“I didn’t know until months ago after my mother died. She left me a letter explaining everything. It was a one-night stand that brought me into the world. The only son of that fucking disgusting bastard.”
Megan scanned the room for something, anything to arm herself with. There was nothing to aid her. Megan searched her memory of the events that had taken place since her arrival. “You knew for years who did this to you. Why now? Why start your revenge now?”
Callie stared at her, knowing what he was about to do, so he tolerated her questions. “When I found out he was my biological father, it sickened me. But when Vivian’s mother died—a very suspicious death by the way; the whole town knows she’d never have left her daughter with that pig—I knew Vivian would be next. She worked for me for a long time before I found out. It would have been only a matter of time before he hurt her too, and I refused to let that happen.”
“You—you tried to drown me. That was you, wasn’t it? You threw me in the water with the burlap sack over my head.”
Callie used the barrel of the gun to push hair away from his face. “I knew you’d get out.”
“Then why?”
“You came here like a wounded puppy. Fragile. Hurting. I wanted to make sure you stayed that way.”
“A wounded puppy? So you had someone shoot Clyde too? And what about the lake? Were you the one on the snowmobile? ”
“Interesting when the pieces of the puzzle start to come together, isn’t it? Now, first of all, I don’t hurt dogs. I don’t hurt animals. That’s just cruel.”
“You just hurt humans,” Megan said in a low voice.
Callie snarled, “The judge and his posse weren’t human! Any person who does that to a child—their own child, at that—isn’t human. As for Clyde, I had nothing to do with it. It was just an accident. I told you it was probably some kids trying out their first time at hunting, or some teenage bullshit.”
“Callie, were you the third snowmobiler?” Megan fought to keep her voice from trembling.
He rolled his eyes. “Megan, that fisherman is drunk ninety-nine percent of the year. There wasn’t a third snowmobiler. It was just me and you.”
“How did you get back to the marina so quickly?”
“I know this lake like the back of my hand, and I’m a better snowmobiler than you. Remember, I grew up in these small towns. I know my way around.”
“You know I can’t look the other way on this.”
“I know, which is why it makes this so hard.” And he actually did look upset. “Here’s what I’m thinking. Poor Detective Megan McGinn goes on leave from the force. She’s so terribly distraught over her family tragedy that she decides life isn’t worth living anymore.”
“You think that will actually fly?”
“For a woman with a gun pointed at her, you sure do have a cocky side to you.”
“Actually, Callie, I think you’re in a bit of trouble right now.”
“How’s that?”
“I never keep any of my guns loaded in the house. Would you like a bullet with that?” Megan sprinted for the door, but Callie grabbed her by the back of her hair. He threw the gun to the floor. Megan elbowed him in the ribs. She kicked him in the shins. She used every effort to injure him long enough to get away. All failed. He was simply too strong.
“Not so fast, Megan.” He wrapped his arm around her neck in a chokehold. “Now, Trouble, it seems you’re in a lot of trouble. The gun won’t help me, but this will.” He pulled the hunting knife from the back of his jeans and whispered in her ear, “You were the best fuck I ever had.” He held up the knife and plunged it into her chest.
The pain was beyond imagining. Her chest felt on fire. All of her senses seemed to work in slow motion, and yet she continued to hold onto Callie as she slid down to the floor. She looked up at him. The room was darkening.
“Goodbye, Trouble.”
Megan heard people buzzing around her. “Megan, it’s Detective Krause. Stay with us. The ambulance will be here soon. Stay with us. Give me that rag,” Krause yelled at Michalski. “I need to compress the wound. Jesus Christ, this is a lot of blood.”
Megan whispered. Krause had to lean in. “What? Megan, what did you say?”
“My phone.”
Then life became pitch black.
