“Move, Tom,” Hunter says through his teeth. “Or else I swear to you, Brooke dies here and now.”
Jamie lowers his eyes and reluctantly shuffles out of the way. His shoulders are sagging and he seems completely defeated. It scares the hell out of me. It occurs to me he already saw this happen once before and he was unable to stop it. And now he can barely walk on top of everything. He has no chance of stopping Hunter. Zero chance.
But maybe I do.
No, I can’t save myself. I accept Hunter will probably kill me tonight. But at least I can save Mr. Teitelman. I can make it so all those little grandkids won’t have to say goodbye to their grandfather yet. It can be my last good deed.
Hunter pulls the knife away from my throat and puts it to my back. “Open the door for him,” he instructs me. “Tell him to come in. One wrong word and I will stab you. Got it?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He marches me over to the door with the blade of the knife poking me in my spine. It’s still unlocked, so I turn the knob to open it up. I find Mr. Teitelman standing there, his bushy white eyebrows bunched together. He’s wearing a fuzzy gray housecoat and a pair of slippers.
“Brooky,” he says. “Everything okay? It’s so loud up here!”
Don’t be afraid, Brooke. Save the old man.
“Mr. Teitelman,” I say in a slow, even voice, “you have to get out of here. Right now.”
As promised, I feel the blade digging into my back. And even as the white hot pain cuts through me, Mr. Teitelman says, “Eh? Who’s that behind you, Brooky?”
Oh God, he can’t hear me warning him. He’s going to die because he doesn’t know I’m telling him he’s in danger. I take a deep breath, fighting against the increasingly sharp pain in my back. “Run!” I scream as loudly as I can.
I brace myself for the blade to enter my body. I expect white-hot pain shooting through me. But instead, the pressure on my back eases up. Hunter is no longer behind me.
I whirl around to see Jamie had grabbed Hunter from behind the second he stabbed me. He successfully managed to throw him off me, but Hunter has recovered quickly. He pins Jamie against the wall, his elbow at Jamie’s throat, the knife pointed at his gut. Jamie gasps for air, but I don’t see any regret on his face.
“Don’t think I won’t kill you, brother,” Hunter spits at him.
Jamie’s looks me straight in the eyes, even as he struggles fruitlessly against Hunter’s grip. It’s been too long since he’s had fresh blood—he doesn’t have Hunter’s strength. He gave that up for the greater good. “Run, Brooke!” he manages.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave Jamie. I can’t leave him. But at the same time, he sacrificed himself so that I’d be able to escape. This is my only chance to get myself and Mr. Teitelman to safety. If I hesitate even another second, Jamie could be dead and then it will be too late. It’s not like I could fight Hunter.
I have to make a decision. I can’t save Jamie’s life. I should save myself and Mr. Teitelman.
I back away, preparing to grab my neighbor and run. I hate myself, but this is what I have to do. It’s what Jamie wants me to do. Except before I’ve even gotten out the door, I hear a loud thump.
Hunter’s body. Dropping lifelessly to the ground. Like a sack of flour.
I look down at the man who was threatening my life only minutes ago, who is now lying on the wooden floor, his eyes shut. I look back up at Jamie, who seems as stunned as I am.
Then I turn to Mr. Teitelman, who is holding a gun in his hand, aimed at the spot where Hunter had been standing.
“You…” I manage. My head is spinning. “You shot him.”
“Don’t worry.” Mr. Teitelman lowers the gun and puts it back in the pocket of his fuzzy bathrobe. “He’s not dead—just unconscious. We’ve got about an hour before he wakes up again. That’s how long the tranquilizer usually knocks them out for.”
Jamie bends down to pick up his cane, which got toppled in the scuffle. He stares into Hunter’s face in amazement.
Mr. Teitelman digs around in the other pocket of his housecoat and pulls out a pair of shiny handcuffs. He tosses them on the floor. “While you’re down there, Tom,” he says, “why don’t you snap these on him? They’re made of a titanium alloy so he won’t get out of them so easily.”
