by Dan Glover
"I appreciate that, Nell... really I do. But I want to make a few stops along the way... just to say hello to my family and my friends."
"Well... if you change your mind, I'll be around for a while yet. Just let me know."
"Thank you, Nell... for everything."
Friends and family... that was a hoot. The only person who'd visited him during his week-long stay at the hospital had been Hank Lupo, and he had an ulterior motive. No, he'd pretty much alienated everyone who ever cared about him. Had it been purposely? Probably. Not that things like that mattered any longer.
Should he have notified mother? Probably... but the woman worried enough about him as it was, and besides, she had her job to think about. No sense getting her fired too. And by the time he'd come around enough to even think about calling her, he was ready to be discharged. So there it was.
Even when he was around other people—especially when he was around other people, he was alone. As a child he kept to himself. Kindergarten wasn’t so bad—it seemed as if they mostly just took naps—but entering first grade was as traumatic an event as he ever had. He still remembered standing all alone looking out at a sea of children happily frolicking on the playground while he stood alone in the shelter of a brick corner wondering what was wrong with him that he couldn’t fit in like everyone else and whether or not they had bathrooms at school. He'd been so shy he couldn’t bring himself to ask and so he simply peed his pants, which of course only served to further alienate him from his schoolmates.
At first he rationalized his isolation as a product of his sexual predilection but as time went on he came to see it as more a part of his nature. He simply didn’t like people all that much, at least not enough to make any concerted effort to get to know them. He'd read all the books on influencing people and making friends—he knew all the rules—but knowing how to increase his sphere of acquaintances only caused him to grimace inwardly and to wonder why.
Liza and Danners were no different. Oh sure, he told himself they liked him but they hadn’t even visited him in the hospital. Did they care so little that they couldn’t take an hour out of their busy schedule just to see how he was doing? Hank Lupo was busy too but he came by.
"I'm sorry, Danners, but this thing we have... it isn’t going anywhere. I think it's better we see other people."
He tried to let Danners down easy... he didn’t come right out and tell him how he was embarrassed to be seen in public with him. Why had he even cultivated the relationship in the first place? Loneliness, perhaps... or simply wanting to have a friend. Danners took it hard. But wasn’t it better to nip it in the bud rather than allow the man to believe what they had would blossom into a true love affair?
"I'll be okay, Reilly."
"Look, if you ever need to talk, call me, Danners."
It wasn’t fair, the way the world was made. Men belonged with women, not with other men, or so he'd been told his entire life. These feelings he had... they must be anomalies. If only he'd open his heart he'd be able to cultivate a real relationship. He'd be a man.
Chapter 86—Love
(Or Something Like It)
1
He'd spent the night again. It was late by the time they pulled in after the trip to Kansas and he was thankful Liza asked him to stay over. Being alone held no appeal for him, at least not at the present.
Liza was still asleep. He wondered for a moment if instead she'd spiked up but decided it didn’t matter. Liza never judged him on his many and sordid faults. Perhaps that's why they'd been together for all those years and counting. Thinking back, Danners couldn’t remember any relationship in his life lasting as long. Of course theirs was what people might call a platonic love affair yet all for except the lack of the sex act, it was anything but.
He couldn’t get the feel of her skin against his out of his mind... the way she pressed her full breasts into his back and rubbing against him until he could feel her nipples grow erect and firm. He'd wanted to turn around, to take her in his arms, and to make mad love to her... yet something stopped him. Would she reject him? Probably not... and that was part of the reticence he felt. Did he really want to take their relationship to that level? What if things didn’t work out? What if he couldn’t....?
He wasn’t as virile as he once was yet he'd never been what anyone would call a stud. His sex drive had one setting... low. He sensed Liza was far different. He'd only end up disappointing her, and that had happened enough in her life.
"I don’t understand why a girl like you isn’t married, Liza."
"Is that your way of proposing, lover?"
"Maybe... "
"I never had time for a husband, I guess. That and all the men I knew were already married. Plus I figured my previous incarnation as a call girl wouldn’t endear me to any prospective spouses."
"But you must have had plenty of men chasing after you, Liza... I mean, as pretty as you are."
"Thanks, DanDan... sure I did. One in particular. But I didn’t want to go there."
"Hank Lupo."
"Hey, you're pretty good, big boy. Did anyone ever tell you that you ought to try out for psychic of the year?"
"So you and Hank... did you ever... you know..."
"Never... not from his lack of trying, though. No, by that time I could spot a horn dog a mile off. Hank had all the attributes of my johns... suave, a great liar, and a pretty face. I wanted nothing to do with him... or with any man for that matter. I decided if I couldn’t beat them, I'd join them. I became one of the boys. Cut my hair, wore a flack jacket, and even learned how to effect their swagger."
"Impressive, girlfriend... so what happened?"
"A teenager with a gun happened. High on PCP or something... I don’t know. The kid had a shotgun and my partner was a cowboy. Thought he could talk him out of it. I should've let the kid have it right off, but..."
"You waited... anyone would have done the same thing, Liza."
