“Poor Jud,” her mother said softly, and her father shuffled behind, alone.
Mary couldn’t remember the last time her parents hadn’t walked together, and they went down the elevator as a somber threesome, the triangle of their family reconfigured. Nobody said a word as they left the hospital, where Mary hurried them past the reporters, shielded them from the videocameras, and shouted a steady stream of “no comments.” She hailed a cab, stuffed them inside, and got in. The cabbie took off, and Mary gave him their address, which was when her mother finally spoke.
“Maria, stay home, tonight. Stay home.”
“Sure, Ma,” Mary answered. She knew her mother was hurting, but she couldn’t see her expression in the dark. They passed under a street lamp, and it flashed like a strobe light, exposing rather than illuminating them.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, and Mary listened to the raindrops thunder on the roof of the cab. Fog clouded the windows, walling them inside. They reached South Philly, crawling through the rainswept streets, and she didn’t bother to check her BlackBerry. Anthony hadn’t written, called, or texted. They were really over.
The cab pulled up in front of the row house with the D on its screen door, where her father opened his wallet, and her mother let out a tiny sigh.
“Home sweet home,” said the cabbie.
Chapter One Hundred and Four
Bennie hurried out of the police cruiser with Grady and the two cops, hitting the pavement running. They ducked into an unmarked door at a side entrance of the terminal, then hustled down a series of corridors, passing two airline employees catching a secret smoke. They reached a steel door that read SECURITY and went inside, letting it close with a metallic clang!
TSA employees, uniformed cops, airport personnel, and two men in blue FBI windbreakers filled the room, which was dimly lit and surrounded on three sides by sixty-odd surveillance-camera monitors, their flickering images glowing in front of a long, gray counter dotted with coffee cups and an open box of picked-over donuts.
Bennie glanced at the screens. “Which one is the monitor for the Miami flight?”
“There.” An airport security guard pointed to the middle screen, on the far right. “Miami is at Gate 3, Terminal A. It’s waiting to board. She’s booked on a connection to Nassau, and that’s delayed, too, because of weather.”
Bennie eyed the grainy images, changing every second, with time and date tickers running along the bottom of the screen. They showed women sipping drinks, men tugging roller bags, sleepy toddlers with stuffed bunnies, a teenage boy checking an iPod dial, a little girl toting her own bedpillows, and business types with Bluetooths in their ears, talking to the air. None of the travelers were Alice.
“See her?” the security guard asked.
“Not yet.”
Grady added, “I don’t either. She had on a tan suit today.”
“She’s your identical twin, right, Ms. Rosato?” The security guard glanced up, then returned to the screen. “They sent us a photo.”
“Yes, but she might have disguised herself somehow, guessing we’d be on the lookout. There’s plenty of stores in the airport where she could pick up a fresh set of clothes.”
“Most of them are closed this late.”
“She’ll find an open one, or she’ll beg, borrow, or steal new clothes.”
“A disguise won’t help her. The seat is booked under her name, or rather, your name. She’ll have to identify herself to board.”
“Of course. Has she checked in yet?”
“No.”
“Even this late, she hasn’t checked in?” Bennie watched the screen, puzzled. “Isn’t that strange?”
“Not really,” answered a TSA employee, standing with the cops. “If she called the airline or checked the flight status online, she would’ve seen that it was delayed.”
“So we won’t know who she is until she tries to board, as me. Is that right?”
“Yes, and the airline won’t board her. Nobody wants trouble on the plane. They’re cooperating with us, and we’re all on the same page.”
“Is it a full flight?” Bennie kept her eyes on the screen.
“No.”
“So what’s to stop her from buying a ticket with cash and going on as somebody else?”
“That would take ID.”
“She could have fake ID.”
“We’ll see her get on, right here.” The TSA employee gestured at the Miami monitor. “As soon as we ID her, she’ll be apprehended and arrested. The cops already have a team in place, waiting in the security office in Terminal A. They’ll go as soon as we give them the word.”
