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Gateway Page 19

by David C. Cassidy


  “Such as?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Like, did I see anything suspicious?”

  “Did you?”

  Jared hesitated. He should have kept his big mouth shut. When he glanced at Marisa, it was clear she was thinking the same. “No.”

  Kingsley gave him a curious look. “You don’t remember me.”

  Again Jared hesitated—the surprise on Marisa’s face the cause—and he looked the officer straight in the eye. “Yeah. I do.”

  “That’s good,” Kingsley said. “Because you used to have problems remembering things. If I remember correctly.”

  “I remember just fine,” Jared said. “But maybe this shouldn’t be about me. It’s about Sonia Wheaton. You remember her, don’t you, Sheriff?”

  “Jared!” Marisa said. “Wade, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize for me,” Jared said.

  Marisa stepped away from him. She gave both men a judgmental glare. “Do either of you care to tell me what the problem is?”

  “Nothing,” Jared said. “Right, Sheriff?”

  “Not a thing,” Kingsley said. “Not a thing. But is there more you can tell me?”

  “About Sonia.”

  “Who else?

  Jared bit back his tongue. “No. There’s nothing more to say.”

  Kingsley smiled dimly. He nodded, and turned to Marisa. “If there’s anything else, don’t hesitate to contact me. And take care of that boy.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I will.”

  Kingsley returned to his vehicle. Before he got in, he looked over at Jared. “You let me know if anything comes to mind.” He paused, with a slight curl of a grin. “Anything, Mr. Collado.”

  Jared and Marisa watched him drive off.

  “What?” Jared said with a shrug.

  Marisa was staring. Her arms were crossed. “I didn’t realize you two had a history.”

  “Yeah, well … it was a long time ago.”

  “Care to share?”

  “There’s not much to share.”

  “Really.”

  “Fine,” Jared said. “It was after the accident. After I came out of the coma. Looking back, you would expect family to be there when you come out of it. Maybe an empty room. Maybe a nurse. What does Jared Cole see? A man of God staring down at him. Christ, I thought Father Horn was there to deliver the Last Rites.

  “I was pretty disoriented. And seeing Horn wasn’t very comforting. I asked him what had happened—I could barely remember my name—and he smiled down at me and said, ‘A miracle, son. A miracle.’ A nurse told me later that Horn had stayed with me every day. Even Judd didn’t come to see me until I came out of it.”

  “I did,” Marisa said.

  “You did? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “I wanted to,” she said. “You were supposed to be in New York. When I heard you had come out of the coma, I just couldn’t bring myself to see you.”

  “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “I know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For a kiss?”

  “For watching over me. For loving me.”

  She kissed him again. On the lips.

  “I could get used to this,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  Sweat beaded his forehead. He held steady a moment, praying the fever would pass.

  “We should get you inside,” she said.

  “I’m okay. Just a little dizzy. And my tooth’s acting up again.”

  She shook her head. “Ready for that doctor yet?”

  “I’m still kicking.”

  “For now,” she said. “Now what about Wade Kingsley?”

  Jared grimaced. “He came to see me in the hospital, not an hour after I emerged from the coma. Apparently, he had the doctor call him immediately. He was pleasant enough at first. But by the time he left, he was pretty sure about two things: I was lying about my memory loss, and that I was responsible for what happened. He thinks my drinking caused the accident. That the Jeep probably swerved to avoid me and hit my parents.”

  “He said that?”

  “Didn’t have to. You heard him.”

  “Wade’s a good cop—a good man—but he’s wrong.”

  Jared bit his lip. “Is he?”

  “Don’t,” she said. “Please don’t.”

  “What if that’s what happened? What if I did cause it?”

  “You didn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because of what you do remember.”

  “And what if what I remember is wrong? If my zany brainy is just making stuff up to protect me? Blocking stuff out?”

  Marisa sighed. “What’s wrong with you? Do you lie in bed every night trying to find one more reason to blame yourself?”

  “This isn’t about me,” Jared said. “Fine. Okay. Let’s assume I’m not to blame. But what if my stupid brain has something locked up inside that would help catch the bastard who did it?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. What if I saw his license plate? What if I saw his face?”

  “Even if you did remember, where would it get you?”

  “I’d have closure, wouldn’t I?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Of course it is.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “This isn’t about justice, Mar. And it’s not about revenge, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “No,” Marisa said. “It’s about you. It’s about this road of guilt you’re on. You’re so hung up on blaming yourself that you can’t see the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “Maybe if you had gotten home on time, your parents would still be alive. I can’t argue that. But you don’t know that, do you?”

  “What are you saying? That something else might have killed them later? That they’d get hit by a train?”

  “It was their anniversary, Jared. You know as well as I do they loved going for walks, rain or shine. Even if you’d been home on time, who’s to say they wouldn’t have gone out later? Did it ever occur to you that they just wanted to spend some romantic time together on that day?”

  “So I’m just supposed to call it fate? I can’t accept that. I won’t.”

  Marisa hugged him. “I know.”

