Chapter Text
In hindsight, Hank should have known that his father was planning something. The Lawsons didn’t do family trips, not since their mother passed. Sure, every few years or so, Eddie would come home in the dead of night, wild-eyed and breathing heavy, to force the boys to pack up their things—quickly, hurry now—and move on to a new town. But vacations? Hank couldn’t remember the last time the Lawson family took a real vacation, one not involving Eddie conning tourists.
“Welcome to the Hamptons, boys!”
The motel was actually on the outskirts of the Hamptons, grungy and smelling strongly of tobacco.
“Sweet,” Evan said, eyes bright and wide. “I can’t believe we’re really in the Hamptons!”
“Hm,” Hank agreed, managing to catch the excited twelve-year-old before he launched himself onto the single queen bed in the middle of the room. Red flag number two: Eddie booked a single, not a double.
“Hang on there, Ev, let me check the bed first.”
“Check it for what, the boogeyman?” Eddie dragged their suitcase into the room, grunting only slightly as the broken and duct-taped wheel caught on the threshold and had to be torn loose.
Hank didn’t bother to reply. If he admitted to looking for lice and bed bugs, Evan would definitely freak out and be up all night scratching at phantom itches. Hank turned the pillows over and shook out the bedding while Eddie putzed about the room.
“Stop it, Hank, the bed is fine,” Eddie finally intervened, batting his eldest son away from the bed and throwing the bedding back onto the mattress when no bugs were to be found.
Hank let his father push him back, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Easy for Eddie to be so dismissive. He wouldn't be the one calming Evan down or cleaning the apartment if this motel was infested. Somewhat settled, Eddie clapped his hands and reached out to his sons. Evan came eagerly, grinning and happy to receive their father’s full attention. Hank let Eddie’s hand fall on his shoulder but found himself holding his breath, waiting for the shoe to drop.
“Would it kill you to smile, Hank?” Eddie asked, laughing as he gave both his sons a little shake. “It’s the Hamptons. Music, food, sun, and waves! Doesn’t that sound like fun!”
“It sounds awesome.” Evan was practically vibrating with excitement.
Hank thought it sounded like something they couldn’t afford.
“Oh, come on, Hank, stop looking so dour and serious,” Eddie coaxed, hearing the unspoken words and sweeping them aside. “It’s spring break! It’s your senior year spring break!”
Evan’s smile faltered a little, his eyes flickering up to Hank. Hank instinctively grabbed Evan’s arm, squeezing.
“Let’s go have some fun, eat some crab legs or whatever it is fancy people eat at the Hamptons and –” Eddie dragged Evan into a headlock, the youngest Lawson shouting and trying to escape – “let’s get this one a boogie board for those waves.”
“You mean it?” Evan asked, trapped under Eddie’s arm and vainly trying to wiggle to freedom.
“I mean it,” Eddie said. “Now come on, grab your sunglasses, and let’s go check it out. Sounds like fun, right Hank?”
Evan turned large, round eyes up at his brother. If Hank couldn’t remember the last time the Lawsons took a family vacation, Evan certainly didn’t.
“Yeah, sounds like fun,” Hank lied.
As promised, on the way, Eddie bought a boogie board from a colorful tourist trap. Hank watched as Eddie dug crumpled bills out of the hideous faux leather wallet Evan had given him for his birthday two years ago. At his elbow, Evan buried a grin against his brother’s arm as if to say look, it’s his money.
“I’m not rescuing you if you get swept out to sea,” Hank said instead of considering what scam Eddie ran to get the cash.
He didn’t believe for one second that the money came from any honest work. Eddie often managed to go a few months at ‘normal’ jobs . . . usually as a cover for his more lucrative, illegal ventures.
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you will,” Eddie snorted because he couldn’t let Hank have anything.
The beach was loud, hot, and sticky. Evan loved every second of it. He barely stood still long enough for Hank to smear sunscreen across his face before making a beeline for the waves. They spent most of the day at the beach, Evan hollering for Eddie and Hank to ‘watch this’ or ‘check this out’ (actions which more often than not ended with the boogie board smacking Evan in the face). Hank allowed himself to be dragged into the water, drawn into whatever ridiculous game Evan invented. Eddie stayed on the shoreline, but he laughed and shouted and even procured a football at some point that he launched out to sea for his sons to chase and catch.