Bennie nodded. “Did you circulate her photo to other ticket desks, for other airlines, so they could be on the lookout, too?”
“No.” The TSA employee frowned. “We had no reason to, and no time, anyway. This flight was already ticketed to a Bennie Rosato.”
“Maybe it’s a decoy. Maybe she’s setting us up.” Bennie ran through the possibilities. “What if she took another flight, to somewhere else? Flew to Nassau direct or went another way? Changed it up at the last minute?”
“She can’t. There are no more direct flights to Nassau on any carrier. Besides, she doesn’t know that we know about her ticket.”
Suddenly something on the Miami monitor caught Bennie’s attention. A group of tall teenage boys headed en masse toward the gate, lugging backpacks, plugged into earphones, and wearing baseball caps worn low over their eyes. They were all too tall for them not to be a basketball team, but one of the boys in the back was looking right and left, for no apparent reason. He wasn’t walking with the others, and no one was talking with him. His cap had a telltale bulge that could have been hair, tucked underneath.
“Look at him.” Bennie pointed. “The one in the back.”
“Hello?” The TSA employee snorted. “They’re boys. It’s a boy’s beach volleyball team, from California. I have the manifest.”
“She could be dressed as a boy. Her hair’s under her cap. See it?”
“My God, you’re right!” The TSA employee turned excitedly. “Tom?”
“That’s her!” Officer Stern said, moving toward the door.
“We made her!” somebody shouted into a Nextel.
“We’re on, people!” Officer Rigton and the other cops bolted for the door, with Bennie and Grady on their heels. They tore down one corridor, then another, finally bursting through doors that let them out in the terminal, which was engulfed in a melee. People shouted, screamed, and ran for cover. A team of uniformed cops shouted for them to get down and streaked ahead to the Miami gate.
Bennie ran right behind them and when she reached the gate, all the travelers had scattered, hiding under seats or behind desks while a scrum of uniformed cops had piled on Alice, struggling at the bottom. The cops got off the pile one by one, dragging Alice to a standing position. They wrenched her hands behind her back and turned her around.
Her hat fell off, and her hair shook free.
It wasn’t Alice, but a terrified teenage boy, with long hair.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he yelled, his eyes wide. A new Transporter DVD lay on the floor, at his sneakers. “I’ll give it back, I swear!”
Chapter One Hundred and Five
Alice hurried through the terminal in her bare feet, her clothes soggy, but there was no one around to see. The hallway was deserted, and she hustled past a janitor pushing a trashcan on wheels. She hustled around a corner, her messenger bag heavy with wet money, the gun in her purse. She didn’t have to go through security because she was flying private, having charged the trip on Bennie’s Amex, which nobody had thought to cancel yet.
She hustled to the gate, manned by a female flight attendant in ared RentJet uniform. The cops were probably at the Philly airport, but she’d skipped the flight booked to Miami, called a private company from the cab, and chartered a jet out of this regional airport, in Jersey. The Philly police didn’t have jurisdiction
here, even if they’d had the time to notify the area airports.
“Hi, I’m Bennie Rosato.” Alice flashed ID at the flight attendant, who barely looked at it, instead eyeing her clothes.
“I’m Willa. My goodness, you really did get caught in the rain, didn’t you?”
“Yes, it’s awful tonight.”
“I picked you up a complete set of clothes, per your request. A simple T-shirt, shorts, sweatsocks and sneaks. You know, you could have driven right up to the plane.”
“I didn’t know. I don’t fly private that much.”
“Well, we’re glad to have you tonight. In weather this bad, people cancel and fly commercial. One was a Bahamas route, so we didn’t have to file a new flight plan. Please, come this way.” The flight attendant led her out the door under a red canopy and gestured toward a handsome African-American man running toward them, also in a RentJet uniform. “Here’s my crewmate to take your bags.”
