by Dianne Emley
“I believe you, Mom.”
“I love you, Rory. I loved you and Anya more than anything in the world, even though I know sometimes I didn’t act that way. I hope that one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.” Evelyn let go of Rory’s hands and pushed herself backward off the roof.
“Mom!” Rory grabbed her mother’s coat in both hands. Evelyn’s momentum nearly dragged her over the edge.
The doors of a van parked down the street flew open. Detective Henry Auburn jumped out first. Tom was on his heels, followed by other detectives. They’d all been listening through the wire that Rory wore.
“Somebody help!” Rory leaned halfway over the wall, still holding fast to Evelyn’s coat. The toes of her shoes scraped against the tar roof.
Evelyn was slipping out of her coat.
“Rory, let me go.” Evelyn’s voice was sad but calm.
“Hang on, Mom. Hold your coat in your fists.” The fabric of Evelyn’s coat slipped through Rory’s hands. “No!”
Rory flew backward onto the rooftop before she could see her mother hit the ground.
62
Auburn came up the stairs and burst onto the roof with Tom close behind him. Rory was sitting on the ground. She’d pulled up her T-shirt and was yanking off the microphone and transmitter that were taped to her chest. She threw them away as Tom dropped down beside her and took her into his arms.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded, dazed. She looked at Auburn, who had crouched near her. “Did you hear it?”
“Yes,” Auburn said. “We got it. Rory, what you did was heroic.”
Rory huffed out a breath. “I hardly feel like a hero. My mom is dead.”
Auburn leaned over and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Rory. If I had any idea that either of you were at risk, I’d have put someone on the roof with you.”
Rory looked at her palms, which were scratched from her fall. She blinked, feeling numb. “Do you believe her story?” she asked Auburn.
“Yes. It had details that weren’t public. The way she told it sounded authentic. I guess she decided that she had nothing to lose. I’ll give you some privacy.” Auburn went across the roof and down the stairs.
When they were alone, Rory said, “I couldn’t hold on, Tom.” Her voice cracked. “She just slipped out of my hands.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“She told me ‘Rory, let me go.’ ” She looked into his face. “Those were her last words.” Rory broke down and buried her face in his shoulder. “What did I do?”
“You did the right thing. You found out the truth.”
She sat up and wiped her face with a handkerchief he held out to her. “There’s more to do, Tom.”
63
Tom pulled his car into the parking lot of the Lincoln Heights Community Hospital. He opened Rory’s door and she tried to stand, but she was too weak. After the rush of adrenaline at the Killingsworth Building, she was drained. Tom scooped her into his arms and carried her across the lot, gazing into her face.
“I love you, Tom.”
“I love you. More than I can say.”
“I understand if you’re having doubts about us.”
“I’m not. I love you and I’m there for you, no matter what. You’re my girl.”
A dozen platitudes entered her mind as responses but none powerful enough to approach what she was feeling. She repeated her first simple and true statement: “I love you, Tom.”
* * *
Johnnie, the guard at the hospital’s front desk, took his time coming to the locked front doors. He spoke through the bulletproof glass.
“Folks, I can’t let you in here. The family doesn’t want you near Junior.”
Tom set Rory on her feet and helped her to stay standing.
Johnnie looked Rory over, frowning.
“Please tell Fermina I’m here,” Rory said. “Please.”
Just then, Fermina pushed open one of the swinging doors into the lobby. “Johnnie, it’s okay. Let them in.”
“You sure?”
“Please. I want them here.”
The big guard looked dubious, but he unlocked the glass door and pushed it open. Tom helped Rory inside.
Fermina picked up the crucifix on the chain around her neck and kissed it. She stroked Rory’s hair. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Fermina, this is my fiancé, Tom Fuller.”
Fermina extended her hand to him. “I’m pleased to meet you. Let’s go.” She led the way.
A nurse spotted Rory struggling to walk, being half-carried by Tom, and brought a wheelchair for her.