It was the best day the Lawsons had in years.
Hank didn’t even question the hot dogs that appeared around lunch or the ice cream when they finally dragged Evan out of the water around sunset.
“There’s supposed to be fireworks tomorrow, we should try to go early and get a good spot to see them,” Eddie said, gesturing with the melting remains of his ice cream. A glob of chocolate slouched off at the movement and Hank let out an amused huff.
“Evan would like that.”
“Is Evan the only one who would?”
Hank rolled his eyes, glancing over at Evan, who was washing the sand off his new boogie board a few yards away. His hair was wild and wind-blown, dried streaks of sunscreen on his cheek. He grinned when he noticed Hank watching, waving the boogie board over his head in a cheerful hello.
“It sounds like fun,” Hank admitted, turning back to their father. “Today was fun. Thank you.”
“Oh, Hank.” Eddie threw an arm around Hank’s shoulders, drawing his son in. He pressed his face into Hank’s hair, probably as wild and wind-blown as his brother’s. “You don’t have to thank me. That’s what family’s for.”
Hank smiled and leaned into the contact, just a little, not allowing himself to believe the words but maybe accepting the comfort was safe.
“You looked so happy out there with Evan today! Smiling and laughing! You’re always so serious, I miss the little boy who was always causing mischief and getting into trouble.”
And, just like that, the day’s illusion crumbled. Hank pulled away from his father, no longer smiling.
After their mother got sick, Eddie withdrew. When he left on jobs, he would be gone for periods of time so long that sometimes Hank thought he’d never return. Someone had to make sure Evan got to school on time, that their mother’s medicine refills were called in, that dinner was on the table, and Eddie wasn't up to the job. After their mother passed, it took Hank two whole days to get ahold of him.
In many ways, Hank thought, some things never changed.
Hank forced Evan into the shower almost immediately after they returned to the motel.
“Dad—” Evan complained, turning to their father as though it would save him.
Eddie rocked back on his heels, gaze briefly taking in Hank’s clenched jaw, before he ventured, “Ah well, Hank is probably right—”
“You are disgusting, you cannot go to bed like this, covered in salt, ice cream, and whatever bacteria was floating around in the waves – you need a bath.” Hank pointed at the bathroom, unwilling to budge.
“Ugh, you’re so bossy,” Evan whined.
“And don’t take up all the hot water!” Hank called. “I need to take one too!”
Evan gave no indication of hearing him, slamming the bathroom door shut. What a little diva, Hank thought, fond. He turned around and Eddie caught his eye for a second before looking away.
Hank’s heart sank.
“What?”
“I, um, there’s a quick errand I need to run—”
“Oh, an errand, huh—”
“Hank, I can’t do this with you right now,” Eddie said, taking a few bills out of his wallet and waving them at his son. “I’m leaving this on the table. I should be back by breakfast but just in case, get you and your brother something hot.”
“Oh, you should be—”
“Yes, Hank, I should be back in four, five hours tops, don’t be so dramatic about it.”
Where are you going? The words clawed up Hank's throat, razor sharp and ready to draw blood, but he swallowed them back. They always ended up hurting him worse than Eddie.
“Really Hank, just a couple of hours, and I’ll take us out to breakfast, okay?”
In the background, the shower sputtered on, Evan yelping at either too hot or too cold water. Hank stared at the wall just above his father’s head.
“It’ll be fast, Hank, I promise.”
Hank turned away instead of watching Eddie slip out of the room. He waited a few seconds then crossed the floor, one hand reaching out for the deadbolt. He waited a couple seconds more. Eddie didn’t return, so Hank locked the door. Eddie wouldn’t be coming back that night, of that Hank was certain.
Evan emerged from the shower pink-faced and decidedly cleaner to find Hank alone, combing through the TV channels.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Errand.” Hank held the remote out to Evan. “My turn to shower. Here, find something good.”
