I nod and amble away. That went better than anticipated. Now hopefully she'll read the letter, realize she's angry at the wrong people, and rejoin us. I choose a pew at the very back to watch those who enter, but the one I want to arrive doesn't. Stupid respectful bastard. Ten minutes after I arrive, the priest takes his position behind the pulpit and people sit. As the priest begins his sermon, my nervous tension raises a notch. I thought for sure he'd be here. I need him to be here.
The sermon is short and sweet. Time for the eulogies. Brendan's brother Martin is first. He speaks of their growing up in the suburbs of Jericho and happy afternoons playing football. Poor Martin breaks down in the middle of the speech and takes a few seconds to collect himself. God, I hate funerals so fucking much. I start wiggling around in my seat like a Mexican Jumping Bean. I can't stop it. The people around me keep glaring. I would too. Rudeness should be frowned upon. Yeah, this was a bad idea. I did what I came to do. I can leave now before I have a freak out as I did at the last two funerals I've attended.
I wait until Martin finishes so as not to been seen as completely rude, and while the priest announces the next eulogizer, I get up and make my way down the pew. More glares follow. When I reach the large reception area, also filled with flowers and pictures of Brendan, I take a deep breath. I lasted longer that I thought I would.
Quick movement to my left of the lobby draws my attention. I knew it. I'd recognize that thin frame and dark hair anywhere. He's rushing down the hall toward the side exit. He must have been watching the funeral from the door and took off when he saw me get up. I'm right. He turns, sets eyes on me, and quickens his pace. I can't shout in church but I can run. I kick off my heels, pick them up, and take off after him. He's out the door when I'm halfway up. By the time I'm through it too, he's climbing into a cab. A few vultures snap my picture and shout questions, but I plow through them to reach the cab. Just as the car starts moving, I throw open the back door and it comes to a skidding stop.
"Lady, what are you--" the driver says.
"Sorry," I say, out of breath. "Keep driving."
The cabbie glances at Jem. "It's fine." The driver turns back around and pulls away from the curb again. "What are you doing?" Jem whispers. "We shouldn't be seen together."
"I had to talk to you, I'm sorry," I whisper back. "I figured it out."
"What?"
"Your brother. How he learned about our friend. The real reason for his visit. He put cameras and microphones all over my house. He saw our friend enter a room he couldn't have known about."
Jem's silent, then says, "It's logical. Have you removed them yet?"
"I considered it, but…you know what this means, right?" He shakes his head no. "We have the upper hand. He doesn't know we know. We're a step ahead."
He stares at me, eyes slowly narrowing. "You have a plan."
"Hell, yes. Someone very smart and very ruthless reminded me of something. Pride is the deadliest sin of all because those afflicted rarely realize they are. Hubris has taken down many a great man. It's gonna take down your brother too. We've just got to give him exactly what he wants."
"And what is that?" Jem asks with trepidation.
"You, hero." I grin. "You. I'm going to destroy your life."
And it's gonna be a hell of a show.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Center Ring
The stage is set, the costumes ready, the cameras are in place, now I simply have to wait for the players. Who are late. If they show up at all. Jem seemed cautiously optimistic this will work, but since he's the one who'll suffer the most, I understand his reluctance to fully commit. Lexie's the wild card. God, please let her show up. Operation Three-Ring Circus needs her.
I'm exhausted. Five hours of flying, a funeral, the realization I'm living in a fishbowl, fear this won't work as planned, it's all caught up with me. I don't even have the energy to change from my funeral clothes. Dobbs drove me home, and I came right downstairs to the lair to "work," pretending to review footage around the church. I've never been much of an actress so even this farce is taking a lot out of me. They need to get here before I fall asleep on Doris or run out of fake things to do. I don't know, maybe this whole thing is insane. Cain'll see right through it in five seconds flat. Of course that--
I sense someone staring at me and pivot around in my chair. Jem's still dressed in his clothes from earlier as well. I don't stop my smile. And it's show time. "Jem. You came." I rise. "Thank you."
"Three heads are better than one."