Forty-Three
Nappa and the Murphys filled the waiting room. Megan was in the operating room for hours before the surgeon came out with an update. The next few hours were critical, he told them. Megan had lost a lot of blood, and the wound was deep. No major organs were damaged, but there was massive internal bleeding that they were trying to stop. She was placed in the ICU. Megan’s neighbor, Jo, a doctor at the hospital, gave them updates periodically. Billie made one of the nurses wheel her down to the waiting room, and she sat with all concerned. Detectives Krause and Michalski arrived a handful of hours later with Vivian.
Nappa immediately asked Krause and Michalski what had happened.
Krause answered, “Vivian found her on the kitchen floor. She texted 911. We saw the address and got right over, hopefully not too late. Detective Nappa, I have to hand it to your partner. She’s one hell of a savvy lady. She recorded everything on her cell phone. We got a full confession.”
“From who?” Nappa and Uncle Mike asked in unison.
“Christopher Callie. He was arrested a few hours ago.”
“That son of a bitch,” Nappa said.
One of the attendings came in and asked if there were family there. It wasn’t as positive as he had hoped. Megan had flat-lined. Though they were able to restart her heart, he suggested it might be time to make peace and sit with her, but only one person at a time.
“Mike, you go,” Aunt Maureen said in a weepy voice. “I can’t see our Meggie like this.”
Uncle Mike cleared his throat. “Sam, I won’t be long. You’re next.”
Nappa nodded, turning toward the window. Not yet, McGinn. Not yet, he thought to himself.
The attending walked Uncle Mike into the intensive care unit. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his eyes. “Hey Meganator, it’s Uncle Mike. We’re all here for you, kiddo.” He looked at Megan hooked up to so many wires, oxygen. He’d never seen her look so helpless, so weak. “You sure go to an extreme to get a nap in, don’t you?” He smiled through the tears running down his face. “Here’s the thing. You can’t give up, kiddo. You’re a McGinn. McGinns don’t give up, so you need to fight this. You got that?” He sat and held her hand for a few minutes, but it proved too difficult to see her this way. “Okay, Nappa is here. I’m sending him in.” Uncle Mike bent over, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “I love you, Meggie.”
Nappa sat down next to Megan just a few minutes later. “Hey, partner.” Nappa choked up and said through a shaky voice, “You’re not going out like this. Not today. There’s a lot more work to do and I can’t find another partner that is as much of a pain in the ass as you are. You hear me, Megan?” Nappa sat holding her hand, wondering if she could hear any of what he was saying. A nurse came in.
“Can she feel anything? I mean, is she in pain?” he asked.
“She’s heavily sedated. We’re making her as comfortable as possible.”
Nappa’s chin began to quiver. “Okay, thank you.”
He’d fallen asleep in the chair holding Megan’s hand. He felt a small squeeze. It was weak but enough to wake him up. “McGinn, are you awake?”
Nappa could see she was trying to open her eyes, but it was too much for her. She released a small moan, then she went back to sleep. Nappa ran outside to the desk. “We need a doctor in here! We need a doctor!”
Uncle Mike and Aunt Maureen ran out of the waiting room. “Sam, what’s going on?”
“Mike, she squeezed my hand! She squeezed my hand!”
Aunt Maureen burst into tears. Everyone in the room began hu
gging one another as if they’d been friends for years. Doctors and nurses filled Megan’s room, shouting orders and medical jargon back and forth. A nurse asked for everyone to return to the waiting area. A half-hour later, the surgeon entered. Hanging on his every word, they listened.
“There is in no clear explanation, but she is beginning to respond.” More hugs and tears of happiness flowed. “She seems to have a very strong will to live. She still has a long road ahead of her.”
“But you think she’ll be all right?” Nappa asked.
The surgeon looked just as shocked as anyone. “I think there is a very strong chance she’ll make a recovery.”
“Can we go in and see her?” Aunt Maureen asked.
“In a few hours. We gave her more pain medication so she’s sleeping right now.”
Uncle Mike gave Nappa a bear hug. “Can’t keep that girl down!”