Jamie stares at the handcuffs, then back up at Mr. Teitelman. “You called me Tom,” he says.
Mr. Teitelman shrugs. “That’s your name isn’t it? That’s what Meg named you when were born, am I right?”
Jamie’s eyes widen. “You… you knew my mother?”
“Yes, I knew your mother.” Mr. Teitelman’s wrinkled lips broaden into a smile. “I knew her well. In the Biblical sense, if you know what I mean.”
Oh my God, what is Mr. Teitelman saying? Jamie just shakes his head. “Wh-what?” he says.
“Tom,” Mr. Teitelman says, “I’m your father. I’m Stephen.”
Chapter 36: Brooke
Jamie manages to get the cuffs on his brother, although he’s too shell-shocked to do much else. Mr. Teitelman steps into my bedroom to make some calls, leaving the two of us alone. Jamie keeps staring at his feet, shaking his head like he can’t wrap his head around any of this. I don’t blame him.
Mr. Teitelman comes out of the bedroom, walking with broad strides that are nothing like the shuffling gait of his that I’ve grown accustomed to. He looks younger too, although I’d still place his age to be at least seventy. Although like my mother says, seventy is the new sixty.
“The agents will be by to pick Charles up in the next fifteen minutes,” Mr. Teitelman tells us.
“He’ll just escape,” Jamie mutters. “He always does.”
“Not from these guys, he won’t. They know exactly what to expect.”
Jamie looks my downstairs neighbor up and down, sizing him up. “You can’t be my father,” he finally says. “It’s not possible.”
Mr. Teitelman smiles. “Why not?”
“You’re too old.”
Mr. Teitelman throws back his head and laughs. I can see fillings. “I let myself start to age normally about forty years ago,” he says. “That was when I met Beverly.”
“You mean Beverly is real?” I ask. I don’t want to interrupt any father/son reunion moments, but I’ve got tons of questions of my own.
“Of course she’s real!” Mr. Teitelman snorts. “You think that houseful of grandchildren were all actors for your benefit? Beverly and I were together for forty years—the best years of my life. And I’ve had a very, very long life.”
“But you’re…” Jamie’s eyes are still full of suspicion. It’s clear he’s not ready to welcome his father with open arms. “My father—Stephen—he was a murderer. My mother told me so. She said he tried to kill her.”
Mr. Teitelman drops his head. “Yes. I did that. Meg… she was a beautiful woman, but all I could think about when I was with her was how her blood would taste. That was how I was back then.”
It’s surreal to hear my elderly neighbor describing a woman that way. It was bad enough when he was talking about titties. It’s clear that he means it though.
“I was a murderer, Tom,” Mr. Teitelman says. “Just like Charles. And my other sons. And my brothers. And my own father. But…” He closes his eyes for a moment. “Beverly changed all that for me. When I met her, I knew that I couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted a life with her. For the first time, I realized what a monster I’d been. And I vowed to change. To make amends for all the harm I did over the years.”
Jamie raises his eyebrows. “Amends? How do you make amends for murdering a bunch of people?”
“I work helping the FBI to catch other people like… like us,” he says. “I can sense their presence and then help to apprehend them. I’ve been doing undercover work for forty years now. The agents know about their special abilities and we’ve adapted to improve our efficiency. They’ll keep Charles in a location where he won’t escape the way he has when the traditional justice s
ystem got him in their clutches.”
Jamie is still giving Mr. Teitelman a skeptical look. I don’t blame him. Jamie told me that his father was a coldblooded murder that he was scared to ever meet. Now he’s in the room with us. There’s no reason to think he isn’t just as dangerous as Hunter.
Jamie frowns. “So why were you living in this building? That wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”
“No,” Mr. Teitelman admits. “I moved here to apprehend you, Tom.”
Jamie’s eyes widen. He grips his cane and takes a step back. “Me? But I… I don’t… I mean, not in years…”
“I know,” Mr. Teitelman says. “I know that now, but I didn’t know when I found you. I have seventeen children and sixteen of them are sociopaths. There was no reason for me to believe you’d be any different. But… after six months of living here and following you around, I knew you were not like the others. I knew you were a good man.”