"Oh. Right," I say, sounding a little disappointed. I sit again. "I was just, uh, going over the memorial footage. I don't think he was there today."
"Should you be using the computer?"
"Lizard and I wiped everything. It's safe now."
Jem ambles over, standing close next to me and resting his hand on the back of the chair. I visibly tense and glance at him. "I can review it. If he did come, he would have been in disguise. I'd recognize him before you would."
"Good idea." I click the mouse and rewind the footage. "So, how are you? I didn't get to ask earlier before you kicked me out of your cab."
"Yes, I apologize for being so abrupt. I just didn't want--"
"I know. Keeping your distance in public. I shouldn't have done it." I pause to steal another glimpse of him. "So. How are you?"
"Some days are better than others. I alternate between melancholy and infuriated on an hourly basis. You of all people know how it is when you…lose a best friend. I just, I sincerely hope I didn't lose them both. She is coming, correct?"
"I-I really don't know. I just gave her the note, I didn't see her read it. If she doesn't, then we'll just…come up with something together."
"Yes," he says with little enthusiasm. "Suppose there'd be no other choice."
Once again, I don't hide my displeasure, nose crinkling as if he just shoved literal shit under it instead of emotional shit. "The footage is cued up." I rise and allow him to sit in my place. I take his former position, getting as close as I can without touching him. Jem glances up at me giving me an uncomfortable smile. "Do you think he was there?"
"Possibly. Him or a minion."
"Ryder sent Grace to Rebecca's with a camera in her pin. Jordan might have done the same. He gets to revel in the misery without any of the risk."
"I should have stayed longer. Done my job better. I let my emotions get the better of me."
"It was your best friend's funeral. Of course work wasn't on the forefront of your mind."
He gives me a genuine smile. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Always knowing the correct thing to say. For not blaming me. For being on my side, even though you shouldn't be."
I force a blush. "Well, Justin always said I was loyal to a fault. I'm only that way when the person's earned it though."
"I'm, uh, honored you count me in the same regard as Justin."
"You're welcome," I say, beaming at him with admiration.
Jem smiles nervously and looks back at the computer. "Um, would you mind getting me some coffee? I, um, want to finish this tonight."
"Of course." Like a dutiful love slave, I totter to the machine and start preparing his coffee. God, please let Lexie show up. I don't know how much longer I can keep up this charade tonight. I return with our coffees. "Here. Just how you like it."
"Thank you," he says with a sip.
After pulling up a chair, I sit next to him to watch the footage. Occasionally, I point to someone who could be Jordan just to make myself relevant while sneaking a coy glance at Jem. After ten minutes of this bullshit I'm getting nervous. She isn't coming. She needs to come. The wheels spin in my mind, attempting to think up ways to salvage this. Postpone so I can work on her? We've already begun. Jem meets my glimpse with a concerned one. He's thinking the same thing. She's abandoned us. She has to--
Jem's head whips toward the beach tunnel. I turn just as Lexie, dressed in jeans and a red sweater, steps into view. She stare
s at us, mouth vice tight. "Well. Aren't you two cozy?" she asks with a sneer.
"Lexie," Jem says breathlessly as he rises.
"You didn't mention he'd be here," she says, ignoring him. She removes the note from her pocket. "Though you didn't say a lot in the note. But I guess its good you're both here. I only have to say this once. I'm done."
"Lexie…"
"Shut up, Jem. You do not get to talk to me ever again," she says, nostrils flaring. "You are as dead to me as my husband is. He…we trusted you. With our lives. And you lied to us! You had him! You knew what he was capable of, and you let him go! This, all of this, is on you."
I take a step. "Lexie, stop."
"Oh, shut up Joanna. If you had half a brain, and weren't thinking with your pussy, you'd do what I am and run the fucking other way from him as far and fast as possible. Not concocting harebrained," she crumples the note and tosses it at us, "stupid, fucking schemes to trap a psychopath. Because no matter how much you want him to be Justin, he never will be. Given the choice between you and his brother, you will lose every time. My husband is proof of that."
"Lexie, shut up," I say through gritted teeth while signaling to the computer with my eyes.