Forty-Four
It was a sunny winter day on Lake Hopatcong, cold as usual, but with bright skies. Megan sat on the couch staring out at the beautiful day. Her incision was still very tender, but she was out of the hospital and back with Clyde and over a dozen get-well wishes, flowers, and cards on the mantel. But there was one card she still needed to read and now she felt ready to do so.
Megan gingerly got up from the couch and took the letter Nappa had brought to her when he visited the lake. It was from Mrs. McAllister, the mother of the victim in her last case. She opened it.
Dear Detective Megan,
I hope this note finds you well, though given the painful situation you’ve just gone through, I’m sure you are in the middle of loss as I was when Shannon was murdered. I wish you all my condolences and prayers. I’m not sure this will help, since I feel I will continue to mourn my daughter until God allows me to see her again someday. I want you to remember something, for when the time is right. We are bigger than our pain. We are bigger than our suffering. Trust that everything happens for a reason, and know you are loved.
Best,
MaryEllen McAllister
I know I’m loved, Megan thought to herself, then proudly displayed the card on the mantel.
There was a knock at the front door. Since moving around was still a bit of a challenge and she knew who it was, she yelled, “Come on in.”
Leigh and Jo entered. Leigh held another lasagna or stew or one of the many things she’d made for Megan during the weeks following the stabbing. Jo brought medical supplies; she’d put herself in charge of changing Megan’s bandages.
“Hey there, patient. How’s the pain?” Jo asked as she began feeling Megan’s abdomen.
“Sore, but Vicodin is my new best friend.” Megan smiled.
Leigh told Megan she’d put the food in the refrigerator.
“I’m not sure there’s enough room.” Megan wasn’t in a comfortable position and had to resituate herself. “Hey, thank you again for taking care of Clyde while I was in the hospital.”
“Not a problem. He was a joy,” Leigh answered. “Megan, I have a question. I hope it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Isn’t it a little uneasy to be here, considering everything that happened?”
“I guess it was a little at first, but I’m okay with it now. I mean, I can’t change what happened and I have this lovely scar to forever remind me, so I had to make peace with it.”
They both nodded and Jo said, “That makes sense.” She clasped her hands. “You’re set. Everything is looking good. I’ve got to get this one to a doctor’s appointment now.”
“Thanks for coming by. Hey, how’s Billie?”
“I think she’ll be getting off crutches next week. She really wants to be able to get down that driveway and see you. We’ll check back with you tomorrow, okay?”
Leigh popped her head back into the house before closing the door. “Give us a call if you need anything!”
Megan noticed Jo had left her winter gloves on the coffee table and made a mental note to text her later. Megan remained on the couch flipping through channels on the muted television. She stopped when she saw Phillip Thompson on the screen surrounded by reporters. She knew Callie had retained him for his defense and was a bit surprised he stopped to answer questions. Then she remembered what a media whore he was while working with Vivian. He made a statement that his client was the victim in this circumstance. Megan winced hearing that comment. Tell that to the stitches in my gut, she thought to herself.
“He’ll plead insanity or PTSD.” A part of Megan hoped Callie would, because he was broken. She just never saw how fractured he really was. The easy smile, the amiable nature. It was all a facade. Megan glanced over at Clyde. He was sleeping in front of the fireplace. His fur had begun to grow back where he’d been wounded. Megan recalled that Clyde had never really warmed up to Callie. At the time, she’d assumed he was jealous of the attention Megan gave the man. Dogs really did know best.
There was a knock at the door. Megan figured Jo had remembered she left her gloves behind. “Come on in. It’s open. Hey, you forgot your gloves, they’re over here.”
“Ms. McGinn? Do you mind if I come in?”
Duane Baker.
Megan wanted to rise but knew the sudden movement would be a bad idea. She had not expected this visit. “Oh, um sure, come on in. I thought you were my neighbor from down the street.”
“You’re not too tired? I won’t stay long.” He was a bit sheepish entering. “I would have come by sooner, but I knew you probably needed your rest.”
She smiled. “That’s okay. Have a seat.”