Evan glanced at the door, then quietly took the remote as Hank slipped into the bathroom. He turned the shower up as hot as it would go and found he couldn’t even get annoyed when it barely came out lukewarm. He showered slowly anyway, taking his time to remove any trace of the day, every grain of salt and sand mercilessly scrubbed away. He made the mistake of catching sight of his reflection in the mirror as he dried off. He badly needed a haircut, damp curls hanging down into his eyes. He looked angry. He looked tired.
Hank closed his eyes and blew out a long, soft breath. He forced the tension to bleed from his system; unclenching his jaw, lowering his shoulders, fingers flat against the counter. . . before opening his eye once more. Still tired, but the anger had bled away. He smiled and the reflection mimicked the expression, a near emotionless movement that didn’t reach the eyes.
Yeah, I don’t believe me either, Hank agreed and opened the bathroom door.
The TV was off, his little brother tucked in bed. Hank, who had been expecting the preteen wide awake with some ridiculous drama queued up, froze. At the sound of the bathroom door closing, Evan half-turned and looked at his brother.
“It was a good day,” Evan said but it came out more like a question, the last word wavering as he peered over the bedding at Hank and the empty space where Eddie should be.
“Yes, Evan, it was,” Hank agreed because Evan needed it to be.
He turned the lights off and climbed into bed next to Evan. He had just gotten comfortable when Evan spoke again.
“What will you do?” Evan asked, his voice quiet in the darkness. His back was to Hank, shoulders drawn in tight. “After you graduate?”
They didn’t talk about Hank’s impending graduation—not Evan, not Eddie, not even Hank.
“I’ll go to school,” Hank replied, finding it easier to admit in the quiet darkness. “Not one far away, I’ll come back on the breaks and any weekend I can.”
I won’t leave you remained unsaid, but Hank knew his little brother heard it anyway from the way his shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“Then I’ll get a job. Something that pays good, steady money,” Hank continued. A doctor, he hoped, but the idea was so ludicrous, so far-fetched that he dared not admit it out loud. “Get an apartment in the city. That one might take a while, I think two-bedroom apartments are a bit expensive.”
He knew they were – he looked into it sometimes on nights when Eddie hadn’t come home for a few days or they had moved cities for the third time in a year, on nights when Hank longed for somewhere stable, somewhere Evan could actually put his clothes away in drawers instead of an old suitcase with a broken wheel. A place they could call home and it wouldn’t feel like a lie.
Evan rolled over, his hands clenching and unclenching on the covers. “Two-bedroom?”
Hank offered his brother a smile he probably couldn’t see in the darkness. “Well, I assume you don’t want to share a room with your bossy big brother forever.”
Evan huffed a little, fingers reaching out across the bed but not quite touching Hank. “A bedroom all of my own . . . that would be nice. But it doesn’t really matter. As long as you’re there.”
Emotion burned behind Hank’s eyes, and he blinked hard, trying to clear the red-hot prickling from his sight, and forced words through a too-tight throat, “Yeah Ev, I’ll be there.”
Eddie still had not returned, but his sons had long since stopped waiting up for Eddie R. Lawson. Evan’s breath evened out. Hank watched the rise and fall of his brother’s chest and wondered if any acceptance letters would be waiting for him when they left the Hamptons, and what his father would say if there were. Eddie never asked Hank about his plans after graduation and Hank never offered any insight. Last summer, Hank worked whatever spare jobs he could get his hands on between taking care of Evan and sitting for the SAT. Every penny was carefully tucked away for college application fees; by the end of summer, it was enough to apply to a handful of schools. Hank glanced at Evan, the faint hint of sunburn along the edges of his ears, dead to the world from the excitement of the day.
Evan deserved more days like this when he could just be a kid and have fun.
One day, Hank thought fiercely, closing his eyes.
He nodded off at some point around two am. The knock on the door came about an hour later.
Hank woke with a quiet violence, heart in his throat and already on his feet before the sound fully registered. Evan woke with a gasp at the second knock and Hank made a desperate shushing motion at him. Evan pressed both hands against his mouth, scrambling to his feet.
