by Ingrid Thoft
Fina sank into the deep sectional and filled Scotty in on her latest exploits. He took notes and made a couple of phone calls. She took a trip to the powder room at one point and examined her face in the full-size mirror. The bruises from the car accident had faded, but the scratches on her face from her cast were weeping a mix of pus and blood. She considered her reflection for a moment. This degree of personal injury would only get more taxing as she aged, and more importantly, it would start to take a toll on her looks. Twenty more years of this and she’d look like a semi had run over her face.
“Is Haley still here?” she asked Scotty when she returned to the kitchen.
“In the guest room at the top of the stairs. She was watching TV. You gonna tell me why you want her with us?”
“Not yet.”
Scotty jotted a few more notes on a yellow legal pad. “All right. I have what I need. What time should I meet you down there?”
Fina was silent for a moment. “Nine. I’m meeting Pitney at nine.” She stared at Scotty, who was bent over his pad.
“Nine it is.”
“I’m going to pop upstairs and see if Haley’s awake.”
“See you in the morning,” Scotty called after her.
At the top of the stairs, Fina poked her head into the darkened guest room. The only light was provided by a large, flat-screen TV. Haley looked small in the queen-size bed. She was lying on her side, her body in a fetal position pointed toward the TV and the foot of the bed. A puffy down duvet was grasped in her hands. She blinked and looked up at Fina.
“Did I wake you?” Fina asked as she came into the room. She sat down on the bed near her niece’s head.
“No.”
Fina looked at the screen. A Hollywood has-been was sitting in group therapy, crying about his beloved Labradoodle that died in a Malibu fire. Fina looked down at Haley and watched the sweeping motion made by her eyelashes when she blinked. Haley had been one of those babies with long, lush eyelashes—the kind that generally disappear once infants become toddlers. Hers hadn’t. They were a reminder of the soft, sweet-smelling baby she’d been.
“Hale,” Fina said. “I need to ask you something.”
“What?” Haley asked and looked at her.
“It’s about your dad.”
Haley’s gaze floated back to the TV.
“I’m not sure how to ask,” Fina said.
“Don’t,” Haley implored in a whisper.
Fina put her hand over her niece’s, the one squeezing the duvet. “I have to.” Fina took a deep breath. “Did he hurt you?”
Haley stared at the screen. She pulled herself in closer, shrinking her body into a small ball. They were silent for a moment. Then Fina watched a tear shimmer on Haley’s lash.
Fina slid off the bed so she was eye level with Haley. “I will never let him touch you again.” She squeezed Haley’s hand and then released it.
Outside the room, she collided with Patty, who was now wearing a robe, her hair wrapped on top of her head in a towel turban.
Patty glanced over Fina’s shoulder toward the guest room. “She okay?”
“She’s upset. She could use a little mothering.” Fina walked to the stairs. “Apparently, she hasn’t had any for the past fifteen years.”
“Fina?” Patty asked, watching her scurry down the stairs. “What’s going—?”
The slammed front door was the only answer she got.
Fina made the short drive to Rand’s house and pulled into his driveway. She turned off the ignition and sat for a few minutes as the cool air in the car lost its chill. She rested her head on the steering wheel and tried to swallow the bile that was rising in her throat. As a rule, she didn’t shy away from confrontation, but she was dreading this conversation.
She climbed out of the car and bypassed the front door. Instead, she followed the intricate pattern of slate pavers around the side of the house. Fina stepped from the shrouded path into the vast backyard. The perimeter was lit by small, unobtrusive lights, and the only sound was the slight rustle of wind in the trees. At the side of the pool, she stopped for a moment, bent down, and trailed her fingers through the illuminated water.
The house was dark except for one large square of light that emanated from Rand’s office. Fina could see him sitting behind his desk, studying something on his computer screen.
The French doors off the family room were open, so she slipped into the house and padded down the hallway to his office. She rested her head against the heavy wooden door frame and studied her brother. After a few seconds, he looked up and flinched.
“Jesus Christ. How long have you been there?” Rand made some rapid clicks with the mouse.
“You’re awfully jumpy.”
“You look like shit.” He tipped back in his chair. “What’s going on with you and Haley?”
“What do you mean?”
“She didn’t want to come home tonight. She said that you thought it was a good idea for her to stay with Scotty and Patty.”
“I do think it’s a good idea.” Fina sat down in the chair across from him with her back rigid. Just beneath the surface of her skin, her pulse was racing.
“Why? She needs her father right now.”
Fina glared at him. “No she doesn’t.”
“I know you’re pissed at me about the hooker thing, but you need to back off.”
“Just let me help her, Rand. Stay out of it.”
“I’m not going to stay out of it! She’s my kid!”
Rand got up from his seat and poured two glasses of scotch at the wet bar. “Here.” He handed a glass to Fina and sat back down at his desk. “Your heart’s in the right place—you think she needs a mom since Melanie died, or maybe your biological clock is ticking—but you’re interfering. Just back off and let me do the parenting.”
