Chapter 32 - THE BROTHERS WHO SHARED NO CHILDHOOD
Thomas agreed to meet Grant only after the grand-jury testimony was complete.
The meeting took place at a family counseling center.
Not Lily’s center.
Thomas refused to enter a room connected to her visits.
A therapist remained present. So did separate attorneys in the hallway.
Grant arrived first.
Thomas entered carrying the red toy ambulance in an evidence-approved plastic container.
He placed it on the table between them.
Neither man reached for it.
Grant spoke first.
“I remember the watch.”
Thomas looked at him.
“I wondered whether you would.”
“I remember Dad telling me not to call you my brother.”
“Did you want to?”
“I didn’t understand what it meant.”
“You understood enough to take the ambulance.”
“I was nine.”
Thomas’s expression hardened.
“I know. That is why I don’t blame the child.”
The distinction left Grant with the adult.
Grant described the day William told him Thomas had died. He remembered crying in the back seat while Beatrice told him grief was private and should not embarrass his father.
Thomas listened without comforting him.
“My mother attended your graduation,” Thomas said.
Grant looked up.
“She stood across the street. She wanted to see whether William treated you better.”
“I didn’t know.”
“She decided he did.”
Grant’s eyes moved toward the toy.
“What did you want when you wrote to me?”
“William had died. I thought you might release the medical files.”
“I hadn’t taken control yet.”
“You sat on the board.”
“My mother controlled everything.”
“You had a vote.”
Grant did not argue.
“I sent the letter back.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid you wanted the company.”
“I wanted the names of eleven children.”
“What happened to them?”
“Three died before their families learned the devices were defective.”
Grant lowered his head.
The therapist waited.
Thomas leaned back.
“I didn’t come here to punish you with numbers. I came because Kessler removed records after William died, and you authorized the truck.”
“I told investigators.”
“You told them where it went. What else was inside?”
Grant closed his eyes, searching memory.
“Steel carts. Sealed bins. My father’s personal file cabinet.”
“Which cabinet?”
“Not Seventeen. A tall gray one from his office.”
Thomas looked at the therapist.
Then back at Grant.
“Did Kessler keep it?”
“He said it was going to document destruction.”
“Did you see it destroyed?”
“No.”
Grant remembered another detail.
Kessler’s truck did not travel directly to the Laurel warehouse. A toll statement showed it crossing into West Virginia the following morning.
The charge had been reimbursed through a Mercer travel account.
Thomas knew the destination.
William owned a hunting property outside Martinsburg.
After his death, Beatrice sold the land to a shell company connected to Paul Kessler.
The current Northstar investigation had focused on Maryland and Virginia.
No one had searched the West Virginia property.
At the end of the meeting, Grant asked one question.
“Did Dad ever tell you he was sorry?”
“No.”
“Did you want him to?”
Thomas considered it.
“I wanted him to stop.”
He picked up the toy ambulance.
Grant watched him move toward the door.
“Thomas.”
Thomas stopped but did not turn.
“I am sorry.”
“I heard you.”
It was not acceptance.
May you like
It was not rejection.
It was the first answer Grant had received from his brother in more than twenty years.
