Across the room, Eli made a noise that was something between a cough and a cry. He looked between all of them, his face turning an almost comic shade of red. Then he picked up a Tiffany vase that must have cost a fortune and hurled it across the room where it shattered on the tile in front of the fireplace.
"Eli!"
But he didn't answer. He didn't do anything except march out of the room, leaving his wife and his children behind.
Lisa started to rise, but Jane tugged her down. "No. You know Daddy. Give him a minute."
Lisa nodded. They all knew Eli. His temper was usually a slow burn, but sometimes it burst out with dragon-like fury. He'd work through it and come back and comfort his wife. Until then, Dallas and Jane would take care of Lisa.
"Are you sure? Maybe there's been a mistake."
Jane caught Dallas's eye, and he saw the unspoken question: how much could they tell her?
"Of course there hasn't been a mistake." Eli's deep voice resonated through the room, and Dallas turned to see his father standing in the doorway. Tall and proud and pissed as hell. "Of course he did it. We should have seen it. We should have known." He crossed the room and sat next to Lisa, then pulled her into his arms, a limp, weary woman compared to his strong, angry resiliency.
"He did it to punish us," Eli continued. "He did it to hurt you. To hurt me. It was never about the children."
"No." She tilted her head up. "No, he would never do that to Jane. Or to Dallas," she added, but from the way she blinked, Dallas could see that she wasn't quite sure. That part of her believed it, and understood. "No," she repeated. "I was his wife. I would know if he was capable of that."
"He's a psychopath," Eli said, stroking her hair. "He knew--knows--how to hide."
"It's worse," Jane said. "We--we think Adele is involved, too. We--we wanted you to know in case she contacts you. Right now she's on the run--we know she's gone to London. But who knows how long she'll stay there, and she may reach out to you. But don't see her, Mom. If she wants to have lunch, come up with an excuse. But whatever you do, don't see her."
For a moment, even Eli was speechless. Dallas got that--it was a hell of a reality to absorb in just moments.
Then Lisa shook her head violently, as if that was the only way to silence the noise inside. Then she stood. "I--I have to go. I need to walk."
"Darling, no." Eli held her hand between his, and Dallas saw so much love and concern in his eyes that for that one moment in time, he forgave his father every wrong. "Stay here. Lie down. I'll make you a drink."
But she pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No, I'm okay, truly. Well, no, I'm not. But I need air. I just want fresh air. I'll only go across the street. But I'm feeling trapped, Eli. I need--"
"I'll walk with you, Mom," Dallas said.
"No." Eli's voice was firm. "Please," he said less forcefully. "Jane can go with her mother. I'd like to speak to you."
Dallas glanced toward Jane, who hooked her arm through Lisa's. "Come on, Mom. Why don't we walk to the park?"
Dallas knew they were tempting the paparazzi, but he could tell Lisa needed to get out, and Jane gave him a nod, letting him know she was up for it. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about Adele or her cohort. They were an entire ocean away.
Dallas and Eli watched them go, and as they disappeared behind the elevator's doors, Dallas felt some of the weight of the day leave him, too. Yes, he was numb. But at the same time it felt good to tell them at least part of the truth. To give them some closure even if the circumstances were horrible.
There was more to tell, of course. They were still holding tight to the secret about Deliverance. About Bill breathing down his neck. But that was for later. Maybe--if they got lucky with Bill and his band of merry investigators--that discussion could even be tabled indefinitely.
Right now, though, neither Bill nor Deliverance mattered. All Dallas wanted was to hear what his dad had to say. He knew better than to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help the tiny voice that suggested that the only reason his dad would want to see him alone would be to discuss Dallas's proposal about rescinding the adoption.
"This is going to be hard on your mother," Eli said as they moved from the foyer back to the den and sat down.
"Very," Dallas said. "She was married to him for years. She never knew how far he would go."
He understood that. It wasn't the same as his situation with Adele, of course. But close enough that he could empathize with his mother. That he would understand how blind and vulnerable and foolish she was feeling.
"We weren't responsible, your mother and I."
Dallas cocked his head. "I'm sorry?"
"It was good we terminated his rights," Eli continued. "Maybe that set him off--maybe that flipped the switch and made him go after you--but we couldn't have known it would end up that way."
Dallas blinked, not sure if he should feel angry that his father was trying to exonerate himself, or sad that Eli felt so much guilt that he was trying to now dig his way clear. In the end, he just felt sad, and a little exhausted.