by CJ Lyons
A hero’s end. Here, in my grasp.
Tyree’s face morphed from gloating to terrified little boy. Pinched and twisted and desperate. “You’re a doctor. You can’t shoot me. You save lives.”
He was trying to keep his voice calm, but it emerged with a whine that made me want to pull the trigger even more. He must have read that in my stance because he held up his hands in the universal posture of surrender, his back to the balustrade. “It’ll be cold-blooded murder if you pull the trigger. Can you live with that?”
Wouldn’t have to live with it for very long. But I said nothing. It took all my concentration to keep my index finger from squeezing the trigger.
“Give me the gun. I’ll do it.” Devon sounded irritated. Casual. He’d done this before. I’d guessed as much, but now it was hammered home.
I liked Devon. He was a good guy. Better than most. Maybe Hippocrates had it all wrong. Maybe we shouldn’t treat everyone the same. Maybe there really were good guys and bad ones. Ones who deserved to be stopped before they caused more harm.
It wasn’t philosophy or morals or ethics that stopped me. It was Ryder. He trusted me. Had faith in me. To save Esme, to save him, to do the right thing.
So I did.
I eased my finger off the trigger. “We’re taking Tyree with us. He’s the one who killed Allie, not Leo. He needs to answer for what he’s done.”
Devon didn’t look too surprised. Tyree chuckled. “How’d you figure that?”
I couldn’t very well tell him that I’d been inside Leo’s mind, had seen everything that he’d done—and Allie hadn’t been any part of it. “Esme said Leo threatened her and Jess if you didn’t give back the ring you stole. Daniel Kingston’s signet ring. I’m guessing that once Leo finished with his victims, he had you take care of cleaning up. You knew those women’s minds were destroyed, figured it was a way to frame Leo without Daniel knowing you were involved. So you branded them with a ring covered in his DNA.”
“If you were a real man, you’d’ve just shot him like the animal he was,” Devon said.
“Right. And have his old man take it out on me? Kingston would’ve burned this place to the ground, everyone who lives here with it.” Tyree’s face twisted into a sneer. “You have no idea, riding around in your fancy car, wearing your fancy suits, but I’ll always protect my own.”
“But you didn’t, did you, Tyree?” I asked. “What happened? Did Allie spot you disposing of a body? She’d dressed real nice that morning. Was she coming to tell you she’d reconsidered your offer of a job? Anything to get enough money to get out of here. But you didn’t know how to titrate the PXA. You overdosed her. And in the meantime, Leo got back from Ireland, figured out what you were doing, and he came after you.”
“You let Leo kill Jess,” Devon said. “And you used the search for Esme to cover up you moving Allie into the room with the other kids. Figured if the cops found her and them, they’d finally start to put two and two together.”
“Stupid cops. Should’ve figured it out months ago. Must’ve all been bought off by Kingston.” Tyree chuckled. “Fat lot of good it did him or his son. And you got nothing to prove anything against me.”
“He’s right,” Devon said. “Give me the gun, Angela.”
“No. Jacob will find a way to prosecute him, see to it that he pays for what he’s done. The truth needs to be told.” After everything she and the other victims had been through, I couldn’t let Allie down. They deserved justice.
“Truth has nothing to do with the law. When you gonna get that through your head, Angela? Shoot him and be done with it.”
“No.”
Devon glared at me, his face filled with disappointment and anger. Then he lunged forward, head down like a bull, launching Tyree over the edge of the roof. Tyree’s scream shredded the night.
I ran to the edge and looked over. Tyree’s body sprawled on the ground far below.
“They’ll find a gun on him,” Devon said. “The same one that shot the cop I told you about. The same one he would have used to kill me. It was self-defense, pure and simple. Me or him. No choice about it.”
My breath coming in gasps, I stared at Devon. He wasn’t gloating, but he didn’t appear racked with guilt either. Maybe he wasn’t one of the good guys after all.
The gun was slippery in my blood-covered hands. Maybe I wasn’t either.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
I didn’t want to be here. Ryder was still in the OR, and I wanted to be there when the surgeons had any news. But I owed Devon—even as I worried about the direction he was taking. Tyree’s death had only made things worse, although the cops hadn’t seemed too interested in pursuing the truth, not after they realized Tyree had killed one of their own.
So I kept Devon’s secrets, and he kept mine. He’d guided me through the tunnels to where I’d seen Leo’s stash—the last of his various PXA formulations, along with his computer and written notes—and we used one of Tyree’s bombs to destroy it all. Then Devon had insisted we come here, that I do him one last favor.
He wasn’t the man I’d met last night. Seemed that losing Jess and his mom, seeing Esme in danger, had broken him. Or maybe, like me, he had already been broken, and the events of the last two days had just brought the cracks to the surface.
“I want to make sure he knows what’s going on,” Devon insisted as we entered the ICU where Daniel Kingston lay in a coma. “It’s only fair that he knows about Leo.”
