by Christa Wick
"You have the phone," Davies accused.
"I found it, I told you!"
"We'll see." Davies pulled out the picture of the white truck. "Get you in a line-up, see what he says."
Hicks nodded and pulled out his phone. He punched a number in and the pocket of the cop who had taken the picture into the interview room started to vibrate. He pulled his phone out, gave a clipped "Yeah?"
On screen, Hicks talked into his phone. "Mr. Phelps, this is Detective Hicks again."
"Hello, Detective Hicks."
Listening to the fake exchange, my heart began to beat faster. Both Hicks and Davies were like hunting dogs at last, the scent of blood in their nostrils as they circled Sammy.
"I was wondering if you could come down to the station today, see if you recognize anyone in a line-up."
"Sure, anything to help the police out, Detective Hicks." The cop pocketed the phone again.
In the interview room, Sammy rose to his feet.
Hicks' hand bobbed over the table. "Sit down, son."
"I ain't under arrest, you said so. I don't have to wait around no more."
"But you took the phone," Davies said, standing.
"Doesn't mean I killed Ray!"
"No, but you stole his phone. We could arrest you right now, you don't want to cooperate," Davies threatened.
Hicks seemed to go soft on the boy. "Sammy, we arrest you now, I don't know how you're ever going to clear your name. You have this one chance to tell your story before this guy comes in and identifies you, before we get a warrant for your DNA and match it up with what we already found on Ray's jacket."
Sinking back into his chair, Sammy hid his face behind his hands and moaned.
"You know the difference between manslaughter and murder?" Hicks asked, reaching across the table to rest his hand on Sammy's shoulder.
At "murder," Sammy moaned again, the sound breaking halfway into a keening noise.
"It's the difference between having a life after jail and spending life in jail, son. That's what it is." Hicks got up, went around to Sammy's side of the table and knelt next to the young man. "And I know you didn't go into that building intending to kill Ray Epps."
A sob broke from Claire Epps. The female detective in the screening area pushed Craig to the side and wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulder while Hicks sank another hook into Sammy. I had to admit that, once he had the right suspect in the interrogation room, Hicks had some skills I hadn't expected. No wonder failing to get a confession from Alex had chafed his ass.
"I know you didn't mean to because it made you sick afterwards. That's your vomit on the jacket, isn't it?"
Sammy's head moved, bobbing in a half nod. Davies pulled out a large legal pad and started writing on it while Hicks rubbed Sammy's back.
"You thought the building was empty, knew Serrano didn't have any security on the site and that there would be stuff you could take -- wiring, maybe even tools."
Another nod from Sammy and Claire Epps doubled over in her chair, her arms around her stomach as she listened to Hicks walk Sammy through the murder.
"He tried to do good by that boy, tried to find him work..." Spasms shuddered through her.
On screen, Hicks kept talking the boy closer to prison. "You didn't even know it was Ray that came back, could have been someone else looking to boost the wiring."
"I didn't know, I didn't," Sammy sobbed. "I was afraid it might be a burglar..."
"So you grabbed the axe..."
"No...no," Claire moaned.
I retreated to the window sill as the female detective tried to console Ray's wife. The woman's pain was palpable. Her whole body shook with it. Her hands crawled up to her face, pulled at her hair.
Feeling like I had somehow inflicted this on Claire, like I had all but driven the woman to the station house and sat her down in the chair to listen to Sammy's confession, I left the screening area. It was as good as over. Davies was writing out the confession. In a few seconds Sammy would sign it, admitting to what he thought was manslaughter but was really felony murder. The prosecutor wouldn't need to prove that Sammy had known it was Ray or that he had intended to kill anyone. Corbin would just have to show the felony and that Ray had died in the course of it.
I walked down the hall, the sound of Claire's cries following me. I opened the door to the second interview room where Vivian still waited staring up angrily at the camera.
"He's confessed," I said.