“I don’t have any. This trip is impromptu.”
“Then he’ll help you on board and we’ll get underway.”
“Good, because I’m in a hurry.” Alice smiled at the man, who came toward her, opening a red umbrella.
“I’m Knox,” he said, in a Ca rib be an accent.
“Where are you from, Knox?”
“Nassau. That’s why I work this route. Shall we go?” Knox took her heavy messenger bag, swung it effortlessly to his shoulder, and offered his arm. Alice let him walk her to the jet and help her up the stairway, holding the umbrella over her head. He closed the umbrella as she boarded the jet, stepped through a privacy curtain, and entered the passenger cabin, which was paneled with dark burled wood and had cushy beige leather seats. A low table held a huge tray heaped with roast beef, sliced cheese, and fresh fruit, next to a bottle of champagne cooling in an ice bucket.
“Yum.” Alice glanced back at her messenger bag. “Oh, I’ll keep the bag with me.”
“As you wish.” Knox smiled and stowed the bag on the carpeted floor, near her seat. “Would you like to change your clothes now, or would you rather we take off?”
“Let’s get into the air. I’ll tough it out for a while. I need to get going.”
“Fine, I’ll be right back.” Knox closed the curtain and left, and Alice sank into the plush chair. She listened to the throaty sound of the jet engine, then the door closing, and the attendants talking to each other. She’d had to improvise since Bennie came back from the dead, but she had done well. Plan C was already taking shape. She looked outside the round window into a black hole of night.
Knox stuck his head into the cabin, through the curtain. “We’re clear. Fasten your seat belt, please.”
“Okay.” Alice clicked the belt into place. “I don’t have to wait to have a drink, do I?”
“Not at all, Ms. Rosato. Allow me.”
“Please, call me Bennie.” Alice watched him pluck the bottle from the craggy ice and wipe the sweating nozzle with a red napkin. The plane began to taxi, the champagne cork popped, and they both laughed.
“Ready, Bennie?” Knox picked up a glass.
“After you close that curtain,” Alice answered, masking her thoughts with a smile.
Chapter One Hundred and Six
Mary lay in her old single bed, surrounded by the shelves of high-school textbooks and faded stuffed animals. She couldn’t see them clearly because it was too dark, but she knew their shapes and smells by heart. She always loved her old room and slept like a baby when she stayed over, but not tonight.
She pulled the covers to her chin, over her old Goretti T-shirt. She couldn’t shake the images of the night. Judy, her eyes terrified. The flare of the gunfire. The wait at the hospital. The chill between her parents.
She was exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t rest. Her mother had gone to sleep in their bedroom, and her father slept on the couch. The only other time that had happened was when he brought home live crabs. She forgave him and put the crabs in the gravy, where God intended.
Mary turned over, coming eye-level with the BlackBerry on her night table. She picked it up, checking it for the umpteenth time. Nothing from Anthony, but there was an email that hadn’t been there before. It was from the realtor, with no subject line. Mary pressed OPEN:
Congrats! The buyer accepted your offer. Sorry about the delay. All terms are fine. I’d call but it’s late. Talk to you tomorrow.
She stared at the screen until it blinked off. She had just become the owner of a house that had cost her Anthony. She groaned, the only sound in the very quiet house, and it made her think about what made a house a home. It wasn’t the Curb Appeal, New Fixtures, or Great Views! It was the people who lived inside.
If home is where the heart is, then the heart of the DiNunzio house was broken. Her parents’ house didn’t feel like a home tonight, and if she flashed-forward to her new house, it wouldn’t be much of a home, either. Not without Anthony. Her heart was with him.
She knew it now, inside. She prayed it wasn’t too late. She held up the BlackBerry and speed-dialed him. She couldn’t give up the house, but maybe she could persuade him to live with her. Or they could talk about it, and come to an understanding. She loved him. And he loved her, right?