"No... Hank Lupo wouldn’t have... he'd have put that little asshole down. Anyway... the next thing I knew my partner was missing his head and that shotgun was swinging my way. I don’t even remember shooting. When I came to my senses, two people were dead and I was being hailed as a hero."
"Don't the police call that a good shoot, Liza?"
"Sure they do. Hank saw to it that I got put on paid leave. When the questions began about whether I'd shot the right guy or not, Hank had my back. A witness claimed that a different man had been the culprit... that the man I shot had nothing to do with the crime... an innocent bystander who simply got in the line of fire."
"But the shotgun..."
"Somehow it disappeared... that was the crazy part. The damned thing grew legs and vanished. Either that or the real perp walked away with it. Hank happened to have a replacement in the trunk of his car. He was the first responding officer on the scene."
"So you're saying he planted evidence?"
"I was just a kid, Danners. I looked up to Hank for guidance. He was older. Christ... he'd been in the military. He knew what to do and he took charge. He never said a word... simply looked over the scene, walked to his car, and produced a shotgun which he put in the perp's hands. Pulled the trigger once... shot in the air. Turned out the kid I shot was a college student. Never had so much as a parking ticket. I might've gunned down the wrong guy. Hank saved my ass, Danners. They could've brought me up on charges."
"No... he implicated you in a cover up, Liza."
"Maybe... either way, I was done. I wasn’t cut out to be a cop. I quit the department."
Now, watching her sleep, Danners wondered what had happened to that pretty young idealistic girl... if she was still inside Liza, or if she'd been frightened away for good. He supposed everyone carried demons around with them—the Lord knew he had his share—but Liza's seemed particularly onerous and demented.
Perhaps now that they were back in Los Angeles and could put this case to bed he might go to a jeweler and look for a ring... see if he couldn’t per
suade Liza to make a try at love. What did he have to lose?
2
He was dreaming again. They were back in Kansas talking to Marcy and he thought how hard it was for him to listen to what the dying woman had to say, not because of the pinched and pained expression upon her face, though that had something to do with it. No... it was difficult to imagine anyone in the world was capable of the evil that'd been perpetrated on innocent people... children, like the Picany twins, and countless others like them who'd seemingly vanished without a trace.
"Hank Lupo had a hand in setting everything up from the beginning, Liza... I knew about it but I kept quiet. God help me... I owed him. Hank saved my life. Maybe that's why I'm going through this same sickness all again... divine retribution... I don’t know. Anyway. It all started when Hank was in the military. The Captain he served under was in charge of the medical dispensary. Guess who the chief resident there was?"
"Oscar Olay."
"You knew, Liza?"
"No, Marcy... you said to guess so I did. Am I right?"
"Yes... Oscar Olay joined the Navy to further his medical career. He liked to play surgeon but it took him a while to pass the exams to become board-certified. So Hank and the Captain helped him out by scheduling clandestine operations at the base hospital during down hours. They were grabbing illegal immigrants off the street and stealing their organs. Big business.
"A few years go by. Olay buys a mansion in Malibu Hills. Meets his neighbor, Allen Picany. The two of them strike up a friendship. Come to find out they both know Hank Lupo. By now their little operation has become quite the enterprise. Hank and Olay decide to bring Picany in on it, what with him knowing the people he does and having access to medical records through the business he started... digitalizing physician records all over the state of California.
"Now they have a perfect way to find specific donors to suit the needs of their client base... wealthy people who need organ transplants and who will probably die before any come available through legal channels. People disappear every day, Liza. The only folk who worry about it are the families, and sometimes not even them.
"So the money starts rolling in. Two hundred thousand for a kidney. Five hundred thousand for a heart. Olay does all the surgeries with a hand selected staff that includes the same people who snatch the victims off the streets. Their success rate is phenomenal what with the young healthy donors and the fact that they are transplanting live organs... not ones that have come from cadavers.
"But then Picany grows a conscience. Perhaps he has a premonition of what's to come... or maybe he finds out who's fucking his wife... who knows. He wants out. He sells his stake in the business to Olay. Later he ends up going broke but it doesn’t matter. At least he can sleep at night again. At least until the twins vanish."
"But Picany must know what happened to them..."
"He knows and yet he doesn’t. Maybe he can't handle knowing how he helped to orchestrate the whole industry by providing critical data to Lupo and Olay. But it wasn’t just Allen Picany involved... his wife was right there alongside him. In fact she was against pulling out. It was only when Allen discovered who she was sleeping with that she claimed he wanted to get out."
Marcy closed her eyes and went silent. Liza shrugged her shoulders at him when he gave her a glance with one raised eyebrow that said, now what? As she reached over and took his hand in hers Danners could feel her trembling. He wondered if she was Jonesing... if her early morning fix was wearing off, but then a single tear rolled down her cheek and he felt like the ass that he was. He leaned over to whisper in her ear as not to disturb the dying woman lying beside them.
"Let's get out of here for a few minutes, lover. Stretch our legs... maybe go outside for a breath of air."
Liza stood up and without a word listlessly allowed him to take her hand and lead her down the corridor and to the elevator. She seemed like a little girl who'd just discovered there was no Santa Claus. Why did the world have to be so hard?