“Open up, this is the police,” the knocker announced, loud and clear.
Eddie.
A pained whine escaped between Evan’s fingers.
“It’s okay,” Hank lied. “I’m sure it’s fine, Ev—” it wasn’t fine and they both knew it, Hank wasn’t sure why he even bothered lying. “Just, stay back okay, stay here.”
“This is the police,” their unwanted guest announced again, pounding harder.
Hank peered through the door’s peephole and saw two officers standing outside. He undid the deadbolt and opened the door just enough so the officers could see him but not Evan hyperventilating near the bed.
“You Edward Lawson’s son?” one of the officers asked. He looked Hank over and there was pity in his eyes as he took in Hank’s age.
“Yes, is everything alright?” Hank asked and hated how his voice came out, not quite steady but also not quite surprised. It wasn’t the first time officers had showed up looking for Eddie R. Lawson.
It was the first time in years, however. Eddie may be a conman, but as much as Hank hated to admit it, he was a good one. They were normally across state lines before anyone knew who to even look for. And, for all Eddie’s faults, he normally tried to keep his escapades far away from Hank and Evan.
“Is,” Hank wet his lips, feeling chilled to the bone, “is our dad okay?”
At the word our the officer’s gaze flickered behind Hank. Hank clung tighter to the door, shielding Evan from view.
“Your father is physically fine,” the second officer assured him. “But he has been arrested, and we need you to come down to the station. Your father mentioned two sons.”
“My brother, Evan,” Hank reluctantly admitted. “Let me get him dressed.”
Hank couldn’t quite make himself move, even as he heard Evan shuffling closer. “Is . . . what—”
“It’s better if we explain at the station.”
“Okay.” Hank took a shaking breath. “One moment.”
The officers apparently didn’t think he was a flight risk—or knew the only way out of the room was through the front door. They let him close the door and turn to Evan. Evan was pale, shaking in his pajamas and looking younger than his twelve years. For a moment, Hank almost just threw a coat on him, the unbidden thought that maybe they’ll take pity on us if they see Evan like this flittering through his otherwise blank mind.
He immediately shut the thought down.
“Come on, Ev,” he said gently instead, stepping forward with his arms outstretched like Evan was a frightened animal he was trying not to scare away. “Get dressed, we have to go.”
“Dad?” Evan asked.
“Yeah,” Hank said and pulled on cleaned clothes.
Evan clung to Hank’s side as they left the motel, basically squeezing into the same seat in the back of the cruiser. The drive to the station wasn’t long. Hank wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not. He climbed out of the vehicle, Evan velcroed to his side, and together the Lawsons walked inside.
The station was a blur of activity. There were at least a dozen officers moving around. Weaving among them were a few people—Hank’s stomach dropped—with the damning letters FBI written across their vests.
“Hank—” Evan gasped, his fingers digging into Hank’s arm so hard they drew blood as he noticed them too.
Dad, what did you do? Hank wondered in horror.
“Come on boys, just through here.” The officer that brought them in led Hank and Evan to a room off in the corner.
The room was dark and quiet, two chairs and a loveseat crammed into the small space. Eddie was not there.
“Your dad said you’re eighteen?” the officer confirmed, squinting at Hank. “So, I don’t need to call child services?”
“I’m eighteen,” Hank almost tripped over the words in his haste to get them out. It never—he hadn’t thought. . . . Hank glanced down at Evan, pushing the younger boy slightly behind him. They wouldn’t take Evan from him, would they?
Eddie, what did you do?
“When can we see our dad?” Evan asked, his voice small as he peeked around Hank’s side.
He peered up at the officer through his eyelashes, lip quivering just a hair. Making himself look young and vulnerable. Eddie taught him how to do that and Hank hated him a little more for it.
“Let me check,” the officer said. “You boys just hang tight.”
“Thank you,” Hank said, Evan softly repeating it.
The officer closed the door behind him and the Lawsons watched through the window as he strode away.
“Hank," Evan gasped, his voice barely audible.
