The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 13

"How did I find out?" George turned away from the window, sat back down in his chair, and splayed his hands on his desk. "Why are you asking these questions all of a sudden?"

Chris met his eyes briefly, trying to decide how much he should say, and then said, "George, just tell me."

"I thought he'd been discreet. He was good at covering his tracks. But I suppose he had to slip up eventually."

"You kept evidence from me---from the police. Don't you realize that this could have everything to do with their---" He broke off, still unable to say the word without a struggle. "With their murders? I had a right to know about this, damn it."

"Chris, you had enough to deal with, and I made the decision to spare you further grief. I was only trying to help."

He shook his head. He was beginning to feel a rising anger born of betrayal. "I trusted you, George. You're the only person in my life I thought I could trust."

"Now listen here," George scolded him. "I've known you since you were in diapers. If there is anyone in the world you can trust, if there is anyone in the world who has your best interests at heart, I am that person. I did everything I could to shelter you from these ugly things because, more than anything, you needed time to heal."

"But if I'd known---"

"What difference would it have made? Michael and Brianna would still be gone, and you would have been even more brutalized at a time when you were barely holding on. I'm only sorry you found out at all."

"How could I have been so blind? How could he have hidden this from me so well? How could you?"

George joined Chris on the sofa and pulled him into a tender hug.

"Sometimes love blinds us to the faults of those we care about, little dove. Sometimes we don't see a thing that's right in front of us because we don't want to see."

Chris pulled out of George's arms and stared at the wall. He was numb. When he recovered his voice, he made an admission he'd only ever made to himself. "But I didn't love him, George, at least not in the way you think I did."

George seemed confused. "You shared your lives for five years," he protested. "You were raising Brianna together."

"I was raising Brianna. You know as well as I do that Michael didn't want anything to do with her."

"He loved that child dearly."

"He tolerated her," Chris corrected. "You know, I can't remember a time he ever expressed any real interest in her. I don't think he ever wanted to be a parent."

George was silent for a moment. "I suppose it would seem that way," he said cautiously. "Michael was ambitious. He was driven by his career, but he and I spoke often of how he regretted not being more... available to look after her."

Chris couldn't imagine Michael saying such things, but it was pointless to argue. Instead, he turned back to the topic at hand. He looked directly into George's eyes. "It's time to stop dodging the question, George. Tell me how you found out about his drug habit."

"Do you really want to know?" Hesitation was evident in the man's posture, and his blue eyes were liquid pools of distress.

"I... well, the secret's out now, isn't it?" Chris heard conviction in his voice that surprised him. Where was this strength coming from?

George stood up and walked over to his desk. He sat on the polished mahogany surface, and his eyes clouded with memory. Before he spoke again, he plucked a fountain pen from a marble base and rolled the pen between his fingers.

"This won't be easy for you to hear," he warned.

"What's easy? If I survived the past year, I think I can manage this."

George was briefly contemplative. Then, placing the pen back in its base, he spoke. "All right, then, here it is. After the Brunner Investment case concluded, Michael began spending a significant amount of time away from work. His other clients suffered from his absences. We got complaints about missed appointments, shoddy documentation. When an old acquaintance of mine showed up and told me Michael was illicitly involved with Johan Brunner, I had him followed. I can't afford to have a partner not pulling his weight. It turned out he was spending time with Brunner. A lot of time."

George paused. There was a look on his face that hinted there had been more to the relationship between Michael and Brunner than just drugs. Although he couldn't seem to bring himself to speak the words, his distaste for the affair was evident. He stood and paced, his eyes far away as he continued. "Johan Brunner escaped a fraud indictment only because Michael was a brilliant attorney. He's scum, though, guilty as hell. He has connections all over the place. Drugs, black market, you name it. It's the drugs that Michael got mixed up in."

Chris swallowed hard, stunned by this admission. "Why would you allow Michael to take Brunner's case if you knew he was guilty of these terrible things? Isn't that the same as condoning his crimes?" He was suddenly questioning George's character, and that frightened him. Had his admiration for this man been misguided all along? Were all people so duplicitous?

"I didn't know," George said quickly. "Not then." As if to clarify, he added, "I don't follow individual cases that closely anymore. My partners and associates do all of the legwork. I just keep the machine greased. It was only when the situation with Michael came to light that I found out what kind of scum Brunner really was. By then, it was too late to do anything about it."

"George," Chris said, leaning forward and fixing the man with a serious stare, "if all of this is true, then why did you tell the police you could account for Michael's extended absences, that his