  ~ 85

  Inside, Jared took a seat on the sofa. Marisa fetched him some water, and while she did, a dark thought crept into him. Whatever his ill feelings for Sonia Wheaton were, her demise had done him no small favor. Barring anything unforeseen, the video would be buried with her.

  When Marisa returned and set down a glass beside him, she must have read his mind. “The video.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Try not to feel guilty about that too, okay?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  She gave a slight roll of her eyes.

  “Okay,” he said. “But can you blame me? Sonia didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

  “This isn’t your fault. She did this to herself.” She looked at him starkly. “Right?”

  Jared didn’t know what to say.

  “Listen to me, Jared. I know what’s going on in that head of yours. My son may be having these weird premonitions, but that’s as far as it goes. He’s not causing these things to happen.” When Jared started to say something, she hammered him. “Are we clear?”

  He nodded.

  “Good,” she said. “So let’s just count our blessings and move on.”

  “Seems a little cold.”

  “Sonia threatened to destroy the man I love. How else should I react? I’m upset. I’m scared. I’m freaked out. Okay? But there’s bigger fish right now. Like Kit.”

  “Did he mention anything?”

  “No. But I know what you’re thinking. I’ll get him.”

  Marisa went to the stairs and called for Kit. He came down and took a seat across from Jared. Marisa sat with Jared.

  “How you doin’, Kit?” Jared sai
d.

  “I’m okay.”

  Jared nodded, but his expression betrayed him.

  “You okay?” Kit said.

  Jared rubbed his temples. Like the growing throb in his tooth wasn’t enough.

  “Jared?” Marisa said. She stroked his arm.

  He let his hands down and nodded he was all right. “Kit, did anything happen last night?”

  “It rained. Really hard.”

  “Yeah, it sure did. Out at my place, too.”

  “When are we going to see it?”

  “This weekend,” Jared said. “Kit, did anything else happen last night? During the storm?”

  Kit shook his head.

  “Are you sure?” Marisa said. “Did you have an event? We’ve talked about this, Kit. You need to tell me.”

  Kit stirred. “I did. A little one.”

  Marisa glanced at Jared.

  “Kit,” Jared said. “Was it like the other ones?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you hear a word?” Marisa said.

  Kit looked at Jared. He nodded.

  “Do you remember what it was?” Jared said.

  “Tijera,” Kit said, pronouncing it correctly. He gave a look to his mother. “It’s another Bad Word, isn’t it.”

  “No, honey. It’s not.”

  “It means scissors,” Kit said. “I Googled it at school.” He looked at Jared. “Did something bad happen?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Jared said. “No worries, okay?”

  “But I saw the policeman from upstairs.”

  It was then that Jared realized that Kit was holding his calming stone. “Kit … something did happen.”

  “It was bad, wasn’t it? It was really bad!”

  “Calm down, honey,” Marisa said.

  “It was my fault!”

  Marisa took Kit by the hand. “None of this is your fault. None of it.”

  Kit worked the stone in his right hand. “What happened?”

  Marisa spoke calmly. “Someone died.”

  “Who?”

  “Her name was Sonia Wheaton. You didn’t know her.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “It was an accident,” Marisa said. “Just an accident.”

  “Did she fall? On scissors?”

  “That’s enough, okay? We don’t know what happ—”

  “She did, didn’t she!”

  “Enough,” Marisa snapped. “Stop that talk right now. You had nothing to do with this.”

  “Your mom’s right,” Jared said. “Just because you heard that word doesn’t mean you had anything to do with what happened. You understand that, right?”

  Kit’s grip on the stone relaxed. “I guess.”

  “Good,” Jared said. “Because it’s important that you do.”

  Kit nodded.

  “Was there more?” Jared said. “Anything else during your event?”

  Kit’s eyes shifted. He clasped both hands round the stone. “You mean the shape.”

  “Did you see one?” Jared said.

  Kit sighed lightly. He shook his head.

  “You didn’t?” Marisa said hesitantly.

  Kit was squeezing the stone now.

  “Honey, did you see something?”

  Kit paused. Nodded.

  “Was it the shape?” Jared said. “The same one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Different eyes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was there anything else that was different?”

  Kit worked the stone. He rocked a bit.

  “Baby? It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

  “Was there something different?” Jared said.

  Kit bit down on his lip, clearly troubled.

  Marisa moved up to him and slipped her hands around his. “It’s all right, baby. You need to tell us what you saw.”

  “You’ll think I’m stupid.”

  “Of course we won’t,” she said.

  Jared nodded to Kit, prodding him.

  Kit drew his hands free. “Will it get me?”

  “It’s not real,” Marisa said. “There’s no mons—”

  “It was in my room.”

  Jared could tell from Marisa’s silence that she felt the same creeping chill along her spine. He took her hand, and he wondered if she drew as much comfort from it as he did. “What do you mean, Kit?”

  Kit said nothing. He glanced briefly at his mother.

  “Baby? What do you mean?” Marisa said. “It was like when you see spots or colors, right? They aren’t really there. Just your brain making you think they are.”

  Kit shook his head. “I saw its eyes. I could hear its monster thoughts. I could—” His voice trailed off.

