by Polly Iyer
Lana helped Frank up. He touched her hand. “Give me my shot, love, then I want to talk to Reece alone in the parlor. You two can drink some tea in the kitchen until I’m through. Or better yet, Lana, open that bottle of good wine. We could all use a drink.”
“Tomorrow,” Lana said. “You need to rest.”
He reached for her. “Please.”
Lana didn’t argue. She helped Frank settle in his chair. He seemed to be in pain, but he didn’t complain. Not Frank. Reece wondered what his friend thought of him all those years when he teetered on the brink of losing it. Not that he spoke of the conflicts. He didn’t speak at all.
Frank winked at Dana, a gesture to mask his feelings while Lana gave him his shot. Reece couldn’t imagine that if he had seen his father today, he would have felt anything close to what he felt for Frank, whose pain burned into Reece as if he suffered it himself. A man so different from the father who had given him life and whom he had loved and respected before his arrest. And yet, he loved Frank—this thief and murderer who taught him how to survive and who had saved his life.
The heat of Dana’s stare bore into him. In the last couple of days, she had seen the man behind Frank’s rough façade and had fallen hard. She would suffer his loss too. Lana kissed Frank and took Dana’s hand to lead her into the kitchen.
“In my most vivid dreams in prison when I thought of getting out,” Frank said, “I never saw an ending like this. I always thought it would be with a knife in my gut or a bullet in the head, but never like this.” He checked the kitchen to see if anyone could hear. “And it still could be that way.”
Reece took his hand, a collection of bones under a layer of parchment skin, and he felt the familiar gnawing in his stomach.
Frank’s hangdog eyes pleaded. “It wouldn’t be a coward’s way, would it?”
Was there a right answer? He didn’t know, but he knew his, right or wrong. “Not if that’s the way you choose.”
“You mean you wouldn’t try to talk me out of it?”
Reece forced out the word. “No.”
The old man let out a breath. “I hoped you’d say that. There’s enough morphine here to do the trick. But I don’t want to do it alone so someone would blame Lana after. And they would, you know. I couldn’t stand that. With the three of you here—”
“If I could suffer your pain—”
“No, no, no. Shh. Don’t. Don’t ever say that. You have a life to live yet. You’ve suffered enough pain you shouldn’t have. I fucked up a good part of my life. Maybe this is God’s way to get even.” Frank coughed out a laugh. “Aw, shit. What the hell am I talking about? Like I believe in God. I don’t. Never did. I’m turning this into some morbid death bed confession when all I want to know is if I choose to go out on my own terms, would you hate me?”
Reece swallowed back the raw emotion. He couldn’t let go and upset Frank. “No. You’re the father I love, Frank. I could never hate you.”
Frank nodded. “That’s all I wanted to know.”
“Have you discussed this with Lana?”
“Yes. Like you, she says it’s my decision, and I call the shots. Funny way of putting it. Whether needle or gun, it’d be a shot, wouldn’t it?” His laugh drifted off. “She doesn’t want to be here if that’s what I decide to do. I’ll see. I can still handle it. I’ve got time.”
Reece could see now that Frank didn’t have a lot of time. He needed the meds more frequently to combat the pain. Soon he would slip into a drug stupor and not come out. Maybe that was the best way, but it wasn’t Reece’s decision to make. “I’ll be here.”
He nodded. “You thought of it inside, didn’t you?” Frank asked.
Reece didn’t have to think long or shade the truth. Not with Frank. “Yes. More than once. Not because I couldn’t take it, although there were days I wondered what kind of stuff I was made of, but because of the futility of being there, day after day, wasting away and accomplishing nothing. I couldn’t take the abyss of nothingness.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Reece craned his neck. He could see Dana’s profile. She turned, caught him looking. Her smile hit him where it made him the happiest.
“Me too,” he said, and then he thought again of the terrible place he had put her.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Dark Side
Dana lay in Reece’s arms, her head nestled on his chest. He had showered, and she breathed in the fragrance of his aftershave, a name she’d never heard that smelled of lavender and cedar. He’d found it on a trip to France during his college days. “I won’t let you get rid of me.”
He pulled her tighter. “I don’t want to get rid of you. I want to protect you. There’s a difference.”
“I’m safe here, you heard Frank.”
“You also heard him say I’m right in wanting to get you out of this before you land in prison.”
“I won’t. And neither will you. Clarence is working on the murders too. One of you will find the right person.”
“You’re beautiful, Dana, but you’re also naïve. I remember when I was the same way, but I’ve learned being innocent or being right doesn’t always translate to being safe. I don’t want to go back to prison. You already know some of the reasons, but there’s more you should hear before you make any decisions that could impact your life.”
“I’ve made my decision.”
“But you don’t have all the facts.” He sat up in bed. She did too. “Remember I told you about seeing a shrink?”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Staying with Robert all those years should have qualified me as a charter patient in a mental hospital.”
“Then we might have met earlier.”
She stopped, shifted into her usual cross-legged position. “What are you saying?”