A wave of nausea washed over Fina. For a moment, she thought she might vomit on the expensive Oriental rug. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
Fina took a long sip of her drink. She stared at her brother. “This is your last chance to stop this conversation.”
“What are you talking about?”
Fina slammed her glass down on the desk. “I know, Rand. I know! I know what you did to her!”
“Know what?”
Fina’s eyes widened, and she struggled to say something. “Have you actually convinced yourself it never happened?”
Rand rocked his glass back and forth, the amber liquid running up the side and then sliding back down. His jaw was set in a way that was familiar to Fina. All of the men in her family clenched their jaws when they’d had enough.
“You’re . . .” Fina struggled to find the right words.
Rand held his hands up in a motion of surrender. “Look, there’s been some misunderstanding. What did Haley say? You should know by now that she lies when it suits her.”
A half-strangled noise escaped Fina’s mouth. “She didn’t tell me anything. I figured it out on my own. You molest her and then claim she’s lying? You’re poisonous.”
Rand swallowed the remainder of his drink, got up, and grabbed the bottle from the bar. He sat back down and refilled his glass. Another sip, and then he tilted his head and examined his sister.
“What did you and Melanie fight about at Grahamson?” Fina asked. “Your relationship with Haley and her new line of work?”
Rand peered at her. “Our fight had nothing to do with Haley.”
“So it was just about your extracurricular activities? Melanie did some digging that led her to Prestige?”
Rand blinked. “What are you talking about, ‘Haley’s line of work’?”
“Melanie went to see Bev Duprey because of you. She ended up getting killed because of you.”
“Whatever happened to Melanie wasn’t my fault.”
Fina searched his f
ace.
“I want to know about this Haley thing,” Rand pushed.
Fina shook her head in disgust. “No. You don’t get to know anything anymore. Stay away from her,” Fina said. “If you don’t, I’m going to let Dad in on your little secret.”
Rand laughed sharply, like a seal barking. “Listen to yourself: ‘I’m going to tell Dad.’ You sound like a five-year-old. Dad’s not going to believe your garbage, and there isn’t any proof because it isn’t true. Haley has always been difficult, and even more so since Melanie’s death.”
“Her murder,” Fina insisted. “Melanie was murdered.”
“And your only job was to get me off on the murder charge.”
“Actually, my job was to find out who killed your wife, not that you give a shit.”
“I loved Melanie once, and you don’t know shit when it comes to my marriage or my family life. You can’t keep a man, let alone be married and have a child.”
She chose not to rise to his bait. Instead, Fina studied the pattern beneath her feet. Some woman, somewhere in Iran, had toiled for hours on the square foot beneath her shoe.
Rand stared at her. “Have you gotten me off the murder charge?”
Fina shook her head slowly and tried to process her brother’s narcissism. “I think that charge—the murder charge—will be dropped.”
“What do you mean, ‘that charge’?”
“I don’t know about the others.”
Rand’s faced tightened; she would have missed it if she weren’t familiar with the planes of his face. “There are no other charges, Fina.”
“Not yet.”
Rand stared at her. He reached for his drink and finished it in one large swallow. “What are you talking about?”
Fina stood up. She leaned over his desk, her face just inches from Rand’s. The smell of scotch hung between them. “I’m done covering your ass.”
Fina started for the door.
“We’re not done,” Rand said, and rose up out of his chair.
“Maybe you’ll end up in Walpole. You could be somebody’s girlfriend—find out how your daughter felt,” Fina said as she started to cross the threshold.
In two quick steps, Rand was across the room. He grabbed Fina’s arm and shoved her into the door frame. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
Fina pushed him away and punched him in the nose. Rand cried out in pain and covered his face with his hands. Blood spurted from between his fingers, and he fell to the floor. She kicked him in the ribs, but he grabbed her ankle and dug his nails into her flesh. Fina reached into her waistband and pulled out her gun. She knelt down next to him and aimed it at his head. “I’ve shot one person tonight. You wanna make it two?”
Rand released her ankle and curled into the fetal position. He moaned and spat out a globule of blood and saliva. “You’re supposed to protect the family!”
Fina stood up and kicked him in the balls. He mewled like a kitten.
“I am protecting the family, asshole. I’m protecting your daughter.”
She left him bleeding on the rug.
Fina couldn’t stomach the idea of going home to Nanny’s, the wall of family photos peering down at her. Instead, she drove to Frank and Peg’s house. She made her way down the bulkhead stairs and dropped down onto the edge of the bed in the basement bedroom. Thankfully, Fina had thought to stash the pain pills from the orthopedist in her bag, but she didn’t want to take them on an empty stomach. She tiptoed upstairs and slipped into the kitchen.
A small light shone over the stove, and Peg was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug. Peg suffered from insomnia, and although Fina wasn’t surprised to find her there sipping a cup of warm milk, she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. But before she could retreat, Peg looked up, and their eyes met.
“Come sit down,” Peg said. Then she got up from the table and left the room. Fina sat, and a few minutes later, Peg came back with a doctor’s bag.
