Devil's Night
Page 29
“It’s over, Burt,” Kat said. “Give up.”
But Burt had no intention of doing that. Kat could tell by the way he looked to the shadowy corners and saw the propane tanks sitting in each one of them.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t.”
He was still holding the lighter. It poked out of his clenched fist, now as deadly and explosive as the stick of dynamite he had used earlier.
“Burt, stop!” Kat froze in the doorway, too scared to move. “It’s not worth it.”
But Burt Hammond had already made up his mind. All fear had left his eyes. In its place was the dim light of defeat. Life as he knew it was over. His grand plan wouldn’t happen. He’d be tried for three murders and four arsons. He would die in jail.
To Kat, he looked like someone who knew he was doomed. Someone who thought it would be easier if he just ended his life right then and there, taking her with him.
She started inching backward through the door, toward the tower’s stairs. It didn’t matter how close she got. If Burt lit himself on fire, she wouldn’t make it out alive. The entire bell tower would explode in seconds.
“Please, Burt,” she begged. “Don’t do this.”
Burt closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kat. Forgive me.”
He lifted a trembling thumb to the top of the lighter. He pressed down, ready to spin it to life.
A gunshot cut him off.
The single report blasted through the bell tower. Kat recognized the sound. She’d know it anywhere. It was a Glock.
Her Glock.
In an instant, Burt was flat-backed on the floor, a bullet hole the size of a dime in the middle of his forehead. The lighter sat beside him. Kat slid across the floor toward it, brushing it aside, pushing it straight into the chasm beneath the church bell, where it could do no more damage.
She then looked to the doorway, seeing Henry Goll emerge from the darkness of the stairwell. In his hands was the Glock she had dropped.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think so.”
Kat didn’t know for sure. Her shoulder hurt like hell, and her head still throbbed. That, coupled with exhaustion and the fact that she had almost died for the second time that day, left her brain feeling like cotton candy. But she could sit up, which was good. Standing, however, might be more of a problem.
“How’s Deana?” she asked, trying to push herself off the floor.
The brief shake of Henry’s head told her everything she needed to know. Deana was gone, and the news caused Kat to drop back to the floor.
“I’m so sorry, Henry,” she said. “I truly am.”
Wordlessly, Henry stepped into the bell tower. He spent a brief moment surveying the scene—two corpses, propane tanks and all—before helping Kat to her feet. She couldn’t stand on her own, relying on Henry for support. It was a role reversal from their night in the burning mill a year earlier. Then, Kat had done the heavy lifting.
As they started the long descent down the stairs, the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles rose outside. The state police, arriving at last. Only that didn’t make any sense.
Kat turned to Henry. “How did you get here?”
“A new friend.”
She realized who he was talking about when they emerged from the church. Parked outside was a red Volkswagen Beetle. Standing next to it was Lucy Meade.
“Thank God you’re okay,” she said, crushing Kat with a hug so enthusiastic that it made everything hurt even more. Kat, though, didn’t mind.
“I was so worried,” Lucy continued. “Are you hurt?”
“Yes, but I’ll live.”
“We need to get you to the hospital.”
Kat waved away the suggestion, burned shoulder be damned. First, she needed to find Father Ron, remove the handcuffs, and say a few thousand Hail Marys. Then she needed to go home, hug her son, and take a long, hot shower. After that maybe, just maybe, she could finally get some sleep.
“No,” Lucy insisted. “We have to go to the hospital. Tony just called. Nick is awake.”
2 A.M.
The hospital.
Again.
Kat had spent more time there in the past twenty-four hours than was good for her. This time, however, she wanted to be there. She needed to be.
Creeping into Nick’s room—thanks to Dr. Patel, bending the rules once more—she saw that he was indeed awake. His eyes, wide open and vibrant, latched on to hers immediately. Kat practically ran to his bedside and scooped one of his hands into both of hers.
“You look like shit,” Nick said.
“I could say the same thing about you.”
Actually, Kat couldn’t tell which one of them looked worse. Nick’s head was still wound with bandages, and his skin had the chalky pallor of a corpse. But her appearance was no better. Her shoulder had been treated and wrapped to mummylike proportions, and the painkillers she had been given made her eyes shifty and dazed. She reeked, too, a fact that Nick didn’t fail to comment on.
“You also smell like a gas station.”
“It’s my new perfume,” Kat said. “Exxon, by Calvin Klein.”
“I guess that means you caught the bad guy.”
“I did. And now it’s all over.”
She decided to spare Nick the details until morning. It was far too late, and she had barely been able to process them herself. Besides, she had a feeling there’d be plenty of time for bedside chats in the days to come.
“Did the doctors tell you how long you’re going to be here?”
“A few days,” Nick said. “They want to watch my brain a bit more. Just to make sure the wheels are turning properly.”
“Maybe this whole thing finally knocked some sense into you.”
“Probably not.” Nick chuckled, all the tubes and wires he was attached to shaking with him. “But Dr. Patel said I should be okay in time. I might have some trouble with motor skills.”
