She had the parents’ last digit already dialed and was ready to hit send when Beckett put his hand over the phone.
“Let me tell you this,” he said. “Just quick—then we’ll do whatever you want.”
“They might miss the chance to say good-bye to their daughter.” She didn’t have to tell him she’d missed that chance with her dad.
He sat next to her and held her hand. “Eve…”
He was using her name. She braced herself for bad news, though she couldn’t imagine what it might be.
“Those babies, there might be a chance—a chance that—”
“That they’re Vitullo’s grandchildren,” Eve finished for him. “I figured that out already.” She looked at her phone.
He cradled her face in his hands. “Children. They could be his children.”
She had a little shiver. The idea that he was still spouting DNA was totally disgusting. He was old enough to be a grandfather’s grandfather.
Beckett took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, your father wanted to give you a gift. He made a choice when you were unconscious after your first accident.”
The life-changing accident. The one that took her from potential mom to killer. The waiting room was desolate—a bland place that could be in any hospital in the world.
She waited.
He swallowed and looked wrecked. Torn.
She inhaled twice in a row.
“I have reason to believe your father had some of your ovary tissue frozen. Did you know about this?”
She knew he was speaking English but his words didn’t make sense.
“I’m guessing no.” He kissed her forehead. Tender. Unlike him.
And then it clicked. Rodolfo’s children. Her father being tortured. Alison being kidnapped. She was a surrogate.
“Mine?” She dropped her phone and pointed toward the hospital room where Alison lay. “Mine with…him?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” Beckett told her. “I’m not. But I have a suspicion. There’s a lot of information in that stuff I collected at the house where Alison was. I’m still sorting through it. He was trying to hurt me. He wanted you. It’s why he didn’t need to take you again. He must have figured out that you couldn’t, well, have babies. But she could. If it worked, she could.”
Tears of anger caused his face to go out of focus. “Mine?” This seemed to be the only word her mind or her mouth could form.
With that, two policemen approached.
“I’m sorry, I’m sure this is a bad time, but we have some questions about the gunshot wound your…cousin, is it?…acquired.”
She heard them, but couldn’t stop looking at Beckett, searching his face for answers. Her father had betrayed her. Rodolfo had used her. Beckett knew and didn’t tell her. She stood and shook her head, knocking away his searching hand.
“I’ll speak to you in a moment,” she told the officer. “Right now I have to tell someone to call her parents. They have to get to the hospital and say good-bye to their daughter.”
She went to nurse’s station and showed them the number on her phone, explaining what she knew in a soft voice. The nurse in charge began to dial, taking the situation in stride.
Eve watched as Beckett’s face fell. He understood what she was doing, and the danger and trouble it would cause them both.
The worry for Bill Landstone and his wife, Cindy, never stopped. For eight months and twenty-two days Alison had been gone, Flint had been gone. If the pair had followed through with their plans to have Alison implanted at that fertility clinic, there would a grandchild out there for them somewhere, maybe. But Alison’s doctor had said he never saw them that day.
It was like the world didn’t hear them when they screamed their concern. Cindy had spoken to Alison every day for her whole life except when it was totally impossible. The letters they’d found in the house made no sense. That wasn’t the Flint they knew.
He knew Cindy was still expecting a phone call. Someday. From Alison, her beautiful daughter. They prayed at church, lit candles, wore ribbons in her favorite color of lavender—the color she had asked for her room to be painted at fourteen, the color of her prom dress. Her wedding had all been shades lavender, and she wanted to name her baby Lavender, if it was a girl.
He missed the everyday happy words that should be in their hearts. He sometimes caught himself with his mouth open, desperately forcing his lungs to breathe around the pain. Not finding her was their failure, and they continued to try. They walked the streets by her house, they visited the fertility clinic where she was last seen. Cindy went to psychics regularly, and he’d finally stopped complaining about the visits. It still made him angry to hear the latest “update”: she’s by a windmill, by the sand, wearing green. He always told her it was all bullshit. But it gave her something to believe in.
Today they were eating grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner because they had to eat, no matter how insulting it felt to carry on when they didn’t know where she was. Bill made a point to complete this ritual with Cindy every day. It was the only way he could be sure she would eat—or that he would eat, for that matter.
The phone rang.