“I don’t—” shit, this was bad. Hank glanced down at Evan who, while no longer putting on a show for an audience, still looked awfully young and scared.
“Why the Hamptons?” Hank asked, a suspicion worming its way into his thoughts. “Evan, why did we come to the Hamptons?”
“To go on vacation,” Evan said. “We—we are here on vacation, Hank.” The words came out desperate, as though if he repeated it enough, it would make them true.
The Lawsons don’t go on vacation, Hank thought. God, he was such an idiot. He should have realized sooner. The Hamptons were full of the rich and famous, tourists with too much money in their pockets. Prime targets for Eddie R Lawson. He was such a fool.
“Hank,” Evan started, then froze. He licked his lips. “Hank, that’s the FBI.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Hank said instead of answering.
There was some movement in the station behind them; the flurry of motion caught Hank’s eyes and he turned. A man, tall and dressed in a sleek suit, walked into the station as though he owned it, followed by a half dozen or so more men in suits. The tall man’s head turned and for the briefest second, their eyes locked. It was only for a moment, barely the span of a breath, but the intensity of those eyes was almost frightening. Hank looked away.
“Move over,” he said, moving to sit next to Evan on the loveseat.
It was almost two hours before anyone checked back in on the Lawsons. Evan fell asleep curled into Hank’s side, drooling on his shoulder. The officer visibly hesitated at the sight before gesturing to Hank.
“Your father asked to see you.”
“Hey Ev, I’ll be right back,” Hank said, moving the preteen off his shoulder.
“Hm?” Evan asked, barely awake until Hank stood up. “Wait, Hank, don’t—” leave me.
“I’ll be right back,” Hank promised, squeezing Evan’s shoulder so hard he felt the bone grind beneath his fingers. “Evan, look at me. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Evan gave a short, jerky nod, blinking, “Okay, yeah… just—just hurry back, okay?”
Hank gave what probably wasn’t a very reassuring smile and let the officer lead him out of the room. The station was quieter now, less people milling about. Hank was led to the back of the station, to the last door in a long narrow hallway. An FBI agent stood just next to the door, arms crossed and looking bored. As Hank and the officer approached, the agent opened the door and gestured for Hank to go in. Hank looked back at the officer, who gave an encouraging smile, so Hank stepped inside.
Inside the room, Eddie sat behind a table, his hands handcuffed in front of him. He started to stand when Hank walked into the room.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” the FBI agent warned. “Camera's off.”
“Yes, of course, thank you,” Eddie said, laying it on thick as the agent shut the door, the sickly-sweet gratitude falling on deaf ears.
“Hank, please sit, sit.” Eddie gestured at the seat across from him once the door shut, like this was just some normal day and they weren’t at a police station, the FBI right outside the door.
“Dad, what—what's going on?” Hank hissed, slipping into the chair and leaning across to stare at his father.
“Where’s Evan?” Eddie asked, ignoring Hank’s question. “Is he alright?”
“He’s scared out of his mind because the police dragged us out of bed at three in the morning and brought us down to the police station with the FBI.”
“Okay, okay, calm down, calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down, the FBI are here, Eddie.”
“It’s Dad to you,” Eddie snapped, his composure breaking.
Hank huffed out in disgust, leaning back in his seat.
“I didn’t, oh god this is such a mess,” Eddie groaned, rubbing his hands against his temple. “I’m sorry Hank, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s been a night—morning—whatever it is.”
“Yeah, must be rough on you.” The words burned dropping off Hank’s tongue and he felt a cold triumph in the wince they drew from his father.
“I messed up Hank, okay do you want to hear me say it? I messed up, I made a mistake. Are you happy now?”
He was the furthest thing from.
“What did you do?” Hank repeated, leaning back in and feeling the urge to repeat himself. “Dad, the FBI is here.”
Eddie sighed, looking old and tired. For a terrible moment, Hank was back in the hospital all those years ago when the doctor broke the news about their mother’s prognosis, Eddie staring blankly at the wall before disappearing for three months. Hank blinked the memory away.