“Why didn’t you say something to me?” Jamie murmurs.
Mr. Teitelman shakes his head. “I wanted to. But then I sensed Charles’s presence and I couldn’t risk blowing my cover before he was apprehended. But…” He reaches as if to touch Jamie’s shoulder, but pulls away at the last second. “It made me happy to see you, Tom. Beverly and I… we knew we couldn’t have children together because they would turn out like me, so we adopted four orphans who we loved as much as any biological child. My children and my grandchildren are my life. But, Tom, you’re my flesh and blood. I wanted to get to know you. As much as I wanted to grow old with Beverly.”
Jamie is just staring at him. I feel his internal struggle. He’s always longed to meet his real father. But the man is a murderer.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I… I’m not sure what to think.”
“I understand,” Mr. Teitelman says, although I can see he’s disappointed that Jamie isn’t racing into his open arms. “Take your time. It’s… a lot. I know that.”
Mr. Teitelman moves past him to check on Hunter. I see Jamie watching his father. I wonder if he’ll ever forgive him. I don’t know if I could.
“Hey,” Jamie says.
Mr. Teitelman looks up, his eyes full of hope. “Yes?”
“You said you let yourself age normally.” Jamie’s brow furrows. “How do you do that?”
He grins. “I’ll tell you, but you won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
Mr. Teitelman shrugs. “You go vegetarian. No blood and no meat from any animals whatsoever. No steak, no hamburger, no pork, no chicken—nothing. Not even a hot dog.”
Jamie’s face pales. “Oh… that sounds…”
“Horrible.” He winks at Jamie. “When I first gave up all meat, I thought I’d crack after a day or two. I’d make it a couple of months, then go on a binge where I’d eat nothing but pig’s blood and raw steak for a week straight.”
“Yeah,” Jamie breathes. “I can’t even imagine it.”
“I used to feel the same way. But sometimes…” Mr. Teitelman gives me a meaningful look. “Sometimes it’s worth it.”
Chapter 37: Brooke
One Month Later
My brain feels fried as I unlock my door after an exhausting lunch with Gabby. She recently met some new guy at her gym that she’s crushing on like a crazy woman. I swear that girl joins gyms with the sole purpose of meeting men. She definitely doesn’t go to the gym to exercise, that’s for damn sure.
“He looks so sexy when he comes off the elliptical,” Gabby sighed. “He’s all hot and sweaty.”
“Do you do the elliptical next to him?” I asked her.
“No!” Gabby looked aghast. “I don’t want him to see me all hot and sweaty!”
God forbid.
The good news is that she’s over Jamie. She cried about him for a week, then she moved on. That’s Gabby’s typical MO.
I’m not nearly as good at moving on.
I haven’t seen Jamie once since the night his father shot his brother in my apartment. He’s still in shock, I think, and I can’t blame him. I’ve texted him to ask if we could talk and he never responds. I’ve thought about forcing the issue by going to his apartment, but I figure he needs his space right now.
I spoke to Mr. Teitelman about the whole thing. He keeps me in the loop about Charles, because he knows how shaken I am by what happened. I’m never sure what to make of Mr. Teitelman. Yes, I know the history Jamie told me. But he also saved our lives. He’s saved countless lives in the last forty years. So while I’m wary of him, we still talk.
Jamie, on the other hand, won’t have anything to do with him, saying he can’t forgive him for the life he used to lead.
“If you see him, will you put in a good word for me, Brooky?” he asked. “I just… I want to get to know my son.”
I’m pouring myself a glass of juice when I hear my doorbell ring. I put down the orange-colored container, trying to ignore that twinge of anxiety in my stomach I always get when I have an unexpected visitor these days. I’m nearly shaking when I check the peephole.
It’s Jamie!
I throw open the door for him, relieved he finally came around. I knew he would. He just needed time.
“Hey,” he says.