“Basically, you’re using me to tell him his son was a homicidal maniac and that I killed him.” Exhaustion and the need to get back to Ryder had driven me past subtlety.
“You don’t have to tell him that part. Tell him Leo died because of me.”
“You don’t understand.” I waved my hand vaguely toward my head, not sure of any words to describe what happened when I was inside someone. Remnants of Leo’s final scream echoed through my mind, making me wince. I had the feeling I would never be free of him… or what I’d done to him. “There’s no lying in there.”
“It’s the truth. Leo did die because of me and his warped jealousy of the woman his father was obsessed with.”
We reached Daniel’s bedside. His vitals were stable, except the pressure monitor revealed cerebral edema, brain swelling. I studied the EEG tracing, hoping there would be no spindle bursts. No such luck.
“Be sure to let him know that as soon as the paternity test is back, the lawyers will arrange for me to be his legal guardian while he’s in a coma. I’ll be handling all his business and affairs, so they’re in good hands.”
It was his smile that told me this was his real message for Daniel. The knowledge that the bastard child of the woman he’d brutalized was now gaining control of Daniel’s life. Everything Daniel once held dear, Devon now had power over.
Funny how I never noticed before how cruel Devon’s smile could be. “You’re no better than Tyree or Leo or Daniel himself.”
He startled, then a quick, sharp laugh escaped. “Never said I was. But at least I’m trying. Better for folks in the Tower than if any of them had lived and I’d died.”
I hated that I couldn’t argue with that. “What about Esme?”
His smile jackknifed into a warning. “Don’t you worry about Esme. I’ll protect her. Just like I’ll protect your secrets, Angela. Ryder never has to know about your little fits. At least not from me.”
“I don’t respond well to threats, Devon. Tell Daniel what you want him to know yourself. I’m done here.” I stalked away, returning to the waiting room in time to hear that Ryder was going to be fine, just fine, no major damage.
As I hugged Ozzie and Jacob, I surprised myself by sending a prayer of gratitude—to who, I had no idea. But it felt good. I was starting to understand why Ryder still believed. Maybe too little, too late, but worth a try.
<<<>>>
“Everything’s paid for, and I’ve set up an account you can draw on if you need anything else,” Devon told Flynn when he met her outs
ide the Tower.
“Just like I heard those other kids had some mystery donor pay for them all to go to a fancy group home out in the country?”
“Tyree should have done that himself. Man was a miser, worse than the Russians.” He glanced at his watch. He was meeting with his lawyer in an hour to start the court proceedings. Soon, he’d own the Tower.
No more drugs and whores. He was going to put Tyree’s people to work turning this place into someplace decent to live.
Flynn had her hand on the car door. “Don’t you want to tell her good-bye?”
“No. No, I can never see her again. She starts school next week. A nice one, all girls, real good. She’ll have money for college, everything she needs. Can’t get into any trouble up there. It’s goddamn Vermont. Who ever heard of any trouble up in Vermont? She’ll be safe.”
“What if she asks about you? About her father?”
“Say he died. Say he loved her very much. But he died.”
“But—”
“No.” He didn’t recognize his own voice—it sounded like an ancient memory, this harsh, all-too-certain man, callously exiling his only family. “This is the best way to keep her safe. I don’t want anybody ever coming after her, not ever again. The only way to do that is for nobody to ever know she’s mine.”
“I understand.” But her face said she didn’t, not really. No matter. Flynn had already risked her life time and again for Esme. She’d keep her safe. That was all he cared about.
“Here’s a private number you can call if you ever need me. No one else on the planet has that number, so don’t lose it. You call, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If I don’t get back to you—” They both knew what that meant.
Flynn nodded. “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry.”
Devon opened the car door for her. Esme was asleep in the backseat, her hands folded under her face like she was praying.
He helped Flynn into the car, gripping her arm, suddenly not wanting to let go. “Don’t let her hang out with any boys like me. No smoking, ever—that shit’s worse than crack. And if she wants to do any of that Vermont ski stuff, make sure she wears a helmet and pads and—”
She laid her gloved palm against his cheek, and he stopped. “She’ll be fine, Devon. I promise.”
He nodded. Let her go. Closed the car door. Turned away before it left the curb. And walked inside the Tower. A pair of Tyree’s old bangers lounged inside the lobby.
“You boys don’t have nothing better to do?” he asked.
Their eyes vacant, they shrugged. Chickens with their heads cut off. “Stand up straight. You all work for me now.”
<<<>>>
Acting on my feelings for Ryder would be wrong—probably the most wrong thing I’ve ever done in my life. Worse even than what I’d done to Leo. But nothing had ever felt so right.
Was it so horrible to allow hope guide me instead of the guilt I’d followed most of my life? After all, I didn’t know for certain that things were hopeless, that I truly had fatal insomnia. Louise said it would take three to four weeks to get the genetic results back. My answer would probably come around Christmas.