“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, I think—I think I was set up,” Eddie hissed the last few words. “It was a job—” he stressed the word job in a way Hank knew meant con – “with a team here in the Hamptons, on a real diversified portfolio type. The idea was to pitch a new stock to one of the lower-level guys, get them to invest, and—” Eddie scrunched up his face, gesturing vaguely with his hands. "Everything was going perfectly, the buyer was happy, and we were just going to meet up tonight to tie up some loose ends."
Unfortunately, Hank knew exactly what he wasn’t saying. Sell phony stock to an investor working under contract for a client with enough money to not notice until it was too late, and then vanish with the cash. But that didn’t really explain—
“How much money, Dad?”
“Hank, listen, if I’d have known that—one of the guys must’ve sold us out, when I get my hands on him—"
“How. Much. Money.”
Eddie licked his lips, glancing up at the cameras. “Enough to send you to college like you always wanted. I know you thought I didn’t know about those applications you were sending out but I did.”
Hank’s breath caught. “Thousands?”
Eddie winced, making a see-sawing motion with his hand at first before gesturing upwards.
A million? Hank mouthed, unable to make his voice work. Eddie just stared at him, one shoulder rising in a half-shrug of admittance.
“You wanted to go to college,” Eddie said finally after a long stretch of stunned silence from Hank.
“I never asked you for this, for anything—” Hank said, his breath coming out fast. His face felt hot, eyes burning as his hands clenched and unclenched at his side.
“You shouldn’t have to, I’m your father. It’s my job to provide for you.” Eddie emphatically stabbed at the table with a finger.
Hank laughed, an ugly dark sound that echoed hollowly in the small room. “Provide, oh that’s rich coming from you. Like how you provide dinner on the table every night, make sure Evan finishes his homework and gets to bed on time, how you shop for clothes and household supplies—”
“I was doing it for you,” Eddie repeated.
“Were you, Eddie?” Hank asked, pushing his chair back. “Or were you doing it just to make yourself feel better? Running away from a problem like you always do instead of staying home and working through it. No—” Eddie opened his mouth, trying to interrupt. “You’re going to listen to me now, Dad. You never, not once, asked me what I wanted to do after graduation. You—you avoided the topic like a disease, like you do with every difficult subject. Did you even think about scholarships? About community colleges? About what I actually wanted?”
“Hank—”
“I’m not finished. Yes, I wanted to go to college and hell, maybe I could have before you went and screwed everything up because now—now,” Hank’s breath came in short bursts. He swallowed hard. “Now I can’t. Because now my father is going to jail and probably even federal prison. Now I have to get a job so child services don’t take Evan.”
Hank’s voice rose to a shout. He was on his feet and didn’t remember standing. His whole body was trembling with rage, with fear, with grief for a future he never realized he actually believed in until the moment it died.
“Hank—” Eddie reached out to his son, handcuffed hands rising as he stood.
Hank pulled away. “Did you ever really think about us at all?”
“Of course I did, Hank, I always do.”
“I don’t believe you,” Hank said and turned away.
Eddie called after him but it didn’t slow Hank down. The FBI agent raised an eyebrow at Hank as he emerged, blessedly keeping his silence as Hank shut the door on his father’s desperate pleas.
“Thank you,” Hank forced the words out at the agent, who inclined his head.
The silence of the hallway was oppressive. There was so much he needed to do. He needed to get back to Evan. When was their next rent due? How far ahead had Eddie already paid—
“Hank Lawson, a moment of your time, if you will.”
Hank pulled up short. It was the man from earlier, the one in the tailored suit that probably cost more than everything the Lawsons owned and then some. He was leaning against the doorway next to Eddie’s room. His words had a pleasant foreign lift to them, the voice soft but something told Hank the request could not be refused. The man inclined his head towards the room behind him and Hank, not sure what else to do, followed him inside. The door shut with a soft click but Hank’s attention was caught by the window on the other side of the room.
Behind a large pane of glass, Eddie Lawson stood, arms still outstretched and breathing hard.
“Hank,” Eddie said, voice cracking on the hard consonant of his son’s name.