God, he looks cute. He’s not wearing his contacts or his glasses and his eyes look very dark. And sexy. I wonder if he’ll let his hair grow in as its natural color. Maybe he won’t hate the way he looks anymore now that his brother is in jail for good.
“Hey yourself.” I can’t suppress a smile. “What’s up?”
“I just…” He adjusts his grip on his cane. “I came by to tell you goodbye.”
I stare at him. It’s the last thing I expected to hear. “Goodbye?”
“Yeah, I…” He shrugs. “Given everything that happened, I think it’s better I moved on. I’m leaving in a few days.”
“Where are you going?”
He shrugs again. “I’m not sure. I was thinking maybe Australia—I’ve never been there before. And then… I don’t know. Maybe somewhere I don’t speak the language, for a change. Maybe Tokyo.”
“But…” I squeeze my fists together. “You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”
“It’s better this way,” he says. “Really. I’m used to it. You can’t stay in one place very long when you don’t age.”
“But what about us?” I blurt out.
“Us?” He looks confused. “Brooke, what are you talking about? We kissed a couple of times, but… well, I realize that doesn’t mean…”
“You told me you were in love with me.” I know there’s an accusing edge in my voice, but I can’t help myself. I can’t believe he’s just leaving! Without so much as a goodbye!
Oh wait, he did say goodbye. That’s what got me so upset in the first place.
“I am in love with you, okay?” His cheeks redden. “You have no idea how much I want to be with you. But let’s be realistic. You know everything now. You know my whole history—all the things I’ve done. You don’t really want…”
“Why don’t you let me decide what I want?”
We stare at each other. His brow is scrunched together as he peers at me with those dark eyes. Jamie has been my friend for three years. He saved my life twice. And I think I’m in love with him.
I definitely don’t want him to leave.
“Please stay, Jamie,” I beg him.
He’s shaking his head. “Brooke…”
“Then let me come with you,” I say. “I’ve never been to Australia either…”
He shrugs. “It’s just a place.”
“Doesn’t water flow the opposite direction down the drain down there?”
“No, that’s a myth.”
“Well.” I lift my chin. “I’d like to see it for myself. To verify. Also, I’d like to see a kangaroo. Don’t they have those down there?”
“So I’ve heard.” He smiles at me. “And crocodiles.”
“They have crocodiles in Florida,” I say. “I want to see a… din
go.”
“Dingos are dangerous,” he says. “Just because they have a funny name, it doesn’t mean they’re not scary animals. They eat babies.”
“So?” I shrug. “You’ll protect me, right?”
Jamie squints at me. “You really want to come to Australia with me?”
“Actually,” I say, “What I’d really like is to stay here. With you.”
He just looks at me thoughtfully, his dark eyes studying my face. For a moment, I’m certain he’s going to tell me to forget it, that he’s leaving without me. It wouldn’t surprise me. He claimed he loves me, but he’s always been a loner. As much as it would pain me to never see him again, I understand that.
Jamie finally breaks the silence: “I’d give it up for you,” he says.
I frown at him. “Give what up?”
“Meat.” His cheeks color. “I’d give it up for you, Brooke. I would. If that’s what you wanted.”
My shoulders relax. “Would you?”
“Not now,” he adds quickly, “but… someday. I think… yes, I would.”
He reaches out to take my hand. I feel his palm, cool in mine, and I can’t help myself. I lean toward him, lift my face, and press my lips against his. After a moment of surprise, he kisses me back, letting go of his cane to pull me close to him. God, he kisses good.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” I promise him.
Epilogue: Brooke
Two Years Later
“Eat it.”
“I’m not eating that. You eat it.”
“I made it for you. If you love me, you’ll at least try it.”
“If you love me, you won’t make me try it.”
Jamie is staring down at the plate of couscous I prepared for him for dinner tonight. It’s the latest offering courtesy of the vegetarian cooking class that I started taking a year ago. None of my dishes have been met with enthusiasm, but some are met with more hostility than others. Jamie is not a fan of the couscous, it turns out.
He nudges a chunk of something white with his fork. “What’s this thing?”
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