Extreme Denial Read Online Free PDF Page B

Decker avoided the potential trap of elevators.
    McKittrick seemed to take the precaution for granted. Even carrying his suitcase, the tall elderly man displayed no sign of exertion.
    They came to room 312. Decker knocked four times, a code to let McKittrick’s son know who was coming in, then used his key to unlock the door. The room’s darkness made him frown. He flicked a light switch and frowned more severely when he saw that the bed had not been slept in. “Shit.”
    “Where is he?” McKittrick demanded.
    Knowing that the effort was futile, Decker peered into the bathroom and the sitting room. “Your son has a bad habit of not following orders. This is twice today that he didn’t stay put when I told him to.”
    “He must have had an excellent reason.”
    “That would be a change. He left his suitcase. Presumably that means he’s planning to come back.” Decker noticed an envelope on the bedside table. “Here. This is addressed to you.”
    McKittrick looked uneasy. “You told him I was coming?”
    “Of course. Why? What’s the matter?”
    “Perhaps that wasn’t the wisest thing.”
    “What was wrong with telling him that his father was coming?”
    But McKittrick had already opened the note. His aged eyes narrowed. Otherwise, he showed no reaction to what he was reading.
    At last, he lowered the note and exhaled.
    “So?” Decker asked.
    McKittrick didn’t answer.
    “What is it?”
    McKittrick still didn’t answer.
    “Tell me.”
    “I’m not certain.” McKittrick sounded hoarse. “Perhaps it’s a suicide note.”    -
    “Suicide? What the—” Decker took the note from him. It was handwritten, its salutation giving Decker an image of an Ivy-Leaguer who had never grown up.
     
Pops —
I guess I screwed up again. Sorry. I seem to say that a lot , don’t I? Sorry. I want you to know that this time I really tried. Honestly, I thought I had it all figured out. The bases covered. The game in the bag. Talk about being wrong, huh?
I don’t know which is worse—embarrassing you or not becoming you. But I swear to you, this time I won’t run away from my mistake. The responsibility is mine. And the punishment. When I’ve done what needs to be done, you won’t be ashamed of me any longer.
Bry
     
    McKittrick cleared his throat as if he was having difficulty speaking. “That was my nickname for Brian. Bry.”
    Decker reread the note. “ ‘The responsibility is mine. And the punishment .’ What’s he saying?”
    “I’m very much afraid that he intends to kill himself,” McKittrick said.
    “And that’s going to stop you from being ashamed of him? You think that’s what his last sentence means?” Decker shook his head. “Suicide might wipe out his shame, but it wouldn’t stop yours. Your son isn’t talking about killing himself. That wouldn’t be dramatic enough.”
    “I don’t know what you’re ...”
    “He’s a grandstander. ‘I won’t run away from my mistake. The responsibility is mine. And the punishment.’ He’s not talking about suicide. He’s talking about getting even. He’s going after them.”
    13
    As Decker swerved the rented Fiat onto the side street off Via dei Condotti, his headlights pierced the persistent rain, revealing two police cars, their roof lights flashing. Two policemen in rain slickers stood in the illuminated entrance to an apartment building, talking to several distressed-looking people in the vestibule, all of whom wore pajamas or bathrobes. Lights were on in many windows.
    “Damn it, I hoped I’d be wrong.”
    “What is this place?” McKittrick asked.
    “I followed your son and a woman here on Friday,” Decker said. “Her first name’s Renata. I wasn’t given her last. Probably an alias. She’s the leader of the group your son recruited, which means she’s the leader of the group that blew up the Tiber Club. In other words, the terrorists.”
    “That’s an assumption. You can’t be certain that the two groups are the same,”