After That Night

by Ann Evans

  He didn’t have to explain anything. Modern technology intervened. His cell phone, buried in the pool of their clothing, rang.

  Sitting up, he found it and flipped it open. Dale Damron was on the other end. The conversation lasted less than a minute, then Mark immediately began sorting through their clothes.

  “We have to go,” he told her as he pulled on his shirt.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Harv Dellarubio’s been taken to the hospital. He tried to kill himself.”

  MARK DROPPED HER off at her house. Neither of them spoke much. The interior of the car marooned them in darkness, hiding so much, but he had a feeling there were plenty of things she wanted to say. Now just didn’t seem the right time.

  When she started to exit the car, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “We need to talk,” he told her.

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be at the hospital. Let me take you out to breakfast tomorrow.”

  “I can’t. I told Vic I’d come into the office first thing. As it is, I’m going to have to break my promise to the boys to take them to Six Flags.”

  “It seems a shame to disappoint them.”

  “It can’t be helped.”

  “Don’t cancel it. Let me take them instead.”

  “I don’t know… The boys love Six Flags, and they can be a handful when they’re excited.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “And they don’t really know you that well,” she said. “They tend to like the usual family outings to stay…just family.”

  “All the more reason for the three of us to go together. It will give us a chance to get more comfortable with each other. Then we could have dinner tomorrow night. Just the two of us.”

  “All right,” she agreed with a smile. “Pick them up at nine.”

  He reached over, cupped the back of her neck and pulled her close for a quick kiss. “Tomorrow night. Wear something festive.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WITH HALLOWEEN less than two weeks away, Six Flags over Georgia was crowded and dripping with decorations. Wispy ghosts hung from trees, skeletons popped out of unearthed coffins. Witches, headless monks and mummys trailing gauze wandered the park in search of victims to terrify.

  Personally Mark thought it was all too intense for younger children, but what did he really know? Pete and J.D. sure seemed to love it.

  So far the day had gone well. He hadn’t been to a place like this since high school, and when the boys found out he was a novice, they took over. Instead of following the plan he’d carefully laid out from the park map, they charged off toward their personal favorites, rides that bogged down quickly with long lines. Their haphazard route made no sense to Mark’s logical mind, but their zeal made complaining impossible.

  Leading him from ride to ride, Pete and J.D. made sure he had the best seat, pointed out every special effect they thought he might miss, warned him when the scariest moments were coming in the haunted house. All Mark had to do was look thrilled, which, he discovered, was easy and fun.

  They ate hamburgers and French fries for lunch, but by early afternoon they were ready for another break. They ordered ice cream from an outdoor vendor and sat on a picnic bench next to a hillside covered in fake tombstones that stood like giant chessmen.

  Mark was halfway through a hot-fudge sundae when his cell phone rang. Occasionally during the day he’d had to take quick calls, and with a regretful look at the boys, he answered it.

  It was Dale, and Mark prayed it wasn’t bad news. Harv Dellarubio’s stomach had been pumped clean of the sleeping pills he’d taken. When Mark had left the hospital late last night, everything had seemed fine.

  He got right to the point. “How is he?”

  “He’s all right,” Dale said.

  Something in his voice made Mark frown into the receiver. “Then what’s the matter?”

  There was a short silence. “Mark, I think I should resign.”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

  Pete and J.D. had polished off their cones. Mark watched them wriggle impatiently on their seats as he waited for Dale to elaborate.

  “This whole thing with Harv,” Dale began, “it’s really my fault.”

  “I don’t see how. You didn’t make him swallow a bottle of pills.”

  “No, but if I’d been more on top of what he was doing in the office, it might never have come to this.”

  “Dale, come on. You heard what the cops said. It’s not that unusual. Look at the papers. With what’s been happening lately—so many execs playing fast and loose with company funds—we’re lucky this is all we have to deal with. Even Weatherwax Corp. went through this sort of thing last year. Hold on a minute.”

  Evidently tired of waiting for Mark to complete the call, Pete was making motions that he and J.D. wanted to wander up on the hillside to inspect some of the tombstones. Mark nodded.

  “Stay where I can see you,” he said.

  They raced off toward the break in the stone wall. While Mark absently watched them investigate the fake graveyard, he listened to Dale explain how he’d done a lot of soul-searching during the night. How he felt he’d let Mark down. How he couldn’t shake the feeling that in some way he’d been less than vigilant in office procedures and so Harv had found it easy to embezzle.

  Dale was fully wound up. He went on and on, and when he finally paused for breath, Mark took the opportunity to say, “That’s a load of crap.”

  “I’m serious. You heard Harv tell us that making those department cuts last year helped him keep what he was doing under wraps. I made those cuts, Mark. I’m responsible.”

  “And who told you to make those cuts? Me. Does that mean I should resign, too? You’re internalizing this too much.”