"What? Can't handle some down home truth?" Face hard as stone she stalks toward me. Her cold eyes bore into mine. "Well, tough shit. Here it is. You will not win against him," she says, drawing out every word. "You will die. So whatever you're thinking of doing? Don't. It will not work. Run. Just run. Run for your fucking life away from this man. While you still can. Just run and do not look back. I'm not." She wipes a falling tear from her cheek with a trembling hand. My entire body has knotted itself up. "I'm sorry. Good luck." She turns on her heels and starts back the way she came.
With a near panicked expression, Jem glances at me but finds a similar expression. He strides toward Lexie. "Lex, please. We need you. Don't--" He touches her shoulder. Out of nowhere, she pivots around and decks him in the jaw. I gasp as he crashes to the ground.
"Don't touch me! You have no right to touch me!" she shouts.
I dash over to the man. "I'm sorry," he says as I help him up. "I didn't…I'm sorry."
Lexie scoffs, voice cracking. "Not good enough. Nowhere near good enough. But you never were, were you Jem? Not strong enough, not brave enough, and sure as hell not honorable enough. I just wish I'd seen it years ago as clear as I do now."
She takes a step toward the door before I rush in front of her to stop her. "What about Cain?" I whisper. "Don't you want to see him brought to justice? We can't do it without you. Just listen--"
"Don't you get it?" she says, voice breaking with emotion. "You can't do it period, Jo. And even if you could…I'm done. I've given enough. I'm not going out like Justin and Brendan. I'm not. Not for you, not for anyone. Keep me out of this." She kisses my cheek. "I'm sorry." And with that she lifts off the ground and flies down the tunnel.
My mouth hangs open from shock. That was…horrible. God awful. I take a moment to compose myself before turning to an equally wide-eyed Jem. "What do we--" he begins.
"Let's get some ice on your jaw," I cut in. "Sit on the couch."
Still a little dazed, he obeys as I get the ice pack out of the first-aid kit. "Just keep going, Jo," I whisper to myself.
Jem cups his jaw and looking at me expectantly when I sit beside him. "What do we--" he whispers.
"Keep going," I whisper back. "Here."
He takes the pack and holds it to the side of his face. "Thank you," he says loudly.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"It just aches. She didn't--"
"Not what I meant. Are you okay?"
"I…understand."
"She didn't mean it. Not really."
"She did. And she's right. If I had just been honest, with them, with myself, we might not be in this untenable situation. Whenever it comes time for me to…vacate him from my life, I can't do it. Maybe I don't want to," he admits, voice quaking. "Maybe…deep down…I need him. He's been the one constant in my life. And no matter how many heinous acts he's committed, I can't…believe that little boy who stood up for me, who comforted me, who protected me, is dead. That love came from somewhere. He has to still be in there somewhere."
I scoot closer to him and take his free hand. "Jem, I know you want to believe that. I would too. But…Jordan killed that little boy a long time ago. If he ever really existed. Sociopaths are born that way. They cannot change."
"You didn't know him then."
"I know him now. He blew up a bridge with innocent people on it. He put me in the hospital. He murdered your best friend. Uma." I shrug. "And you in a sense. You're the biggest victim of us all. That man tortured you, tormented you, molested you. He's killed you in all but body. He keeps you from happiness. From friendship." I meet his eyes. "From love. Who but a monster would do that?" I caress his good cheek, and he tenses. "But I'll help you stop him. I'm all yours. If you want me."
"Joanna, I--"
My kiss stops his words. I give it my all, but he doesn't kiss me back. His lips remain rigid under mine. After a few seconds I break away, eyes narrowed in confusion. Jem just hangs his head. "What? What is it?" I ask.
"I…don't-don't do that."
"What? Why-why not? No one's here. No one will see us."
"It's not…" He stands. "I should go."
He makes it one step toward the exit before I leap up to block his path. "No. Don't. Please. Don't leave me."
"Joanna, I-I don't want to hurt your feelings."
"What do you mean? Why would you hurt my feelings?"