She didn’t say anything as she tended to Fina’s wounds. Peg had a deft, gentle touch, but she didn’t stop when Fina flinched or voiced her pain. She and Fina were alike in many ways; they both got the job done even when it was nasty.
“This is just a stopgap,” Peg told her as she threw out the soiled gauze. “You need to go to the hospital.”
“I know.” Fina watched as Peg poured another mug of milk and stuck it in the microwave. It dinged after a minute, and she placed it in front of Fina. “Did you wake up Frank?” Fina asked.
“No. He already knows you’re hurt. One of us should get some sleep.” She watched Fina, but her expression softened when she noticed Fina’s eyes were welling up.
“What is it, sweetie?” she asked, and took her hand between her own.
Fina shook her head, but didn’t speak. To do so would dislodge the lump in her throat and let loose a deluge. She quickly brushed off the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Peg pushed back her chair and wrapped her arms around her. She squeezed her, and Fina relaxed her muscles and sank into the embrace.
Fina woke up a few hours later in the basement bedroom and glanced at the clock. It was three A.M. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Five hours until she was due at the police station.
People always talk about the wisdom of taking the time to make a thoughtful decision, that well thought out courses of action are generally the best, but Fina disagreed. If you thought too carefully about doing something, you could always find a reason not to. If you looked at the consequences, you’d be crazy to go through with it, but you’d also be wrong not to.
Sleep eluded her, so she got up and ran a bath and slipped into the steaming water. The walls of the bathroom were decorated with framed landscape photos that Frank and Peg’s oldest son had taken in Alaska. He’d spent a semester at the University of Alaska Fairbanks and was seduced by the breathtaking beauty and adventures offered by the forty-ninth state. Fina knew that Frank and Peg missed him terribly, but she also realized that his absence cleared the way for her presence in their lives.
When she stepped out of the tub, her skin was red and hot. She struggled to put her wet hair into a bun and then pulled on her clothes. In the mirror, her bare face gazed back at her. Her neck looked worse this morning; deep purple bruises circled her flesh, and the burst blood vessels in her eye were less discrete and blotchier than they’d been the night before. She rummaged in the medicine cabinet for a toothbrush and toothpaste. There was something amazingly restorative about brushing one’s teeth.
“Fina,” she heard Frank say when she opened the bathroom door and flicked off the light.
“Hi. Did I wake you?” she asked. He was sitting on the end of the bed in sweatpants and a Bruins T-shirt.
Frank shrugged. “Something did. You headed to the hospital?”
“The police, then the hospital.”
Frank nodded. “What’s going on?”
Fina sank down next to him. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “I . . . I’m . . .” She was silent.
“Wow. If you’re speechless, it must be pretty awful.”
“It is. Rand didn’t kill Melanie, but he’s done some terrible things.” Fina didn’t look at him. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, what are your options?”
“They all suck. That’s the problem. If I give the police information, my father will go crazy, but if I don’t, then someone else is going to get hurt—badly. And I actually like to cooperate with the cops when possible. I don’t obstruct them just for the fun of it.”
“So what if your father goes crazy?”
Fina gave him a pleading look. “Frank, come on. You know what. Family loyalty is everything to him, and he has a hand in every part of my life—work, my brothers, my niece and nephews.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t.”
Fina was growing i
rritated. “Fine, but that’s an issue for another day. I have to figure out what to do now.”
Frank thought for a moment. “You can’t control your father, but at the end of the day, you still have to live with yourself. You’re fierce when it comes to protecting people, whether they’re related to you or not.” He gently tapped her cast. “That’s what gets you into so much trouble. It’s also one of the wonderful things about you.”
“So you think I should tell the cops about Rand?”
“I think you should do whatever you think is right without worrying about damage control. Let the chips fall where they may. I know that’s anathema to you Ludlows, but you’re more than just a Ludlow. Sometimes you forget that.”
They sat silently, the only sound a pipe humming in the ceiling.
“Do you have a thumb drive I can borrow? And your computer?” Fina asked.
“In the den.”
Fina followed him upstairs, sat down in front of Frank’s computer, and logged on to her laptop. She downloaded some documents onto the thumb drive, which she dropped into her bag next to a manila folder.
“You want me to go with you?” Frank asked.
“No, thanks. Milloy will do the honors.”
Frank went back to bed, and she speed-dialed Milloy.
“Really?” Milloy answered. “It’s four A.M.”
“I know, but it’s important.”
“What is it?”
“Can you meet me at police headquarters?”
“Because . . .”
“Because I could use a little moral support.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
On the steps of the station, Milloy’s reaction to her appearance confirmed her assessment.
“You look like someone ran over you,” he said, looking at her wide-eyed.
“I know. What can I say? I’ve had a busy twelve hours.”
“How about a doctor after this?”
“How about this, my dad’s office, a doctor, and then your place? I want to lie in bed and watch that show—you know the one, where they bring the baby home? The one where they realize they’re in deep shit.” Fina blinked and looked at Milloy. “Imagine that. I have a plan.”