  The boys were back now. J.D. frowned at him, and Pete looked blatantly hostile at finding Mark still on the phone. The kid opened his mouth to say something. Mark lifted his hand to stop him, then held up one finger, indicating he’d be done in just a minute. Pete’s features became even surlier, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Mark turned his back on them, hunching over the table so that no one could overhear his conversation. “For God’s sake, Dale. Dellarubio stole half a million dollars from the company. The investigator said whatever embezzlers admit to taking, the real figure is probably twenty-five percent more. The guy needs help. I’m sorry he didn’t see any other way out than taking an overdose, but we didn’t bring him to that point. He did it to himself. Hell, we haven’t even said we’re going to prosecute yet.”

  “I still think I should resign.”

  “Well, I won’t accept it, dammit. Get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow, and I’ll give you a dozen reasons why I need you to stay. All right?”

  Dale agreed reluctantly. Mark snapped the phone closed before the man had a chance to change his mind. He’d have to apologize to the boys for taking so long. Surely, without giving them any of the nasty details, he could make them see he’d had no choice.

  He swung back around. Neither Pete or J.D. were anywhere in sight.

  HE WAS JUST LIKE Daddy, Pete thought as he pushed through the wave of human traffic coming toward him.

  He’d been thinking that Mark Bishop was different, but he wasn’t. Daddy had always been more interested in doing anything other than spending time with him and J.D. The family had never gone anywhere without his father getting bored with them and talking on his cell phone or cutting short the outing.

  And in spite of the way the day had started out, it looked like Mark thought that way, too. He might not be daddy material, after all. Maybe Mom had tricked him into taking them to the park today. He probably couldn’t wait to dump them back home.

  “Pete! Stop!” J.D. hollered behind him.

  Petey swung around on his brother so suddenly that J.D. plowed into his back. “Stop dragging your feet, runt. The line for Raging Rapids is gonna be a mile long by the time we get
there.”

  “We shouldn’t have left Mark,” J.D. said with a worried look toward the ice-cream stand. With all the people crowding the walkway, they couldn’t see much.

  “Why? He doesn’t want to be with us. We’re just a lot of bother. He’s got business to take care of, or didn’t you see?”

  “You’re acting stupid. And Mark’s not gonna like that we ran off and left him.”

  “Then go back if you want.”

  Pete took off down the walkway again, knowing J.D. would follow. J.D. always did what Pete said, even when he didn’t really want to.

  Sure enough, he heard J.D. call after him. “Petey, wait!”

  They reached a narrow bridge that crossed a small stream, the turnoff to the Raging Rapids ride. Everyone moved like turtles, and in front of him some stupid girl blocked the way, crying because she’d dropped her box of popcorn.

  Impatiently Pete cut away from the crowd and ducked under the railing. A grassy slope led a few feet down to the stream, with another slope leading back up on the other side. Nobody was supposed to take that shortcut—his mom had told him he’d better never try a stunt like that—but he’d been to this park often enough to see that plenty of people did it when they got tired of waiting for slowpokes.

  The dirt under the grass was looser than he expected, making his feet slide a little out from under him. He reached the bottom and was about to holler over his shoulder for J.D. to be careful when he heard his brother’s cry.

  He turned just in time to watch J.D. tumble headfirst down the slope like a toy. He landed a few feet away, facedown in the water.

  Petey scrambled around fake boulders to reach his brother. “J.D.! J.D.!” he screamed. “Somebody help!”

  He splashed into the stream and yanked J.D. onto the bank. J.D.’s eyes were closed. There was watery blood all over his face. Petey thought he might be sick right there and then.

  He’d killed his brother.

  MARK SPENT a few minutes checking out the area around the ice-cream stand to no avail. He was more annoyed than frightened. This morning they’d all agreed to stick together. If the boys had wandered off and gotten lost, it surely wouldn’t take long to find them. The park probably dealt with this kind of problem all the time.

  Maybe Pete and J.D. were headed toward the Raging Rapids ride—it was where they’d wanted to go to next. He’d give them hell for running off this way. He went quickly in that direction, scanning the crowd as he pushed through them.

  By the time he reached the bridge over the stream, he became aware that the crowd seemed to have come to a dead halt. Something was going on, maybe street performers. The boys could be waiting for him here.

  But as he glanced around, he heard snatches of conversation.

  “…some kid fell down the hill. They never listen…”

  “I heard he was underwater for a long time…”

  “Why weren’t his parents watching him?”

  “…poor little guy…”

  Mark’s heart began galloping in his throat. He felt ice-cold suddenly and shoved his way toward the top of the slope. His breath stalled as he saw Petey at the bottom, surrounded by a small knot of bystanders.

  And J.D. lying on the bank beside him, not moving.

  Mark plunged down the incline. He pushed strangers out of the way and didn’t stop until he was finally able to kneel at J.D.’s side.

  The boy was pale and unconscious. But breathing, thank God.

  Mark swiped wet hair from J.D.’s forehead, careful not to touch a nasty-looking bruise that had already begun to bloom. “J.D.? Wake up, buddy.”

  “I don’t think you should touch him,” someone said. “Paramedics are on the way. Is he your kid?”

  “My son,” Mark said without looking up.

  “He’s not your son! He’s my brother!” Pete shouted at him. Closer now, Mark could see that Pete’s face was streaked with tears, pale with the same fear that had a stranglehold on Mark. “He’s dead!” Pete cried hysterically. “He trusted you, and it’s all your fault!”