Until then, I needed to be able to feel, to live, to laugh. I needed to believe that after everything I’d done—after my father, Sister Patrice, Leo—that someone, somehow found me worthy of love.
I needed Ryder.
I crept forward, wrapping my fingers around the drape surrounding his bed in the surgical recovery unit. Other than the steady beat of the monitor, it was silent beyond. I filled my lungs as if preparing to enter an unknown world and stepped inside the drapes.
He lay so still, so very still on the bed. It didn’t look like him at all. The Ryder I knew was filled with energy, ready for anything—even when he was relaxed. It was his eyes, I realized now. The way they never stopped moving, scanning for danger.
That spark was gone. His eyes were closed, his face slack, the only sign of life the slight rise of his chest.
I reached out to take his hand, feel his pulse—reflex of a physician. But I wasn’t a doctor, not anymore. I was still accepting that new reality. It stung, like a fresh wound left open to heal from the inside out. Raw nerve endings exposed, not scarred over yet.
Anesthesia is as close to dying as we get, medically. I stared down at Ryder’s still form. Was he still under the influence of the sedatives? What would come if I touched him? If I was able to go inside with him, what would I find? What would he learn about me?
Would he despise me for trespassing into his most private thoughts?
I hated this uncertainty, this feeling like I was out of control. Pretty much how the rest of my life would be. No more guarantees. Of anything.
No rules, no boundaries, no limits. I could do anything I wanted with little to no consequence. Devon was right—and so very wrong.
There would be a price to pay. The people I left behind. Jacob. My family. And now Ryder.
Still, I couldn’t resist. I took his hand in mine. Closed my eyes, waiting for the music and bright lights.
Nothing. Just the warmth of his skin. I opened my eyes, realized I was smiling. He was asleep, just asleep. Nowhere near almost-dead.
I sat there so long, I drifted into a comfortable haze of numb apathy. As long as he was okay, I didn’t care about anything else. Then I felt him stir. He stiffened with pain, opened his eyes, instantly at full alert. Until he saw me. I loved the way his smile crept up his body, relaxing his posture, quirking his lips, releasing that devastating dimple, and finally lighting his eyes.
He was smiling at me—eyes clear, gaze steady. Everything we’d been through in the past two days, it hadn’t shaken him at all. I didn’t have to worry about overburdening him, accidentally hurting him. Not like Jacob.
I can trust Ryder not to break.
Maybe I am dying. Who knows? Feels like I’m only just beginning to live.
I’m Angela Rossi. I’m thirty-four years old, and once, I was a doctor.
Now, I am a killer.
This is the story of how I will die.
Someday. Soon.
But not alone. And not without hope.
<<<>>>
Thank you for reading FAREWELL TO DREAMS! (keep reading to the end for a special note to readers about what went into writing FAREWELL TO DREAMS)
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About CJ:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of twenty-three books, former pediatric ER doctor CJ Lyons has lived the life she writes about in her cutting edge Thrillers with Heart.
CJ has been called a "master within the genre" (Pittsburgh Magazine) and her work has been praised as "breathtakingly fast-paced" and "riveting" (Publishers Weekly) with "characters with beating hearts and three dimensions" (Newsday).
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Think you can handle Lucy?
Coming Fall, 2014!
Can two lost souls save each other? Meet Hart & Drake:
Love a touch of romance with your thrillers? Check out these action packed stories:
Luc
y Guardino FBI Thrillers:
SNAKE SKIN
BLOOD STAINED
KILL ZONE
AFTER SHOCK
FAREWELL TO DREAMS: A Novel of Fatal Insomnia
BROKEN, a Young Adult Medical Thriller
Hart and Drake Romantic Suspense Series:
NERVES OF STEEL
SLEIGHT OF HAND
FACE TO FACE
Shadow Ops, Romantic Thrillers:
CHASING SHADOWS
LOST IN SHADOWS
EDGE OF SHADOWS: The Shadow Ops Finale
BORROWED TIME, a Romantic Thriller
LUCIDITY, a Ghost of a Love Story
Caitlyn Tierney FBI Thrillers:
BLIND FAITH
BLACK SHEEP
HOLLOW BONES
Angels of Mercy, Medical Suspense Series:
LIFELINES
WARNING SIGNS
URGENT CARE
CRITICAL CONDITION
AJ Palladino Suspense Series (co-written with Erin Brockovich):
ROCK BOTTOM
HOT WATER
Dear Reader,
Some people collect stamps, I collect bizarre and gruesome diseases. Of these, Fatal Familial Insomnia is perhaps the worst. I’ve long been fascinated by its unique symptoms and inescapable clinical progression. In fact, I began writing this book back in 2008.
(If you’re interested in the real facts behind Fatal Insomnia, check out the Extras page on my website, www.CJLyons.net)
It’s taken me this long (six years!) and multiple starts and stops to realize I wasn’t writing a book about a fascinatingly cruel disease; rather, I was writing a book about hope.