The cold moonlight slanted through the blinds, layering shadows on the hotel-room carpet. He studied the icy grid pattern and thought about the past.After a while he opened the small bottle he had taken from the minibar. He rarely drank scotch, generally only when he was facing a brick wall.The scotch was appropriate tonight. Not just because of the brick wall he was about to confront, but because his father had favored scotch. And this was all about his father.The door opened. A wedge of harsh corridor light angled across the floor. Hayden stood silhouetted in the doorway.“We need to talk,” Jack said from the shadows near the window. “Come in and close the door. This won’t take long.”“What the hell are you doing here? How did you get into my room?”“Swiped a master key from housekeeping.”“Shit. You haven’t changed, have you?” Hayden closed the door. He did not turn on the light. “A real chip off the old block.”“I didn’t come here to talk about the past.”“No?