They turned at the T intersection that marked the entrance to the subacute unit. The wall there was still decorated for the beach party. Tom pushed Rory into Junior’s room and helped her stand.
Sylvia was dozing in a chair, still wearing a paper gown, mask, and latex gloves. She sleepily opened her eyes. “What the hell? Are those Junior’s clothes? Mom, she’s wearing Junior’s clothes. Where did you get those?”
“Mija, don’t,” Fermina warned.
“Mom, get her out of here.”
The tiny woman looked up at her daughter. “I want her here.”
“I don’t. My brother is dying. Can’t we have our privacy?”
“Rory is family,” Fermina said.
“My ass.”
“Sylvia.”
The way her mother said her name got Sylvia’s attention. She snapped her mouth shut.
Tom walked into the hallway and began putting on protective garments, taking a set for Rory. Fermina was re-dressing herself in these garments, having discarded the ones she was wearing when she left the room.
Sylvia’s cell phone rang. She looked at the display. “It’s Detective Auburn.” She left the room.
Rory saw that the first bed, where Mr. Patyk had been, was empty, stripped to the mattress. The photographs and name banner on his bulletin board were gone. The void chilled Rory. She looked at the cluttered walls and ceiling around Junior’s bed. Soon everything of his would also be gone.
Junior had turned his head on the pillow to look at Rory as soon as she’d entered, now able to focus his eyes on her as their bond was now complete. His body was quiet and his complexion was ashen. He knew all that Rory had gone through. Rory felt her heart surge with love and sadness, knowing they were the same emotions that Junior was feeling.
Fermina stood silently beside Rory.
Tom came into the room. He noticed how much Junior’s condition had deteriorated. He worried about what that meant for Rory.
Rory shook her head when Tom handed her a set of protective garments. The paper and latex could do nothing to shield her. She lowered the bed rail and hoisted herself onto Junior’s bed.
Tom made a movement to go to her, but Fermina pressed her fingertips against his hand. He hesitated a moment before leaving the room.
On the bed, Rory curled beside Junior, taking his shrunken body into her arms. She kissed his forehead and around his gaping mouth. She held his atrophied hand, frozen around the rubber bar. He turned his head as far as he could to see her. She shoved a pillow under her head so she could look into his eyes.
Soon their breathing matched, Junior inhaling as Rory exhaled.
Sylvia burst into the room. “Mom—”
Fermina shot her a glance, silencing her. Sylvia took in the scene. She pulled her mask over her nose and returned to the easy chair, tucking her feet under her.
Keith carried more chairs into the room and left without a word.
After several minutes, Tom returned and sat. His face was grave. He was barely able to watch Rory. He didn’t think he could stand it, but he knew he couldn’t leave. There was no other place for him to be.
Fermina returned to a chair beside Junior’s bed, where she had spent most of the past few days. She draped her rosary around her hands. Her lips moved as she silently prayed.
Rory whispered to Junior, “Th
ank you for letting me see the world through your eyes. It was wonderful.”
They remained like that, the five of them, waiting.
64
The lights were on in Richard’s office in the villa.
“More bourbon, Leland?” Richard swung the decanter, sending the liquid up the sides. “The sort of night that bourbon was made for.”
“I unfortunately must agree.” The attorney was in his usual chair in Richard’s office, his fingers laced over one bony knee of his crossed legs.
Richard refilled Leland’s glass and then his own. The men raised their glasses silently, no one offering a toast.
Richard again sat at his desk and crossed his feet on top. He sipped the bourbon. “I’ll try Evelyn’s cell phone again.” He put his feet on the floor and made the call on his landline. After a minute, he hung up. “No answer. Pointless to leave another message. Hope she’s okay.”
“I’ll try Tom’s cell again.” Leland took out his phone and made a call. “Goes straight to voice mail, just like Rory’s.”