They locked eyes, and a shot of adrenaline coursed through his system. They rushed, of course. Of course they rushed to the phone. Before it was done with the second ring, the receiver was in Cindy’s hand.
The caller ID took a beat to catch up. When the hospital’s number appeared, he felt Cindy go rigid next to him.
The call was prayer answered—any time the phone rang it was a split-second of hope. To see it wasn’t a friend meant more prayers answered. And lastly, to be from the hospital…to be from the hospital was the worst and best dream come true.
Maybe an answer.
Bill held Cindy around the waist to keep them both standing. She placed the phone on her shoulder and tilted it a bit so he could hear too. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Landstone, we have a woman matching your daughter’s description here at the hospital. Could you possibly drive carefully down to see her?”
Cindy made a noise, but it wasn’t a word.
“Is she alive?” he interjected, taking the phone.
Cindy went to the floor as if she were melting. He cradled the phone and made sure she stayed sitting, not hitting her head.
“Yes, but she’s seriously injured,” the voice confirmed. “Will you be able to make the drive? I’m going to have to insist it’s soon.” Sterile. Comforting. The person on the other end was used to making these phone calls. “I’m calling from Fallom County Hospital. Do you know how to get here?”
“I do. Do I need to bring her anything?”
He didn’t hear the answer because Cindy started screaming, clawing at his pant leg. He knew it was because he had an answer and she didn’t.
He hung up the phone. “She’s alive, Cindy. She’s alive. But she’s hurt, and we need to go. Go now.”
They ran out of the house, leaving the front door open. The only reason Bill had the keys to the truck when he got to it was because he always had them in his pocket. For this moment. For this second. Wherever he was. In case they needed to race.
He looked at Cindy’s wide eyes, her knuckles white as she spoke the first two sentences of the Our Father over and over because that’s all she had. That’s all she could comprehend.
When Alison was born, so many years ago yet it seemed like yesterday, they’d taken this same route. And then years later they’d taken it again, but with both his girls in the backseat this time—Cindy holding Alison carefully as his little girl cried. Broken arm. She’d had a hot pink cast, which she hated, but with her big blue eyes she’d conned them into getting her a cat. That stupid cat took a dump in his left work boot four times a year until it died.
Died. The word died made his vision blurry. He fought. He had to be a man. Be her father. She was at the hospital, and he was going to take her home. Take her home.
His girls.
He pulled into the
ambulance bay and ignored the signs warning him against that very thing. Cindy was right between running and falling when he caught her. They proceeded forward like a frantic sack race.
The nurse behind the desk in the emergency room didn’t know about a phone call. Didn’t know about Alison. Cindy started calling out, calling her daughter’s name. He tried to hush her, and also get an answer.
A blond woman touched his shoulder. “This way, sir.”
“Are you a nurse?”
“No, sir. But just come this way and the nurses will tell you everything.”
She was pretty. Could have almost been a sister to Alison. About the same age. Maybe she’d once had a pink cast. I have to bring the girls home. Cindy’s unbalanced. Hold Cindy up.
The girl pointed out a nurse who began to speak. He couldn’t hear her. The word gunshot was too loud. The blond girl began talking to police officers.
“Are you ready, sir? She’s been through a lot. Please, this way.”
Of course he would come. Help Cindy. Cindy is shaking. Cindy is cold. No, Cindy is scared. The pink cast was the worst because he’d had to hold Alison while they rebroke her arm. She begged him to make it stop, but he couldn’t stop it. Cindy was crying but trying to be strong. Years fade. Today and yesterday are the same.
The door swung open, and at first he was relieved. It wasn’t Alison because Alison’s not pregnant. Cindy knew, though. She knew immediately.
“My baby! My baby!” she cried, pulling away from him, kissing her Alison. “I’m here. Shh. I’m here. I love you.”
Then it was his turn to lose steam. He fell into the chair next to his daughter. His daughter. Tubes everywhere. Cindy fixed Alison’s hair. She’s so pale. So many monitors.
Stop it. Stop it. I can’t do it. I need to take my girls home. Please. Stop it.
“I’m here, sweetheart. No one’s going to hurt you. I’m here,” Cindy said.
In an instant his screaming wife, who couldn’t balance her own body fourteen steps ago, had become a pillar. His wife. Her mother. Clear. Firm. Not crying.
She looked to him. “Come. Kiss her. Tell her you love her, Bill. She needs us now.”