Air rushed from Vivian in one shuddering breath. She closed her eyes and tears started rolling down her cheeks. "What about Alex?"
"Working on it." I pulled my cell phone out and texted Malkin. When I was done, I put the phone away and held my hand out to Vivian. "Right now, there's someone else who needs you."
Vivian shook her head. "Momma...she thought--"
"Doesn't matter what she thought," I said, my mind instantly going to how my hurt feelings over Dante had kept me away from my own mother for so long. I leaned toward Vivian, keeping my hand out until the girl accepted it.
I guided her to the cubicle and motioned for the cops to clear out. Claire was still curled over herself, sobbing violently. Vivian put a hand to the back of Claire's neck -- something familiar and comforting in the girl's touch or her heat calmed the woman. Claire looked up, her face swollen and wet. She opened her mouth as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out.
Vivian leaned down, wrapping her arms around her mother's shoulders. Claire broke all over again, this time ragged words issuing between the heaving pain.
"I'm so sorry, baby girl."
I left the women alone in the cube. My phone vibrated with a new text as I joined Craig in the hall outside the squad room. I read the message from Alex's new attorney. "Malkin's talking to the prosecutor."
"Man, I wasn't sure Hicks was going to let the kid get interrogated." Craig shook his head, smiling. "How'd you get Davies to force it?"
"Let's just say that I probably burned my bridges with Davies." I looked at Craig. "Maybe yours, too."
He shrugged. "The right person will be sitting in jail tonight. Fuck those two if they don't like being made to do their job."
He pulled his car keys from his jean's pocket. "You ready?"
"I think I'll catch a taxi and pick my car up later." I looked through the glass window into the squad room to where Claire and Vivian still held on to one another. I took my phone back out and powered it off before punching the elevator call button. "Do me a favor?"
Craig nodded.
"Let Dante know."
Chapter Sixteen
In the cab, I started to give the driver momma's address then changed my mind. It was still early, not even one o'clock. I had five more hours before Ivy would need to leave for the day. Right then, I wanted to be alone, somewhere quiet where I could think.
I gave the cabbie the address for Craig's office and picked up my car. Still in the parking garage, I turned my phone back on for a second, saw three calls had come in from Dante and deleted the notices before calling Ivy and telling her I would be home by six but out of pocket until then.
With my cell phone turned off again, I started driving.
I drove for more than an hour, skirting the city on back roads and not knowing where I was going right up until the last mile when I caught sight of the river. I realized then I had been subconsciously making my way to the family boathouse -- only it wasn't ours anymore, hadn't been for a decade.
Approaching the narrow gravel drive that would take me down to the river, I slowed the car. Middle of the day on a Thursday, whoever owned it now was unlikely to be there. I pulled into the drive and followed it to where the rocks and coarse sand gave way to grassy river banks.
Parked in the shade of an old oak, I got out of the car and walked up to the boathouse. The door was shut, the curtains drawn. Still, I knocked and listened for some sign of life inside. When only silence answered me, I took a step back and inspected the structure.
&nb
sp; It looked like someone had painted it this summer. A tidy mix of flowers bordered the whole of the building. The curtains were a white eyelet, letting light into the small interior while keeping its contents safe from prying eyes. Even missing it, I was glad to see the current owners were taking care of the place that held so many fond memories for me.
Bending down to the blue delphiniums that matched the shade of the shutters on the windows, I snapped a blossom off and brought it to my nose. Woven between the delphiniums were white roses. I felt the slow slide of a tear down my cheek. I had selected just these flowers for my bridal bouquet --seeing them here, today especially, was like a hot poker digging at my heart.
Letting the flower fall to the ground, I walked down towards the water and sat where dappled light shimmered across summer grass. I kept the boathouse to my back, trying not to remember the times I had spent inside with Dante. Instead, I thought about Miami, about the job and security I had left behind. I had been a partner in a consulting firm, making good money. Professionally, life had been excellent, but I hadn't been able to convince myself that uprooting momma to Miami was the better choice for her.