Clyde greeted Duane with his tail wagging and nudged his head underneath his arm for the demanded scratching of the head. Megan noted Clyde’s approval of Duane.
“Well, I wanted to say thank you, not just for getting me out of jail and taking a knife for it, but for coming by to see my mom when I was arrested. She told me.”
Megan remembered the day very well. “You’re welcome.”
“How’s the gut?”
“Sore, but I’m getting there.”
There was an awkward silence.
“So, from what I hear, I guess you saw some of the tapes from the judge’s house.”
She stared at Duane and saw in his eyes the same pain she’d seen in Callie’s. “Yes, I did. I didn’t see any faces, but yes, I saw the violence.”
Duane morphed from tough biker dude to what Megan imagined was the young boy being victimized. His eyes welled and he coughed back his emotion. It was a weak attempt, but he tried. “It was a long time ago. Some days it feels like yesterday. Some days I’m far away from those times, but they’re never gone. Ever.” He stood up and walked over to the bay window. Staring out at the lake, he continued what seemed like a confession. But Megan knew there was nothing to confess when you’re the casualty. “I wonder what direction my life would have taken if that hadn’t happened. Maybe I would have turned into a good guy, a better son, not an angry ex-con who does everything wrong.”
“Duane, it’s not too late. It’s never too late to go get help, to make different choices. And it seems to me you’re a pretty damn good son. You take care of your mom, her business. Those are good qualities.”
He turned to Megan and with a sad sincerity answered, “Something died in me in that room. There are nights when the nightmares are so real I wake up screaming like a little boy.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When it came out that the judge had been murdered, did you think it was Callie?” Megan was nervous she might be overstepping with such a personal question.
Duane pondered Megan’s question. “No, actually, I didn’t. I never thought he would murder someone, not that the bastard didn’t deserve it. Then again, I never thought he was the type of guy to set someone up like he did to me. So what the fuck do
I know?”
Megan offered a knowing smile.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you do after being stabbed. See you around,” Duane said.
“See you around.” Megan stopped him before leaving. “Hey, Duane.”
“Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, I knew it wasn’t you. Not that I didn’t suspect it once or twice, but I knew. Call it a gut feeling. And it’s not Ms. McGinn, it’s Megan.”
“I prefer Detective McGinn.” Duane shut the door, and Megan whispered to Clyde, “So do I.”
Megan’s cell rang. She didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway.
“Detective McGinn?”
Due to the buzz from the Vicodin she’d popped a half an hour previously, Megan had a hard time identifying the voice. This was also the first time Detective Krause had referred to her in a professional manner. “Detective Krause, what can I do for you?”
“Actually, I was just calling to see how you were doing.”
High as a kite. “Each day is getting better.”
“That’s good, that’s good.”
No matter how stoned Megan was feeling, she could sense the awkward silence while Krause was forming her next sentence.
“Well, we have three out of the five molesters. There are still two left.”
“Put pressure on the councilman,” Megan suggested.
“I would, but apparently he’s pretty much a vegetable. He stroked out a while back. Any thoughts on how to start the search for the last two?”
Megan knew it was a large slice of humble pie for Krause to ask the question, but she still had to give her a hard time. “Well, I would help, but New Jersey is your jurisdiction. I would be overstepping my boundaries by getting involved.”
“It didn’t stop you before!”
“True.” Megan imagined what she would do if she were still working the case. “First, go back to the judge’s early life, his college years. These sick bastards bond early. See if any of them have a local connection. I would also check local banks to see if anyone, specifically men, have withdrawn large sums of money as of the date the judge was found in the lake. What you have going for you is they’re scared and running. They would have wanted to escape any connection with him and the scandal. Krause, everyone leaves some sort of path, you have that in your favor. I would also––gently––speak to Duane Baker. He might know of other victims besides Chris Callie. If you can find more victims, they might be able to tell you something. They’ll fight it, so use your gentle kid-gloves approach.” Megan couldn’t help but laugh at that last thought.
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