“This feels like your moment,” Noah continued. “Your opportunity to say whatever it is you think I’ve done. To call me out. To hold the truth-seeker accountable.”
Matias’s gaze shifted.
Noah turned his head just slightly, following Matias’s line of sight. Then back to his father. “Are you looking at my girlfriend? Or my researcher?”
“Neither,” Matias said.
“Interesting, because someone sent my girlfriend flowers,” he continued, his tone tightening just enough to sharpen the point, “and signed my name to the card.” He leaned forward, closing the distance between them by inches.
“I’m thinking that might’ve been you, too—though not directly,” Noah added, "Through someone else. Someone we all know.” Noah paused as he watched the cameraman begin the countdown to the commercial break. All he needed was to land this one perfectly. Just a few more sections. “Wonder who that could be?”
The green light on the camera went from green to red. The makeup artist came flying through the door. Ziggy stayed by the wall, keeping Claire occupied, and Noah did his best to keep his heart from jumping right out of his chest.
18
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Noah adjusted his sportscoat, more out of habit than necessity, buying himself half a second to settle the adrenaline surge still riding under his skin. “My job,” he said, making sure he kept his voice void of emotion. “You said you’ve seen my show. You know how this works.”
“This is an ambush. I don’t know what you think you’ve got on me, but it’s bullshit, and I want you to stop,” Matias said. “This is not what I agreed to.”
“In the five years I’ve been doing this show, I’ve only been wrong on live TV maybe ten times,” Noah said, rolling his shoulders back, loosening the tension he didn’t want appearing on camera. “There are things I don’t know when it comes to you. I freely admit that.” He held his father’s gaze. “But that doesn't mean I’m wrong about you.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
Ziggy gave him a single, steady nod. Her support gave him more courage than she might ever know.
Claire stood rigid near the wall, color drained from her face, and her hands tight at her sides. This wasn’t the Claire Noah had known the last few months. She wasn’t the confident womanwho’d come on way too strong. This was a woman who knew her mask was about to be yanked off, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Noah didn’t take pride in that. Not this time. Maybe because it was personal.
“We’re back on in ten seconds,” Noah said. “Buckle up. Last segment.”
He watched the countdown like he always did, putting on that million-dollar smile he was so famous for.
“Welcome back, folks,” Noah said, turning back to the camera, his tone shifting seamlessly into something controlled and deliberate. “When we cut to commercial, I was trying to understand what I’d done that had offended Matias so badly that he felt the need to threaten me, make an implied threat against my girlfriend, and also choose to use someone I know to do his dirty work.” He leaned forward, closing the space just enough to make it feel like a dare. “Which includes having my ex accuse me publicly of something I didn’t do.”
Noah took a breath. He needed to. The rush of words had spilled out of his mouth faster than they should have. “Tell me, Matias, who helped you put Monica in the hospital? Was it our mutual friend? Or did you hire someone else?”
A sharp intake of breath from behind him cut through the room.
Noah didn’t look away from his father, even though he could feel the shift around him. This wasn’t how he usually ran his show. He didn’t corner people like this. He let them talk themselves into it, let the truth surface slowly and inevitably.
But Matias wasn’t most people.
And Noah didn’t have the luxury of time.
“Are you having a good time?” Matias asked.
“A good time would be sitting on my back patio with Ziggy, drinking tequila and listening to the water hit the shore,” Noahsaid. “So, no. This isn’t fun. I didn’t want to do this. And since my show is about truths,” he looked directly into the camera, “let me be clear that I’m doing this interview because I felt manipulated. I felt threatened by a man who I used to call dad.” He shifted his gaze back to his father. It was a calculated move for television. He wouldn’t have done it like that had it just been the two of them. But there was no way in hell he could’ve said the worddadwhile looking Matias in the eye. All those years of being stuck between the father who’d showed up and the one who killed twelve women?
Gone. Evaporated faster than Noah could even think it.
“And I don’t want to see another person I care about get hurt in whatever twisted game you’ve decided to play because you’re bored, can’t kill, and pissed off at me.”
“I think you’re the one who has anger problems.” Matias leaned back and drummed his fingers on the armrest like he’d just declared checkmate. “All those years of pent-up daddy issues.” Matias shook his head. “During my trial, I’d often look over my shoulder, and I’d see you sitting there, just staring off into space with a blank look in your eyes, void of emotion. And I’d watch those news programs where your mother, may she rest in peace, would shuffle you out of the federal building and you’d be all stoic, looking straight ahead, ignoring the microphones and cameras. I didn’t know whether I should be proud or sad.”
“There’s no reason for you to be proud of that moment because it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with a teenager coming to terms with the fact his father was a rapist and a murderer.” Noah picked up the puck, turning it once in his hand before setting it down with quiet intent. “One of the reasons I’ve kept my identity hidden for so long is that, as an investigative reporter myself, I’d want to know what the hell was going on inside the head of a serial rapist and murderer. I’m one of the key things everyone brings up on the anniversary of yoursentencing.” Noah turned toward the camera. “And since we’re sitting here, and we have a little time, I’ll tell you. I’m sure my viewers are curious, too.”