Let Walter hang him out to dry.
He almost wanted it to happen. So that he could finally fight back.
And somehow, someday, he’d win, too.
Because he was the man’s son.
He’d been raised to stand up to adversity. To keep pushing forward until he tasted victory.
Gabi moved into his peripheral vision. A step in front of him.
And he was reminded that in the fight for his freedom, proving his innocence was not the biggest battle he had ahead of him.
* * *
THE FRONT DOORS of the impressive Connelly building opened and Walter Connelly, dressed in a suit and tie, came out alone. His attorney wasn’t with him.
The crowd pressed forward. A couple of shouts rang out, questions, Gabrielle thought, but she couldn’t make them out. Gabrielle stood next to Liam, her shoulder pressing up to his, with Elliott behind her. She tried to stay calm.
From her distance, she couldn’t read the expression on the evil man’s face. And feared that the day’s debacle was a direct result of her visit to him the previous day. No one crossed Walter Connelly and got away with it. He was all-powerful. Or wanted the world to believe that, apparently.
He was actually going to throw his son to the wolves.
Before the grand jury had reached a decision.
He was going to show her and Liam and the world that he was right.
Walter moved straight for the podium. Surveyed his crowd.
“He’s called a press conference to express his sorrow as he confesses that he feels he has no choice but to hand me over to the wolves,” Liam said. “He’s right now feeling supreme satisfaction that one phone call from him would garner this much attention.”
Gabrielle didn’t put it past the man.
And didn’t trust herself to know any better.
And then she saw Tamara. And Missy. Standing in the shadows on the other side of the step, behind a pillar. Not far from Walter.
Tamara wiped her eyes as though she was crying. Liam didn’t appear to have seen her. Gabrielle didn’t have the heart to point them out to him.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I come to you this morning a different man than you know me to be. A weak man. And, if you will, a frightened man. I come to you, not for myself, but because of myself. I come to you with one purpose. To hand you a story that every single one of you will run out and distribute. You have power, ladies and gentlemen. The power of the press. Today, more than ever before in history, this great country is influenced by your words. Brought together by your words. Called to action by your words.”
Gabrielle didn’t want to be impressed by the man’s eloquence. It was clear by the stoic look on Liam’s face that he wasn’t.
He was staring blankly—his face pointed toward a place just beyond his father’s left shoulder. She’d guess he was seeing none of the crowd. Of the cars or the vans or the trucks. Liam was doing what Liam did.
Going off to find the flowers in the mud.
Tears filled Gabrielle’s eyes as she stood there beside him, watching him. Wondering at the life he’d led, a life that had taught him so well how to encase himself against the pain.
Wondering, too, if he’d ever know how much she loved him.
* * *
“I HAVE COME to you today because I don’t have enough proof of what I’m about to tell you to be assured that justice will be done, and I want the truth known.”
Liam heard the words and almost snorted. Had his father ever known the meaning of the word truth?
“I won’t waste any more of your time,” Walter said. “I have made some grave mistakes in my life. A couple of them are ones that I expect will interest you. Shortly after my son left for college, I realized I’d not been nearly as successful in my personal life as I had been professionally. Not comfortable with being home, I looked for something to fill my time. Something I’d once enjoyed. Something that had a way of taking my mind off everything else. I played cards.”