Richard stood and began pacing the room, taking his drink along. “Maybe we should drive down to the Killingsworth Building.”
“I’ll go down there.” Leland stood. “You should keep your distance from that place.”
The doorbell rang with Big Ben chimes.
Richard raised his eyebrows. “Don’t ask for whom the bell tolls…”
The men silently waited. Before long, Rosario knocked on the open office door. “Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Richard, but Detectives Auburn and Rodriguez are here.”
The two detectives appeared behind her.
“So they are. Thank you, Rosario. You can leave.”
The detectives came in. Auburn said, “Richard Tate, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Junior Lara and as an accessory to the murder of Anya Langtry.”
Leland said, “I want to see your evidence against Mr. Tate.”
“You will,” Auburn said. “The attempt charge will be bumped up to murder when Junior dies. There will be other charges too, but that’ll do for now.”
Richard held up his drink and looked at the last swallow in the glass before he drank it down.
Rodriguez handcuffed him as Auburn read him his rights.
65
Night ceded to dawn. Sunshine filtered through the miniblinds, painting stripes across Junior and Rory. Fermina and Sylvia were crammed together in Mr. Patyk’s former bed, which they’d made up to sleep on. Tom was asleep in the easy chair. Rory was asleep beside Junior, her head in the crook of his shoulder.
She started, as if awakened by a bad dream. She rose onto her elbows. Junior was awake, his eyes wide and staring. “I’m here, Junior. I’m with you.”
The activity roused Fermina, Sylvia, and Tom. They got to their feet and circled Junior’s bed. Rory held his face between her hands.
His eyes dully stared, without focus.
A monitor started loudly beeping.
Tom’s heart raced.
Corliss, the day nurse, ran into the room, putting a stethoscope into her ears. “Make room,” she said to Rory. She started to cross to the bed, but Fermina put out her hand, stopping her.
Corliss pulled the stethoscope away from her ears and let it dangle from her neck. “You’re sure?” She looked from Fermina to Sylvia.
Fermina barely moved her head when she nodded.
Sylvia’s voice caught in her throat. “We’re sure.”
Corliss slid her arm around Sylvia’s waist. A tear slipped down the nurse’s cheek.
Sylvia held her hand toward Tom. He took it.
Fermina went to the bed, put one hand over Junior’s hand, and held her daughter’s hand with her other.
Junior’s heartbeat became more erratic.
Rory again clasped Junior’s face between her hands. She tried to meet his weak gaze, to connect with him one final time. She murmured, “Junior, it was perfect and I loved you. I never believed you would kill my sister and shoot yourself, but now everyone will know. I still love you, but now you must let me go.”
His eyes briefly focused, using the last of his strength with the effort. The line on the monitor went flat. The light faded from his eyes. Rory crumpled against his chest.
Fermina looked up, her face filled with wonder.
“Rory!” Tom bolted to the bed and lifted her limp body into his arms. He laid her on the empty bed.
Corliss used a stethoscope to search for Junior’s heartbeat.
Sylvia began to cry.
Corliss moved away from Junior, her face grave, and turned her attention to Rory, listening to her chest. “She’s just fainted.” She lightly slapped Rory’s cheeks. “Come on, hon. Wake up.”
Rory opened her eyes. “Is it over?”
“Is it?” Tom asked.
She closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened them. “It’s over.”
Somber but dry-eyed, Fermina pressed Junior’s eyelids closed.
66
Richie paced the carpet in his father’s downtown office. “A million bucks for bail?”
“Leland expected at least that much.” Richard sat at his desk and watched his son.
Richie shook his head at the floor as he kept pacing.
“Don’t be so glum, chum. It’s going to be all right.”
Richie stopped and faced his father. “Just tell me one thing, Dad. How long had you been porking Anya?”
“So, that’s what’s eating you.”
“If you were screwing Anya, it would explain some of the strange things that happened around the villa after she came to live with us.”