The phone rang and rang, but Anthony didn’t pick up.
She tried again, thinking she had a wrong number, but she didn’t. Then she texted: Pls call me.
She waited, but he didn’t respond. She emailed him, too. Suddenly the phone rang, and she startled. The screen read Anthony. She pressed Answer. “It’s you!”
“I was just about to call you.”
“Really?” Mary scrambled to sit upright in bed. “Listen, I’ve been thinking and—”
“No, can I go first? I’ve been rehearsing this all night, since the hospital.”
“Okay.” Mary felt her heart hammer. “Go ahead.”
“I figured something out. What I realized is that we do have a problem, but it’s not about the money. You think it is, and for a while, I thought it was, too, But it isn’t.”
Mary wasn’t sure where he was going.
“I am happy for all your success. I hope you make partner and get the house. I want all the best for you. I love you, Mary. I do.”
“I love you, too,” she said, touched.
“I know you do.” Anthony hesitated. “But that’s only part of it, because here’s what I finally understood. To back up a minute, it’s all because Judy almost died. When I saw on the news that she was in critical condition, I thought, if she dies, it will kill Mary. She can’t take it, after her husband’s dying.”
Mary swallowed hard. She hadn’t seen this coming.
“So, yes, I know you love me. But you also love him.”
Mary felt her face burn.
“You bring him up all the time. It’s like he’s always with you, still. You compare us, in your mind. You said as much, the other day in the house.” Anthony paused. “Don’t get me wrong, I understand your grief. I know how grief works. My father, you know.”
Mary did. Anthony still mourned his father, who had passed five years ago.
“But you don’t know what it’s like, from my side of the equation, to be in love with someone in grief. It’s not good. I can’t fight a ghost, and I don’t want to. You said you can’t win, but it’s me. I’m the one who can’t win.”
Mary felt stricken. His words rang true. She hadn’t seen it from his side, before.
“So here’s my proposition, for us. Let’s not stay apart. I hate it. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too!” Mary’s heart leapt up.
“But let’s not move in together, either. Not until you’re ready to move on. Really ready.”
Mary blinked, taken aback.
“The ball’s in your court. Take your time. Make sure. We’ll take it slow. When you’re ready, tell me. You don’t have to be all the way over him, either. Just a little more than now. Sound good?”
“Great!”
“You’ll know when
you’re ready, and the money is beside the point. It’ll work itself out. Who’s on the deed doesn’t matter. We’re who matters.”
Mary heard him, maybe for the first time.
“Capisce, cara?”
Mary smiled. She liked it when he spoke Italian. They spoke the same language, after all. “Okay, I understand, and you’re right.”
“I’m sorry for what I said, when we fought.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“I hate when we fight.”
Mary thought of what Judy had told her. She’d had to eat a lot of crow lately, for a partner. “It’s okay to fight. That’s how we know we care.”
“Right.” Anthony fell silent a minute. “Now go to sleep.”
“Talk tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Mary watched the call disconnect, flopped backwards, and thought about what Anthony had said.
She fell asleep with the BlackBerry in her hand.
Chapter One Hundred and Seven
Bennie and Grady were ushered to the opposite gate with Officer Stern and Special Agent Wingate while the Philly cops, TSA, airport security, the A.D.A., and the other FBI agents whipped out cell phones and radios. Across the way, the Miami flight was boarding, the passengers disgruntled and weary.
“Sorry about that.” Bennie could’ve kicked herself. “I thought it was her.”
“Me, too.” Officer Stern shook his head. “It happens.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We’re searching all terminals, the garage, the remote lot, area hotels and restaurants. We’re checking other flights, other airports, even though it’s late.”
“Didn’t we do that before?”
“Frankly, we’re not sure what got done and what didn’t. There are a lot of different agencies working the case, each with different jurisdictions. Something must’ve gotten missed. We didn’t have much time, and this time of year, everybody’s short-staffed. She could still be here.”
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