  “What?” Marisa said. “You could what.”

  Jared prompted when Kit didn’t respond. “Kit?”

  Kit looked up. He was trembling. “I could hear it breathing.”

  ~ 86

  Jared slept in on Saturday and started late to get ready for Marisa and Kit’s visit. He felt better than he had in the last two days—even his achey tooth was only mildly numb—but he was run down. Bad dreams had interrupted his sleep, and while he rarely remembered any of them, the faint echoes of his father’s dying whispers had come for him in the darkness. He could still hear them as he pulled up in his driveway.

  He unpacked the groceries he’d picked up for the barbecue, then returned to the Land Rover to fetch a small cardboard box in the back. Inside the house, he set it inside the foyer closet. He would have gift-wrapped it, but there just wasn’t time. As if on cue, he saw Marisa’s hatchback through the slim glass panel beside the front doors. The car crept up the curving driveway, stopped, paused, then finally inched up behind his vehicle. He smiled. Marisa’s eyes were marbles. Her jaw dropped and seemed permanently locked. That was, until she shook her head and mouthed, “Oh … my … GOD.”

  She said it aloud when Jared greeted her and her son outside. Kit was craning his little neck trying to take it all in.

  “It’s like a castle!” he said. “It’s got like a hundred windows, Mom!”

  “I know,” Marisa said, her eyes still wide. She gave Jared a kiss, and he threw his arm around her.

  “What—no drawbridge?” she said.

  “I know, it’s a lot more than I need,” he said. “But when I saw it, I couldn’t resist. And to tell you the truth, compared to what I was paying for rent in New York, this place was a steal.”

  She looked at the guest house at the end of a cobbled path. “That’s bigger than my place.”

  “I figure your parents could come for a visit. Your dad would love the big-screen TV. It’s even got a hot tub.”

  “Forget them,” she said. “I’ll take it.”

  They shared a laugh, and Jared helped her with her things. She had a small suitcase for Kit, and a larger one for her. He took the latter.

  “You don’t exactly travel light for a barbecue,” he said.

  “I was thinking it might be more of a sleepover. If that’s okay.”

  Jared smiled and lugged the suitcase under his arm. “Did you pack that bikini?”

  “Afraid not,” she said. “But play your cards right, mister, and I’ll make you forget all about that bikini.”

  ~ 87

  A quick tour of the main floor brought one reference to a supreme being after another out of Marisa. But when she saw the expansive kitchen with marble countertops, mahogany cupboards with brushed-nickel hardware, stainless steel appliances, and an enormous kitchen island with generous pots and pans hanging above it—not to mention the attached breakfast-slash-sunroom and its tall glass windows all around—she was speechless.

  Jared waved a hand in front of her. “Earth to Mar.”

  “I think she’s having an event,” Kit joked. “Maybe she’s seeing spots.”

  “Heaven,” Marisa said. “I’m no great cook, but I could die trying.”

  Jared laughed. �
�Okay, it’s a little overkill for a guy who basically eats microwave pizza. But yeah. I like it, too.”

  Kit was at the double-door fridge, struggling to open one of the wide doors.

  “Kit!” Marisa said. “That’s not polite.”

  He got the door open, revealing far more space than food. “Lot of space for nothing,” he observed. “I could sleep in there.”

  “You could,” Jared said, a little embarrassed. He suddenly realized that for all his success, in many ways, he still lived like a college student. With an anxious glance at Marisa, he wondered if she was thinking the same. Time to grow up, he thought. Jesus.

  “How about some chocolate milk, Kit?”

  “Sure.”

  Jared fetched a glass and poured him some. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you,” Kit said. “Can I sit in there?” He pointed to the sunroom.

  “Sure can,” Jared said.

  Kit left them in the kitchen and took up in a comfortable alabaster-colored chair at the long table in the sunroom. He was lost amid the nine other empty chairs.

  “Is everything here so big?” Marisa said.

  Jared shrugged. “Yeah. I feel lost in here sometimes. But you make it a lot smaller.”

  She smiled. “I love this open concept,” she said, leading Jared into the living room. “Oh my god! That’s the painting!”

  Marisa stood before the stone hearth, admiring the artwork. “It’s so amazing. It looks great there. Your dad would be so proud.” She bumped Jared’s arm with a small fist. “You did good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Ohhh, I love this,” she said, running a hand along the arch of the hearth. “Very romantic.”

  She looked around, taking it all in. “You’ve got quite the decorative eye now,” she told him. “All that haute couture rubbing off on you.”

  “You bet. Check out those attractive moving boxes in the corner. What do you think? Post-modern urban trash?”

  “I tried not to notice,” she said. “Or that, either. What, they didn’t have the big one in stock?”

  Jared shrugged, regarding the enormous TV. “They say the first step is admitting you have a problem,” he said, hanging his head low. “Hi. My name is Jared Cole. And I’m a Netflix junkie.”

  “Awesome,” a small voice behind him said. Kit was gawking at the giant television. He had his drink in his hand. “That’s the biggest TV I ever seen.”

 

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