"You want me to tell you that whatever you have planned, it's perfectly all right, and she'll have no reason to be angry."
Gabriel gripped the phone tighter, his words brittle now. "I was calling to ask your opinion, because you have, in the past, suggested that, before I do something imprudent where Olivia is concerned."
"You're right. I'm sorry. I--"
"No, I'm sorry. This was a mistake. The decision is, of course, my own, as are the consequences, and I did not intend to shift blame. I apologize for bothering you."
He hung up. Rose called back. He let voice mail answer. She called again. Then she texted. He shut off his phone, pulled on his jacket, and headed out.
--
Gabriel sat at the table, his hands folded on the top, gaze fixed on the door. It opened, and a guard prodded a woman in.
News reports claimed Olivia looked like her mother, but Gabriel saw a resemblance only in gestures and expressions. Olivia's jaw would set, and he'd glimpse Pamela. Or her eyes would ignite with a spark of ruthlessness, and there, too, lay her mother. Flares only, rising and falling away. It was the same with her father. Those moments when she'd be carefree and childlike, that was Todd. Or when she'd dig in her heels, her expression warning him there was no sense pushing. Mostly, though, he saw only Olivia, her own person, untethered to either parent.
When Pamela spotted her visitor, she stopped short. He waited, his hands still folded, gaze on her, no challenge in it. Yet there was challenge there. He'd told the desk that Pamela had rehired him, and now all she had to do was deny the ruse and this meeting would be at an end.
She looked at him. Then she nodded for the guard to leave.
"Misrepresenting yourself, Gabriel?" she said as she sat. "I shouldn't be surprised. I am surprised it took you so long to come." She leaned back in her seat. "Go ahead. Tell me exactly how you feel about me."
Pamela let the silence stretch until she shifted, unable to hold it. "Let me guess--it took so long because you were trying to figure out a way to make me pay, legally. To prove that I tried to have you framed for murder. Failing that, you've come to tell me that I'll pay, one way or the other."
He stayed exactly as he was, hands folded, gaze resting on her.
"Stop that," she snapped.
"I'm waiting for you to finish speculating on the nature of this visit. You seem to be enjoying it, so I will indulge you, though I must warn that, as you know, our time is limited."
"What do you want, Gabriel?"
"The question is wh
at you want."
"What do I want?"
"Me."
A harsh laugh. "Your head on a pike, I suppose? No, sorry to disappoint. I want you out of my daughter's life, but it appears I can only wait until she comes to her senses and sees you for the manipulative son of a bitch you are."
"You want freedom," he said. "What do you need for that, Pamela?"
Her jaw set in a way he knew well.
"What do you need, Pamela?" he repeated.
Her jaw clenched so hard he heard her teeth grind. She barely pried her mouth open enough to spit, "Bastard. You enjoy this, don't you?"
"It's not pleasure. It's control."
"You take pleasure in control."
"No, I take comfort in it. It makes life easier. You need me. My counsel. My services. You need me to represent you--along with Todd--in your appeal. It's your only chance of seeing the outside of this prison."
"If your appeal frees Todd, it will free me."
Gabriel eased back, hands falling to his lap. "Not necessarily. That's what Todd wants, but if you think it's what your daughter wants, you are sadly mistaken. If you cannot be tried for James Morgan's death, she'll happily see you stay in here. What she wants is Todd's freedom. What I want to give her is Todd's freedom." He straightened, hands on the table again. "It's not going as well as I'd hoped."