“I should have told you. I should have done a lot of things because I knew you were special from the day we met. It was one of those instant things. That never happened to me before, but then I’d been out of commission a long time. I don’t want you to pay the price for my dishonesty.”
Dana wasn’t lying when she told Reece she wanted to know everything about him, and she knew “everything” wouldn’t be pleasant. She’d already heard some of it and didn’t think what he had left to say could be worse. “What do you think you’ve been dishonest about?”
“Frank asked me tonight if I ever wanted to kill myself in prison. I said I’d thought about it seriously, more than once. Obviously, I didn’t, whether out of cowardice or fear, I don’t know. On good days I’d talk myself out of it, and that lasted until the bad days were too many in a row to ignore. Then I’d struggle all over again.”
“And when you were free you still thought about it?”
He looked at her. They’d left one bedside light on low, and she could see his eyes. Dark blue and earnest. And cautious. He still had trouble telling her about the second part of his life.
“You didn’t answer,” she said.
He nodded. “When I got out, I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to go home to Maine. There was nothing there for me anymore. I stayed with Jeri for a few weeks until I found a small house to rent in Concord, about twenty miles from Boston. Beautiful town, lots of history. I thought I could get lost there while I reacquainted myself with freedom. I slept outside at first so I could get a sense of the universe, and because I couldn’t stand to be inside, locked in a house. I knew it wasn’t a cell, but I still felt confined. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over that. I’ll start with your house.” He squeezed her hand and offered a smile.
“I can’t explain what went through me. Being out made me realize more clearly what I’d lost—the years, my career, everything I’d worked so hard to achieve before the state decided I wasn’t fit for civilization. I had nothing left and no one to stop me from ending my life. The thought scared the shit out of me. I knew I was close to the edge. So did Jeraldine. She urged me to get help. That moment was a turning point. Did I wan
t to live or didn’t I? I decided I did, that I couldn’t let life beat me after fifteen years of the worst of it. I checked into a private hospital.”
The dim light did nothing to hide the anguish on his face. Dana moved closer to him. Jeraldine had told her this. Not that he’d checked into a hospital, but Dana knew he’d sought help.
“What happened to me is similar to what happens to some men after combat.”
“You mean Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?”
“Something like that. For fifteen years I lived in this atmosphere of tension. I had to watch my back every minute. Some cons hated me for reasons only they knew or because hate was so intrinsic to their makeup it defined them. There were others I taught to read or taught other things, and they watched my back too. But the stress got to me.”
He reached for the bottle of water Lana had left on each bedside table. He swished the liquid around inside his mouth and swallowed. “I went inside an educated, serious person, and I came out filled with emotions I didn’t understand. Hate and fear have a way of wrapping around you. You breathe them in the air, sleep with them while it covers you like a blanket and protects you, because if you don’t let it in, you leave yourself vulnerable. It’s the old adage come to life: If you lie down with dogs, you’ll get up with fleas.
“I had become someone else inside. Someone I didn’t recognize and didn’t like very much. But that was how I stayed alive. Frank and the others had their own backs to worry about. They couldn’t babysit this overgrown neophyte who didn’t know his ass from his elbow, and I didn’t want them to.” He sucked in a long breath, let it out in a slow, steady stream. “Over time, I learned.”
She saw how hard this was for him and leaned over to kiss him. Reece wasn’t violent or mean, but he’d been damaged. She knew from his closed-off manner when they first met. He’d make sure no one would hurt him again. “You did what you had to do. I don’t fault you for that.”
He forced a smile. “I was still luckier than most. I had money and the smarts to know I had problems. I stayed there, in that place, until I had a handle on my emotions and could function on the outside.” He put his hands on her face and returned her kiss. “I’m not the person who went into prison, Dana, but I’m not the person who got out either. I want you to know that.”
“So now I know.”
“Sitting in that cell last week brought back some of those feelings. I thought—Christ, what if I couldn’t handle it? Then you came that morning when I was at my lowest, and you plunked yourself on my dock. One look at you and everything fell into place. I decided then I wanted to live. Not because you were in my life—I would never want you to feel that a life or death decision rested on you—but because I really wanted to. If you left me this minute, I’d still want to.”
“I hope so,” she said, “but I’m not leaving you.” He ran his fingers through her hair, and her insides sparked. “I’m not that starry-eyed or naïve to think there won’t be problems down the line. Life is never that simple. Remember, I married once thinking I’d found my perfect man, only to realize later he was far from perfect. You found your own strength, and it had nothing to do with me. Maybe you weren’t sure you had it in you, but you did.”
“Yeah, I feel good about that. But I need to clear myself. For me and for you.” He bit his bottom lip. “And I need to be with Frank at the end. He’d be there for me.”
“I’ll be with you.” She straddled him. “Kiss me.” He did. Then he turned her onto her back and kissed her again. And again.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Another One Down
Reece woke in the dark. He tiptoed around the room to avoid waking Dana. The four of them had polished off three bottles of wine the night before. Reece drank only a couple of glasses, afraid he’d be groggy when he woke. Time was running out. He couldn’t let anything stop him now. He’d call Clarence from the road, if he even got to the road. The danger was leaving the building. His picture flashed on Boston TV news and hit the front page of the papers. Dana’s too, although it clearly stated that she was allegedly with him. Good. They had no proof. Just because she wasn’t in Regal Falls didn’t mean she had taken off with a man wanted for murder.