The realization that this man had just witnessed the whole conversation between him and his father hit Hank like a physical blow. He felt nauseous and furious in equal measure, turning soundlessly to gape at the tall man as he stepped up next to the glass, fingers skimming over a stack of folders lying on a table beneath it. Hank could just barely make out the word Lawson on one of the files.
“It’s one-way glass,” the man volunteered as though that was Hank’s concern. “He can’t see or hear us.”
“And we couldn’t see you,” Hank accused.
The man inclined his head without the slightest hint of shame.
“Who are you?” Hank demanded, hands curling into fists at his side. God, could this nightmare never end?
“I,” the man turned enough to see both Hank and Eddie, “am the one your father attempted to steal from.”
Hank winced, and the man offered him what could almost pass for a smile.
“Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz.”
“Hank Lawson,” Hank automatically returned.
“I know. I believe congratulations are in order, Mr. Lawson.”
It was the first time anyone had ever called Hank Mr. Lawson. It startled him enough that it took several long seconds before he collected himself enough to ask, “Congratulations for what?”
“You were accepted into every school you applied to,” Boris explained.
“How could you possibly—?”
Boris dragged his fingers along the files in a manner that skewed them enough that the name Hank Lawson was now visible.
“Who are you?”
“Not an enemy of yours,” Boris said with such dismissiveness that it stopped anything Hank might have said in reply. “You want to be a doctor, yes?”
“Yes.” How could he possibly know that? Hank had never told a soul, except—
“Your teacher believes you will make a good doctor. Of course, that would be difficult were your father to go to prison.”
“Are you threatening me?” Hank demanded, unable to comprehend this bizarre world he had stepped into where strange well-dressed men talked to his high school guidance counselor and filled folders with their conversation, who called Hank Mr. Lawson and listened in on private conversations between father and son.
Eddie was in way over his head. There was a predatory air about Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz and Hank had the sinking realization that pinging this man’s radar was far, far worse than arousing the FBI’s attention.
“You would know if I were threatening you, Mr. Lawson,” the words were dry. “No, I am telling you that tonight’s operation was deliberate.”
“You mean a trap.”
“Hm, very much so yes. I cast the net, and there were far larger fish at play than your father,” Boris said. “Your father was merely a byproduct of that net.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Hank admitted, frustrated with all this subterfuge.
Boris turned back to the one-way glass. Eddie had collapsed back into his chair, face buried in his arm and one hand tightly fisted in his hair.
“I’m telling you because you scared your father today, more so than we ever could. And because, despite his terribly poor decision-making skills, he acted not with malice against me. He was looking out for his sons, albeit misguidedly, as you so elegantly informed him. Your father will not go to prison, Hank,” Boris said.
“How can you know that?”
“If your father turns witness against his accomplices, all charges will be dropped against him and he will have a job with my estate here in the Hamptons, with a generous enough pay, of course. I trust you can convince your father to agree to these terms.”
None of this made any sense, Hank thought, trying not to stare open-mouthed at the strange, almost otherworldly man across from him. What did Boris have to gain by offering this to Hank, to Eddie?
“I don’t understand why you’d do this, I mean, he tried to rob you. What do you get out of this?” Hank asked, not trusting the offer. It couldn’t be genuine; it was too good to be true.
“While not necessary, your father’s testimony will make prosecution quicker and easier. Not to mention quieter. And,” Boris drew the next words out carefully, “it would be a shame to rob the world of a promising future doctor.”
With careful deliberateness, Boris reached out and picked up the thickest file on the table and held it out to Hank.
“Is this Dad’s offer?” Hank asked as the file was pressed into his hands.
“No. It’s a scholarship,” Boris said, moving past Hank towards the door.
“A what?” Hank almost dropped the file in surprise.
Boris half turned, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raising. Even though he wasn’t smiling, Hank had no doubt the man was amused. “A scholarship, Mr. Lawson. For your schooling. I think you’ll find it will cover all your expenses for whatever school you choose.”
Now Boris did smile, one corner of his mouth lifting sharp and shark-like. “Until next time, Hank Lawson. Enjoy your classes.”