“Richie, I was Anya’s stepfather. I didn’t have sexual relations with her until she was an adult.”
“That’s not what I read on the Internet. What am I supposed to tell my kids? Last night Beatrice asked me, ‘Daddy, what’s a pedophile?’ ”
“Richie, these are baseless accusations. The only evidence the police have is a confession from a suicidal woman to her mentally deranged daughter.”
“And Evelyn’s urgent text message to you from Anya’s hotline the night she was murdered.”
Richard waved his hand, dismissing it. He didn’t say anything to his son, but he was concerned about the testimony from his housekeepers, Rosario and Hector. The night of the shootings, after he and a shaken Evelyn had arrived home, Rosario and Hector had gotten up to see what had happened. They saw the slashed portrait of Boo and blood on Evelyn’s clothes and face. After the portrait had been repaired, he’d told Rosario and Hector that they were the only ones in the house allowed to handle it. He’d done that because the slash marks were still visible from the back.
“Richie, this thing probably won’t even go to trial. Before long, some public figure somewhere will do something stupid and people will forget about the Tates. We’re as dull as dirt, when it comes down to it.”
“I don’t know about being as dull but we’re just as filthy.”
67
Tom woke up late. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was or the day of the week. Then he remembered. He and Rory were at her condo. It was Monday and he’d taken the day off. It was six months after Evelyn’s suicide and Richard’s arrest.
Rory wasn’t in bed. He smelled fresh coffee, got up, and went to the kitchen. As he was filling a mug, he heard Rory talking outside on the side balcony, the one from which she had the best view of her ocean “peek.” He went there and found her on her cell phone, seated at a small patio table.
“For our Mother’s Day special, I’d like the half-ounce Anya cologne, the three-ounce Anya soap, and instead of the talc, which no one uses anymore, how about a key ring with the Anya heart in pink crystal?” Rory guiltily shrugged when Tom made a disapproving face at her. “Great, Lee. Thanks. Okay, bye.” She ended the call.
Tom leaned over and kissed her on the lips. When he’d finished, she put her hands around his neck and pulled him down again.
“Good morning,” he said.
“It’s a much better morning now.” She began gathering up her business papers from the table.
He helped. The diamond in her engagement ring reflected the sun like a prism, casting tiny rainbows. It was the only ring she was wearing, having returned Junior’s engagement ring to his mother. “We’re taking a vacation day today, remember?”
“I remember.” She turned off the power on her cell phone. “I can unplug. See?”
Tom swooped down, cradled Rory’s face in his hands, and kissed her. “I love you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You don’t have to worry about what you’d do without me, ’cause I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Consider that the next time you get ticked off at me.”
“I could never get angry at you.”
She gave him a dubious look and followed with a grin. “By the way, Dr. Wynstock called first thing this morning with the results of my last set of tests. I’ve completely recovered. She did talk to me about plastic surgery for the scars left by those sores on my back, but I can’t bear the thought of surgery right now, or maybe ever.”
“Leave them alone.”
“But then I won’t be fashion-plate perfect Rory Langtry.”
“Well, then forget it. The wedding’s off.”
She smiled at him. “I was just thinking about our wedding.”
“What? Calling it off?”
“No, of course not. But following through on our threats to go to Vegas or doing something low-key. How about this? Get married in the courthouse downtown and take a small group of friends and family out to dinner.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Done. Let’s pick a date this week.”
“Done.”
After a pause, Rory looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Tom, I’ll have those scars on my back removed if they remind you of Junior.”
“The scars will fade in time.”
She looked at the horizon. “We can only hope.” For some reason she thought of Junior’s mother, Fermina, and a conversation she’d had with her at Junior’s funeral. Fermina had spoken of her unflagging faith in Junior’s innocence and that he would be exonerated. It was simple and perfect. Everything was, Rory thought, when you have the guts just to let the crap fly and not worry about things that don’t matter.