He stood for a moment and watched her sleep, her breathing a slow, steady rise and fall. She looked so peaceful and innocent. After they talked the night before, the wine hit her and she fell asleep in his arms as soon as she closed her eyes. In that moment, her warmth, the scent of her hair, her skin, took him to a place where nothing bad could happen. He’d never been in love before, not like this, when someone meant more than anything else. He could even accept the wasted years, knowing she was the prize awaiting him. But he wasn’t there yet, and he had to pull himself away before he woke her with the intensity of his stare.
He heard murmuring from Frank’s room, but he didn’t want to bother them. He closed the apartment door behind him and left. So far, he hadn’t seen another person in the building. That didn’t mean they hadn’t seen him. Nothing beat plain luck, and he could use some.
Standing at the glass door leading to the street, he watched the early morning traffic on Lynn Shore Drive. With no hint of light, the dark sky melted seamlessly into the ocean, obliterating the horizon. He didn’t see any suspicious-looking cars, so he shot out the door to the Civic, hopped in, and maneuvered onto Lynnway traffic. He glanced in the rearview mirror, didn’t think anyone followed. His heart raced, palms slick on the steering wheel.
He placed the printed-out directions to Steve Yarrow’s vet practice on top of the road atlas. Reece drove the coast road out of Lynn, through the Ted Williams Tunnel, and onto the Southeast Expressway. He remembered in school people referred to it as the Southeast Distressway. He hadn’t been back to Boston since they finished construction on the Big Dig, but he agreed its completion made driving through the city easier, almost validating the cost overruns. He cut off into Quincy, passing strip shopping centers and harbors, over bridges, past shipyards, and around rotaries. He kept going along coastal Route 3A, the sun rising in the east, until he came to the left turn that brought him into Cohasset. Calendar pictures emerged of the quaint village in the morning light.
For Reece, one drawback marred the beauty of the lovely coastal town. Though an enclave, Cohasset was part of Norfolk County—the same county in which he’d spent fifteen years of his life in prison.
That chilling thought wiped the intended call to Clarence from his mind, and as if on autopilot, he found himself sitting in front of Steve Yarrow’s vet practice, wondering how he got there. Had Mark Cabrini called Steve and warned him of Reece’s impending arrival? He hoped not, because if he did, Reece could be walking into a trap.
Should he go inside and risk someone recognizing him? He didn’t see anything resembling surveillance in the almost empty parking lot. Was Yarrow inside? This could be his day off. Reece chastised himself for not being better prepared. He should have made an anonymous call to the office to find out which days Dr. Yarrow worked. Damn, why hadn’t he thought of those things before now? He sat in the car, physically frozen, his hands locked on the steering wheel. A car pulled into the lot. A woman holding a tiny dog got out and went inside, oblivious to the man with the ball cap and sunglasses sitting alone in his car, waiting to get up enough courage to—to do what? Go inside? Sit here and wait?
Would Reece even recognize Yarrow? It had been over twenty years. People changed. He sure had. Would Steve recognize him? He chuckled at the absurdity of the question. The whole country would recognize Reece Daughtry. No place was safe.
Another thought entered his mind. What if Steve Yarrow had killed Karen? What if he killed the poor woman in North Carolina? Yarrow could kill Reece and he’d be praised as a hero.
Jesus. How stupid could he be? He’d set himself up, leaving a trail a ten-year old could follow. He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock on the passenger window. Steve Yarrow didn’t look much different from twenty years ago. He motioned for Reece
to open the door. He did, and the vet slid into the car.
“Pull out of the driveway,” he said, “before someone sees you. Take a right and the first left through the center of town.”
Reece started the car and did what Steve told him, feeling part Inspector Clouseau and part James Bond. He realized as he passed the police station what danger he faced if a cop spotted him.
“Take the right fork,” Steve said. They crossed over a small bridge. “Turn left into that drive.” He drove into the parking lot of the sailing club.
Reece pulled into a space facing the harbor. In better times, he would have enjoyed the view of the boats bobbing in the water, the clouds like cotton candy billowing over the sea. But these weren’t normal times, and everything blurred under the weight of his situation. A couple of cars were parked nearby, but he didn’t see anyone. Steve was as slim and athletic looking as he was in college. His light brown hair brushed his shirt collar and framed a spare, angular face.
Steve studied him. “I wouldn’t have recognized you if your picture hadn’t been all over the front pages of the newspaper, and if I didn’t know you were coming. You don’t look the same, but you look good.”
“Mark called you?”
“Yeah. He felt me out first before he told me. He said he almost had to gag his wife. She wanted to call the cops.”
“That was clear when I was there.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Other than possibly getting people like yourself in trouble if anyone finds out? Probably not. If I had any faith in the law, I’d turn myself in. But I have a hard time believing the law is on my side. I can’t go back to prison.” Reece caught Yarrow squinting at him, making him uneasy.