“Well, you’ve already got the cane.”
Nick nodded. “I do. The doctor said there also might be some short-term memory loss.”
“Like what?”
“I can’t remember.”
Although he was laughing, Kat noticed a look of uncertainty flash across his pale features. He was frightened, and rightly so. She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know that she’d be with him the entire time. He had saved her life. Twice, in fact. And she would gladly repay him by being someone to lean on whenever he needed it. A second cane, just in case the first one wasn’t enough.
Kat also knew that Nick now had more than just her in his corner. Lucy Meade was there, too, and, judging from the expectant way she stood in the doorway to his room, she wanted to see Nick just as badly as Kat had.
“I see your new nurse is here,” she said, beckoning Lucy into the room. “I think you’re in capable hands.”
The flicker of fear on Nick’s face vanished when Lucy entered the room. It was replaced by nothing less than joy.
“Are you here for my sponge bath?” he asked.
“Only if you behave.” Lucy moved to the side of his bed, leaned against him lightly, and placed her head on his shoulder. “Now you should get some sleep.”
“Technically,” Nick said, “I’ve been asleep all day.”
Kat let out an appropriately timed yawn. “The rest of us haven’t had that luxury. So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
“Bring coffee when you do,” Nick said. “I refuse to drink the swill they serve here.”
Kat smiled. “Of course.”
Turning to face the door, she felt a slight tug at her heart. It wasn’t exactly sadness, but it wasn’t happiness either. It was a kind of wistful ache as she realized that her relationship with Nick Donnelly was entering a strange and new phase. For almost two years, they had had each other’s backs, through thick and thin. They still did, but now something was different. Now Kat understood that she would have to share him with Lucy.
&nbs
p; She left the room, letting out another yawn. Christ, she needed to sleep. And soon. Even then, it wouldn’t be for long. There was a lot of work to do later. Paperwork. Police reports. Meetings with the state police. At least she was no longer in charge. On her way to Nick’s room, Gloria Ambrose called to announce that she would be arriving within the hour.
As for Giuseppe Fanelli and Lucia Trapani, she had no idea if they still intended to build a casino on the banks of Lake Squall. She doubted it. Even if they pressed forward, she had a feeling town officials would want nothing to do with a project tainted with so much blood.
Still, Perry Hollow had a lot of rebuilding to do. It was without a hotel. They had no rec center. Their library had been blown apart.
Yet, just like Nick, it would pull through.
Kat had no doubt about that.
*
Once he had reached the hospital, a nurse had kindly offered Henry a room in the maternity ward in which to take care of Adam. He didn’t have it for long. Just an hour or two. Enough time to clean up and maybe take a nap.
Only Henry couldn’t sleep, no matter how numbingly exhausted he was. An uncertain future gaped before him, keeping him awake even as Adam lay dozing on his chest. He was now a single father, a fact that seemed to grow more preposterous the longer he thought about it. This was not meant to happen. Fate had decided long ago that Henry was to remain alone, tied down by nothing. Yet here he was, lying in a borrowed hospital bed holding a person he would be attached to for the rest of his life.
He imagined Gia, his late wife, watching the scene in the afterlife, wherever and whatever that was. He pictured her smiling, pleased that he finally had the boy he had always wanted.
Maybe Deana was with her. Henry hoped so. It would be nice for her to have a friend in heaven, when there had been so few for her here on earth. It wasn’t fair that she wouldn’t be around to see Adam grow and thrive. She had deserved better, and Henry vowed to raise her child the best way he knew how. Deana’s memory would live on in Adam. Henry would make sure of it.
Which meant he had a lot of learning to do. Shutting his eyes, praying for sleep to descend upon him, Henry nonetheless kept thinking about all the baffling and new responsibilities that had been thrust upon him. He knew nothing about children, especially babies. He didn’t know when Adam needed to be fed or what he ate. He didn’t know how to hold him properly or burp him or bathe him. He didn’t even know how to change a diaper.
But he would find out. He had to.
Those tasks joined the ever-expanding list of things Henry needed to do in the next few hours. He needed to make funeral arrangements for Deana, an unenviable task, but one he had to undertake, seeing how she didn’t have any family left. Then he’d need to go through her house, collecting all the things Adam required.
At some point, he also needed to call Dario Giambusso. He imagined catching his editor in mid-jog again and spilling the details about Fanelli, the casino, the fires, the deaths. And if Dario was still upright on his treadmill, the news that Henry would not be returning to Italy would certainly knock him down.
Henry didn’t know where he and Adam would go after that. The possibilities were endless. Maybe Pittsburgh, where Henry had grown up. Or perhaps someplace warm and tropical, where Adam could spend his childhood splashed with sunshine.
Yet as dozens of destinations shuffled through his brain, Henry’s thoughts kept stopping on one place.
Perry Hollow.