When he woke he felt a body soft and supple next to his and though he thought about going back to sleep to finish the dream or perhaps rising to fix breakfast instead he quietly soaked up the pleasure of having Liza by his side. She'd wake soon enough.
Chapter 87—Island
(In a Dream)
She didn’t need that much money. Taking it had been more a way of getting back at Hank for all the bullshit he'd put her through over the years... the lying and the cover-ups. But she had no use for ten million dollars. Maybe Allen Picany could take part of it and make a new life for himself and the twins... perhaps they could go somewhere no one knew them and start over.
In truth, though, it was a way to alleviate a small part of the guilt she carried. Would it ever go away? No. She'd done horrible things in her life and now she'd have to live with that knowledge. There were good reasons, but she was sure other mass murderers had the same excuses. Ted Bundy was probably one of the nicest guys you'd ever want to meet.
That journal she discovered at Johm's... that was the key. It spelled out everything. Dammit. She should've made a copy before giving it to Paula. Had the police found it? Unlikely... otherwise Hank would've been arrested by now.
Did he suspect that she knew what was going on? Probably not... he was too busy building his own little empire to notice how she was always creeping around the edges. She was like wallpaper, there and yet unseen. Besides, the man was used to being in control. If he thought for an instant that his wife had not only learned of his sordid secrets but participated in them covertly, he'd go ape shit.
She'd been on the island for a week but it already seemed like home. Hank had nearly exploded her phone during the first few hours she was gone so she smashed it and bought a new one. Let him try and call her now. And Reilly Cooper? That little twerp should know better than to try and find her... otherwise the next batch of brownies she made would be laced with cyanide.
She just wanted a little house close to the ocean with a garden in back where she could sit and watch the sun sink into the sea. The kids were fine on their own. They didn’t need her... hell, they never needed her, not since they learned to wipe their own asses, anyway. She was more of a nuisance in their lives than a mother and grandmother and she knew it. And Hank... he wouldn’t have much trouble finding another woman. He never had. And as far as finding herself a man... no thank you... nope... she was done with that nonsense.
Now if they'd just leave her alone. She thought of inviting Allen to come live with her in paradise but that was taking too much of a chance. What if he turned on her like everyone else? No... let the man find his own little plot somewhere. Two million dollars ought to buy at least a small slice of happiness.
Every man Sally saw reminded her of Hank. It was strange. For the last ten years all she could think of was getting away from the man but now she actually missed him. You didn’t stay married to someone for over thirty years without feeling something for them... even women in abusive relationships formed long-lasting bonds with their spouses.
She needed something to do to get her mind off the past. No one knew her here. She could start all over again... she could be the person she always saw herself being: magnanimous, giving, and kind. But then there were the ghosts...
Paula Picany tormented her dreams. Each night Sally watched as the knife sank into the woman's belly, mesmerized by the intestines spilling out onto the floor stinking of blood and shit, and though every fiber in her being screamed for her to run, her feet seemed to be sunk into concrete as the knife slowly turned and headed her way.
Sometimes the doctor and the photographer were with Paula, the three of them standing together with such harsh looks upon their faces that Sally tried to turn away. Only she couldn’t. She lay paralyzed as the ghosts watched her, waiting. But for what? Was it her turn soon? Did the departed have some sort of special knowledge of those things?
It didn’t seem fair. All her life she'd given her energy, her sweat, and even her blood over
to the care of others... now she told herself it was her turn. Yet happiness eluded her. Instead, she grew more depressed by the day. She yearned to speak to the children but she was afraid if they knew where she was, they'd tell their father. He'd always been such an important part of their lives that she was sure they'd help him if they could. All he need do was ask.
The thought of Liza McNairy and Danners Forthright finding her consumed most of her waking life. She felt certain Hank went to them as soon as he discovered she'd left him and taken all his money. And what of Reilly Cooper? Had he made a recovery? If so, he had a real reason to help track her down. Was she just fooling herself thinking she could hide out on a tropical island half way around the world?
"If money was no object, Sally, what would you do?"
She'd attended a retreat a few years back after their youngest daughter married and moved away... one of those girls-only getaways where they all shed their clothes along with their inhibitions and told one another of their dreams as well as their nightmares. The question caught her unawares. She'd never thought of herself as someone separate and apart from the family she raised. Yet now, she was.
"I don’t know how to answer that question, Lorraine."
Lorraine Plummer was the person in charge. A strikingly ugly woman who reminded Sally of a man the way she took total control, she had both a gentle demeanor and a raging passion to instill inspiration into the others at the retreat. One by one, Lorraine called the women up onto the stage and asked them that same question. And one by one each woman answered with inane remarks like travel the world, be a housewife, and cultivate time with my family.
Sally had no answer. She didn’t want to travel. She was tired of playing housekeeper. The family had slowly dwindled down to her and Hank and she wasn’t sure about him. And the longer she thought about it, the emptier her life seemed. There she was, a fifty year old woman, without a single dream all her own. As Lorraine fixed that fierce glare on her, Sally thought back to her childhood. Certainly she must have wanted something for herself. Desperation clawed at the ropes in her stomach tying knots and twisting her gut until she thought she might vomit.