Now I wasn't so sure. Miami had more work, more money, a better support network of friends. I would be able to have round the clock care for momma. And I wouldn't have to worry about running into Dante Serrano. I wouldn't have to wonder how he felt, if he was telling me the truth or what, if anything, he wanted from me. I wouldn't have to open the Masonville Times one day and see an engagement notice for Alex and Vivian and remember how, twenty plus years ago, Dante and I had been the ones smiling out from the paper. Most of all, I wouldn't have to know Dante was so close but that he would never bridge the gap between us because he couldn't bring himself to tell Alex the truth, even if he wanted to. Twenty years of silence told me he wouldn't.
Picking up a flat rock, I snapped it at the water and watched it skip three times before sinking.
That would be the hardest part -- waiting each day, wondering if Dante would come at last, the lie undone and the two of us free to start healing the past, only to go to bed each night alone knowing he never would.
I searched for another stone as smooth and flat as the first, the tears flowing freely from my eyes blurring everything to dancing shades of green as the oak's limbs swayed with filtered sunlight.
Behind me, tires crunched over the gravel drive. I wiped at my face. It was bad enough I was trespassing, the owners didn't need to see me crying when they approached to order me off their property. Still fighting the tears, I pretended not to hear the vehicle or the sound of heavy soles over the rocks.
I pretended so hard, I almost had myself convinced that no one was there until a hand came down gently on my shoulder.
"Miss Miller."
It was Alex, out already. I made one last swipe at my cheeks and then turned, forcing a smile onto my face. I looked beyond him to the car he had driven up in. It was a black Impala, Gabriella's most likely. My car blocked the passenger side of the vehicle but I could see Vivian sitting in the driver's seat.
"Out already?" The smile faded from my face and a small measure of guilt washed over me. I should be happy for Alex. He was free. But I didn't want him there -- intruding on my thoughts and the space I had once shared with Dante. Even if I couldn't blame the boy -- and I couldn't -- neither could I forget that he was the innocent cause of all my lost years and a very lonely looking future.
"They released me straight from the hospital." He gestured with the cast on his arm. "I wanted to thank you."
I nodded at Vivian in the car, even as the sight of the girl tore at my heart. "Seeing the two of you together, that's thanks enough."
Or it should have been. But the pure joy seeping from Vivian's face turned my old sorrows fresh in equal measure. It was wrong to begrudge either of them their happiness. But the heart had its own sense of right and wrong and mine felt like it was dissolving in my chest right then.
I looked back to the water, hoping Alex would leave it at that and go.
He sat down on the grass next to me instead and put his good hand over my arm. "It isn't enough."
Trying to will him to leave, it struck me suddenly that Alex shouldn't be there at all. I hadn't told anyone where I was going and this wasn't even my family's property anymore. "How'd you know where to find me?"
"My da..." He stopped and struggled for a second to find the right word and I suddenly knew that Dante had told him about Carl. "Dante said you would be here."
"Your dad," I corrected, my mind reeling at the import of his words.
"Yeah, my dad." He pulled at the grass next to him, still struggling with what to call Dante.
Seeing the confusion in his face and flickering anguish, I imagined for a second Dante looking into Alex's face as he sought the courage to tell the boy. Another wave of guilt, so much larger than the first, washed over me at the thought Dante had told him because of me.
No. I pushed the guilt away, or tried to. He'd had twenty years to do it on my account. More likely the truth had become unavoidable -- it being a matter of days or weeks before some tabloid had a slow news day and started digging around.
Alex caught me watching him and managed a small smile, but I could tell that the information was hurting him. He had gained his freedom only to lose a part of his past. As if he could read my mind, he gave a shrug and covered my hands with his good one.
"I just wanted to say thank you," he told me again. "You not only gave me my freedom back, but now we know who killed Ray." He looked over his shoulder, to the car and the young woman inside, the woman he so clearly loved. "Vivian knows who killed her dad."