  In the face of Pete’s angry hysteria, Mark was speechless, but he couldn’t deal with that now. He struggled to recall everything he’d learned about what was the most appropriate action to take.

  Help me, God. Tell me what I should do.

  Luckily the park’s emergency crew arrived just then and immediately took over. Mark backed off so they could do their job, his legs feeling as though they’d turned to oatmeal.

  Pete started to move forward, and Mark hauled him back, pulling him out of the way. The boy struggled against him for a moment, then subsided.

  Eventually they got J.D. back up the slope. The paramedics questioned Pete about how long his little brother had been facedown in the water. Mark knew they must be worried about the possibility of brain damage if he’d been without oxygen too long. Mark’s gut was clenched so tightly he couldn’t breathe.

  “They’ll take him to Atlanta General,” one of the paramedics told Mark. “The park will drive you there so you can meet up with the ambulance. Is there someone you should call?”

  Unable to take his eyes off J.D.’s still form, Mark nodded.

  Jenna. He had to call Jenna.

  But dear God, how was he going to find the words to tell her?

  THE WAIT WAS agonizing, like some grotesque enemy.

  The emergency room of Atlanta General was full of patients. Everywhere Mark looked were ominous signs of just how desperate the situation could be. Blood-spattered, empty stretchers. Nurses hurrying back and forth between examining rooms. Someone crying uncontrollably, the sobs climbing to a new plateau every few minutes.

  With Jenna’s health scare, Harv Dellarubio’s suicide attempt yesterday and now this, Mark felt he’d had more than his share of hospitals lately.

  In a chair beside him in the waiting room, Pete sat stone-silent, apparently in shock. Mark could understand that. When they’d first arrived, he’d felt a strange, stifling sensation seizing him by the throat. But after a while, he didn’t feel anything but numb.

  Jenna should be here soon. He’d called her house, told her father briefly what had happened and asked him to see to it she got to the hospital as quickly as possible. Driving herself here alone, with all kinds of horrible scenarios probably circling her brain, seemed too much for one person to bear, and Mark’s guilt increased tenfold.

  He didn’t know what to say to her. How could a couple of minutes of inattention produce such potential for disaster? What excuse could he offer?

  The truth stared him in the face. There was none.

  Your fault, you bastard. Couldn’t you see this coming? What did you expect?

  In crazy, unguarded moments lately he had let himself imagine something else for his life. Wonderful years with Jenna as his wife, her sons coming to think of him as their father, a baby to bring them even closer. Maybe another one a few years later. Last night—it seemed so long ago now!—he’d even envisioned himself seated beside her on the porch swing, enjoying the evening breeze. He’d never anticipated miracles, but that kind of simple, domestic bliss wasn’t so preposterous, was it?

  He should have known better. And right now, with J.D.’s life hanging in the balance, he had to rip open the scarred-over hurts that had been sleeping for years and simply face facts.

  He was his father’s son.

  The outer E.R. doors opened with a whoosh, and Jenna, her brother Christopher and her father rushed in. Mark stood. Petey sprang out of the chair and ran to his mother, slamming against her and clinging.

  She cupped his cheek and kissed him, then made a beeline for Mark. Her dark eyes, full of fear, met his. “Tell me,” she said.

  “The doctor is still with him. There’s no word yet.”

  Her lips went white, and he thought she was struggling against the urge to burst into tears. Both her father and brother looked at him silently. If they were casting any blame on him, Mark couldn’t see it.

  Christopher squeezed his siste
r’s shoulder. “I’ll check in at the nurses’ desk. Let them know we’re here.”

  Jenna nodded absently. Tucked against her side, her older son was beginning to cry softly. She bent to catch his face in her hands. “Petey, stop crying,” she said with gentle command. “Your brother is going to be fine.”

  Petey glared at Mark. “I hate you,” he said explosively. “It’s all your fault.”

  Jenna lifted candid, troubled eyes to Mark. He felt as though his blood was corroding.

  “Jenna…” he began quietly, and could go no further. He wanted to hold her, to explain, but didn’t dare.

  “No, it’s all right,” she said, and Mark wondered if he imagined the tiniest hesitation in her voice. She seemed a little bewildered, as though trying to put the pieces together. “He’s just frightened.”

  She led Pete back over to the line of chairs, and they sat down together. Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned against the wall behind her, looking scared. Pete ducked his head into her stomach and refused to budge. Her father sat next to her, hunched over and suddenly looking every one of his advanced years. Pretty soon Christopher joined them.

  Security from the park showed up to fill out an incident report. Mark pulled the man into a quiet corner and answered his questions as best he could. Every so often he glanced in the direction of Jenna and her family, but he no longer felt as though he was one of them. They’d become like people in a play.

  Just when he thought that he couldn’t stand waiting a moment longer, that he would get up and raise holy hell if someone didn’t come out right now and tell them what was happening, the doctor pushed through the double doors. Everyone rose, expectant and fearful. As Mark approached, the man was just giving them the news.

  Except for a small cut on his forehead and a couple of bumps and bruises, J.D. was fine.