain-spackled windshield.
He wondered if he’d ever really known the man who had sired him.
No.
Not at all.
But he was about to find out.
Chapter 47