"Because I don't…share them," he says hesitantly. "I'm sorry."
My face falls. "What? No, you…I've seen the way you look at me. How you are around me. I've felt it," I say, agitated.
"No, I-I don't…" He looks horrified, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. "I'm sorry. You're my friend, without question. I care about you. Very much. I probably wouldn't have gotten through this without you. Really. I value you, so much. I just…don't think of you in that way. I'm sorry."
For once having a surplus of rage comes in handy. I unleash the flames. All through me steam practically shoots from my ears as real tears fill my eyes. "What?" I ask, voice cracking again. "No, you…no. You…" I glare at him hard enough to cut diamonds. "What? I'm not good enough for you or something?"
"No! No, I…" He tries to touch me, but I recoil.
Vibrating with anger and torment, I take a step away. "You don't think I'm good enough for you? I am the one who has stood by your side through all of this! I-I-I have defended you, lied to people I care about for you, been your support, your rock, and you…" I chuckle and run my hands through my hair as I force a horrible realization into my mind. "I'm never enough, am I? Not pretty enough, not couth enough, not…" I swallow the rest of my words. "Get out."
"Joanna, please. I'm--"
"Get the fuck out of my house!" I shriek at the top of my lungs. "Please. Fuck. Go. Just go."
"I'm sorry," he whispers desperately before backing away. Like Lexie before him, he flies out.
Even when he's gone I just stand staring at the spot he was in with such hatred he may as well have been there still. Bring it home, Jo. I start shaking my head like there's a rock rattling in there I want out. I thought it would be difficult to cry on cue, but the sorrow's been building for days. I let 'er rip. A blubbering sob escapes, and I cover my mouth to stop them, but they continue on. I crumple on the couch and sob my heart out. For Brendan, for Lexie, for Jem, even for me. Because if this fails, I really will lose him forever. And that really would break my heart beyond repair.
The curtain falls.
*
She's gone. The next day, after the funeral, I take a walk along the beach to see if I can talk to Lexie, but instead of her, I find men boxing up the house and moving furniture into a truck. One of them men tells me she's already left for Independence. I slowly meander the way I came to my house. I hate the place now more than e
ver. Even in the damn bathroom I swear I can sense his eyes on me. And it's hard being "on" all the time. I've been moping around the house like a less cheery Hamlet, or on occasion snapping at Dobbs or Shannon. I even called my sponsor on my tapped phone. That was actually helpful. If I get through this farce without a real drink, it'll be a miracle. I already had Dobbs fill a whisky bottle with ice tea in case I need a prop. Luckily, I had twenty years experience of heartbreak to draw on for this performance. Method acting at its finest. Hope Cain enjoys the show.
I trudge up the stairs to the mansion, but stop just before I reach the top. Game face. My body becomes slack, my shoulders hunched, and the scowl I've been sporting since Jem fled is plastered to my face. Rejected, depressed, unloved, pissed. Got it. I make my way up to the patio. Pretty sure I've spotted a camera attached to the light fixture. That makes five already. Big bastard brother is watching. I open the sliding glass door, stepping into the living room (camera on the map above the fireplace) where my ex sits watching the news and sipping a cup of coffee. Thank God. Another one I didn't think would show. After all he's swamped trying to catch a terrorist. Little does he know that by coming over today that's exactly what he's doing.
"Shit. Harry. I'm sorry, have you been waiting long?"
"Only five minutes or so."
"Oh. Good." I shrug off my coat and move around to him. "Thanks for coming over. I would have come to the precinct, but I just…" I shrug and scoff as I sit. "Lexie Darby's left town apparently."
"Really? Does that mean--"
"Yeah. Galilee Falls has managed to kill or scare away two more heroes. We're pretty much on our own. Again."
"Oh. Sorry. I know you were all close."
I scoff. "Yeah. Right." I unleash the image of Justin and Rebecca when they announced their engagement into my brain. Still feels like a punch to the gut. "I think I was wrong, Harry."
"I'm sorry?"
"I mean, I was right. Before. I've just been wrong the past few months."
The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 2): Galilee Rising Page 23