It had once been his home, and he saw no reason why it couldn’t be again. Yes, he’d have to find some way to support Adam. And he knew there would always be bad memories associated with the town. But people who cared about him were here. People who could help him navigate the obstacle course that was single parenthood.
“What do you think?” he whispered to Adam, still fast asleep. “You like it here, don’t you?”
His son stirred, nuzzling his head against Henry’s chest. He seemed to be at peace for the first time all night. Probably dreaming, Henry thought. Maybe about the future. And from the beautiful smile on his angelic face, Henry could only assume that it was a happy dream.
“I thought you’d be sleeping.”
Henry turned from his son to the room’s open door, where Chief Kat Campbell now stood.
“I’m surprised you’re not doing the same,” he said.
“I was on my way home when a nurse told me where you were hiding.” Kat tiptoed to the bed, careful not to wake Adam. “And I was thinking that the two of you might want to come along.”
*
A half hour later, they stumbled through Kat’s front door, burdened with emergency items they had picked up from Deana’s house. Diapers. Baby food. Bottles. Formula.
Lou van Sickle, spending yet another night on the lumpy couch, practically salivated over the activity, so much so that it took her a while to leave. She insisted on staying until Kat could guarantee that she was feeling okay. Kat appreciated the concern but knew Lou had an ulterior motive. She wanted to get as much information as she could before starting up the gossip mill bright and early in the morning.
James, however, was simply thrilled to have surprise guests. Running downstairs in his pajamas, he repeatedly hugged Henry and cooed over little Adam.
It buoyed Kat’s heart to see him so engaged and happy again. She knew her job was rough on him. She knew that it kept James from having the normal childhood she so desperately wanted for him. There had been problems in the past and there might be more in the future. But at that moment, everything was right, with James and with her. And she needed to cherish it for as long as it lasted.
Henry seemed to be enjoying the moment, too, as much as he could. His posture became less rigid as he and Kat arranged all the items they had carried in. He was relaxing, Kat knew, adjusting to the idea of staying with her and James for a while. He had been through a lot that day, and he had lost so much. But Kat knew that having a place to stay and friends nearby would make his first night alone with Adam much easier.
“Are you sure we’re not putting you out?” Henry asked.
“Not at all,” Kat said. “You two can stay as long as you need. Honestly. I want you to.”
She meant it. She cared about Henry. She had missed him when he was gone. And now she wanted him to stay.
She thought back to their brush with death in the swimming pool earlier that day. So much had happened between then and now that it all seemed surreal and hazy, like the lingering remnants of a dream. But she remembered the way they had kissed. That was still vivid, surprisingly so. While there probably had been several reasons for the incident, Kat realized the main one was that she had really wanted to kiss Henry Goll. She had a feeling he had wanted to do the same. And whether it ever happened again in the future was now entirely up to them.
Adam, who was being cradled by James in the living room, started to cry. It was a fraught and fussy noise that Kat remembered from when James was that age.
“He’s been crying a lot,” Henry said as the two of them joined James on the couch. “Is that normal?”
Kat couldn’t help but chuckle at his total lack of knowledge about children. “Yes. It’s very normal. He’s probably hungry.”
She took the baby from James and sniffed, detecting the telltale scent of a full diaper.
“And he needs to be changed.”
Seeing that Henry looked petrified at both prospects, Kat grabbed a stack of diapers. She spread a white towel on the floor and gently placed Adam on top of it before cleaning him.
Henry joined her, staring at his son with a tender trepidation. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“It’s easy,” Kat said. “I’ll show you.”
James crawled onto the floor next to her, eager to watch and learn. With wide, curious eyes, he watched as Kat placed two diapers on the towel, one on each side of the baby.
Removing the old diaper and discarding it quickly, Kat slid a fresh one beneath Adam. She then wrapped the diaper
around him, slowly, making sure Henry followed every move.
When she was finished, she unfastened the diaper and let Henry try. He was nervous, of course, and fumbled a bit. But, with her help, he managed just fine.
“See,” Kat said. “I told you it was easy.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank my agent, Michelle Brower; my editor, Elizabeth Lacks; the Ritter and Livio families; and all my friends at The Star-Ledger. Special thanks goes to Maura Mitchell, for patiently answering every silly question I had about witchcraft; Sarah Dutton, for literally dropping everything to read the first draft and offering valuable advice when she was finished; and Mike Livio, for telling me over and over again that I should write this book, even when I was convinced I shouldn’t.
ALSO BY TODD RITTER
Bad Moon
Death Notice
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TODD RITTER, author of Death Notice and Bad Moon, is a career journalist and currently works at The Star-Ledger. He lives in suburban New Jersey. This is his third novel. Visit him online at www.toddritteronline.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
DEVIL’S NIGHT. Copyright © 2013 by Todd Ritter. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover photograph of building © Malcolm MacGregor/Getty Images
Cover photograph of sky © Daniiel/Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Ritter, Todd.
Devil’s night / Todd Ritter.—First edition.