I reached up and stroked his cheek once, careful to avoid his still bruised flesh. "She always knew who didn't kill him. She always believed in your innocence, just like your father did."
Alex nodded, bringing his good arm up to hug me as he buried his face for a moment against my shoulder. Another ache -- another reminder of what I'd lost by not having a child of my own because I was still mourning the loss of Dante.
Feeling his tears on my skin, I returned the embrace. And then the hug was over as quickly as it began. Alex got back on his feet, his gaze still thanking me.
I watched him back up a few steps until the ground became too steep and he had to turn around to see where he was walking. I faced the river again, forcing myself to focus on what should have been the simple act of pulling air into my lungs and exhaling. I admonished myself not to cry until I was alone again. The sound of my breathing mingled with Alex's boots on the gravel and the car door shutting a few seconds later. The engine started, followed by the crunch of gravel and the slow fade of the engine's rumble as they left.
Heartache throbbing in my ears, I stopped holding my tears at bay. My throat constricted but, before the first cry could rip through me, I smelled Dante's cologne.
My imagination.
I'm alone.
Forever...through this life and the next.
The scent persisted. I glanced over my shoulder. He was next to me, just inches away, his knees already touching the ground. Our eyes met for an instant, and then I looked away, not knowing what to say or why he was there.
Dante's hands gripped my shoulders. His lips touched my neck. Shivers enveloped me as he brushed his fingertips up the curve of my throat. Cupping the side of my face, he guided my mouth to his.
"You told him?" My question came out before he could kiss me.
Dante nodded.
"But why?"
"How can we have a future if I ask you to hide the past?" He didn't give me time to answer the question. He claimed my mouth, his kiss hard and insistent.
Another shiver passed through me. I shifted until I faced him, our torsos touching as the kiss continued. He threaded his hands tightly through my hair, as if afraid I would be the one to walk away this time. Snaking my arms around him, I clutched the back of his shoulders.
At that moment, I couldn't breathe, didn't care if I
ever drew another breath. I was where I was supposed to be, in Dante's arms.
We fell to the grass, the long kiss breaking into dozens of smaller ones as his mouth journeyed from my lips to my throat and back up. I started crying again and his kisses stopped.
"Shh...baby." He looked as if he had forgotten how to read me, as if he was sure he was losing me all over again and would never get me back this time.
Smiling, I took Dante's face in my hands. He captured the left one and drew it to his chest as his other hand fumbled in his pants' pocket. In the sunlight rippling through the tree, I saw the soft glint of gold, followed by the flash of a modest diamond. Instantly, I recognized the setting even though I had not seen it in two decades.
Gabriella's words of a few days before surfaced in my mind.
He sold everything to pay that woman off...
My chest swelled, knowing then that Gabriella was wrong. Dante had not gotten rid of everything. He had held the ring back, unable to let go, to move on, to forget me.
Sliding the ring over my finger, he rested his forehead against mine. I could see his eyes were just as wet as mine, that his hand trembled just as hard as the one he held.
Hooking and holding my gaze, he made his confession. "In my heart, I've always been married to you, Liv."
I nodded, feeling the same but robbed of the capacity for speech. Smiling, he kissed me then stood and coaxed me in joining him. I looked at the drive, realizing once again he had put himself at my mercy by having someone drop him off. Laughing, I asked him where we were going.
"Inside." Grinning, he pulled the key to the boathouse from his pocket.
"You own it?" Stunned, I stumbled over the words. "How long?"
"Ten years."
I stopped, dizzy and with fresh tears blurring my vision. "The flowers…"
"From your bouquet," he answered. "Every spring for the last ten years I've put a fresh coat of blue and white on the building and replanted the roses and delphiniums to fill any gaps."
Cradling my face, he kissed me. "I hope those are happy tears, love."
I nodded, struck speechless once again.