The room was swarming with people in white coats, reading things. Knives, scissors.
No.
He was a loving father, but he did his loving in private. Quietly, he would tell his daughter to drive safely. On her wedding day, when he walked her down the aisle, he’d whispered the words to her. But today, above the noise, he would have to shout it. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I love you, Alison!” he boomed. “You’re the best daughter a man could ha…” His words were choked off by fear.
Then they were wheeling her away, fast. So fast he jogged to keep up, his keys jangling. He kissed her cheek, his bottom lip hitting the oxygen mask.
He looked to the pair of eyes next to him. Because there were masks, he could see no complete faces. “I want to stay with her. I love her,” he gasped.
And then it was Cindy holding him back. It was her grabbing him so he wouldn’t follow the bed. And then Alison was gone around a corner.
He looked at his wife. “What’s happening?”
She nodded and covered her mouth, pulling him hard against her. “She’s dying, Bill. They’re trying to save the baby.”
I want to bring her home. My girl.
28
Waiting
Although they were in different waiting rooms, Beckett could see Alison’s parents from where he waited with Eve, sitting one seat away from her, allowing some space. She hadn’t said much, but watched the parents carefully.
Morales had arrived and was in deep conversation with the local police. Eve had confirmed with him that Carly was likely safe now that Nicholas no longer breathed. And while she kept him busy, Beckett had called for backup via Treats and Shark. The scene at the house needed cleaning. It was awful that it had sat as long as it had.
Morales waltzed back into the waiting area rolling his eyes. “I just fed them so much bureaucratic bullshit they will hate the fuck out of me forever. And I don’t know how much time I bought you—or if you should even have time. What the hell is going on?”
“Turns out my father liberated one of my ovaries years ago,” Eve said flatly. “He never told me. But Rodolfo knew. He tortured that information out of my father and killed his way to find the frozen part of my body. Then used it to extract my eggs, which he fertilized and implanted in this poor woman. So there’s a good chance the girl in surgery is pregnant with mine and Rodolfo’s monster spawn.” She put her elbows on her thighs, holding her head.
Ryan sat down hard next to her. “No shit? That’s some crazy bullshit.”
Beckett leaned forward so he could see Ryan. “And that means that girl and those babies are in a lot of danger. I’ll do what I can to find out what I can, but Eve’s called the girl’s parents. They’re here, and they know we were involved on some level.”
“How involved were you?” Ryan asked.
Beckett shook his head, his mouth shut tight. He wasn’t telling this nut nugget shit.
Eve had other plans. “I shot Nicholas,” she confessed. “It was split-second choice. He tried to kill Alison.” She sat back in her chair. “He may have succeeded.”
Morales shook his head. “If they still have a person to work on in there, you did all right. Should have taken the cops from the Wawa with you. Didn’t that occur to you?”
“Nicholas was mine.” She leveled a stare at him before standing up. “They’re telling the parents something. Shit. Shit!”
Ryan stood as well. “I’ll see what I can hear.” He sauntered toward the other waiting room, looking official.
Beckett stood behind her and put one hand around her waist. She watched Ryan eavesdrop with everything she had.
There was crying, more breaking down from the girl’s poor bastard parents. He felt Eve swoon a bit before replanting her feet. She looked at his face, and he could see her fear.
Not again.
Morales double-timed it back to where they were standing. “The babies were delivered by emergency Caesarean. They went to the NICU. They’re alive, but pretty early. The mother died shortly after their birth. They think those babies are their grandchildren, by the way.” Ryan shrugged and put his hands in his pockets.
Eve turned from Ryan and buried her face in Beckett’s chest. He held her close and knew she was delicate. PDA was never her go-to for comfort. Morales took the cue and left the scene.
Beckett pulled her back into her chair as he sat, wrapping his arms around her.
“We’ll figure something out. Okay? We’ll get something worked out.”
Eve’s eyes were red, weary. She covered her heart with both hands, as if she was feeling it beat for the first time. “I’ve got to know. I have to know if they’re mine.” The hands over her heart started to shake.
“I’ll find a way.” He put one hand over both of hers and promised.
His phone vibrated, and he looked at the text from Shark:
It’s all gone. Someone was here.
Burned to the ground, charcoaled bodies.
“Fucking Rodolfo. He’s definitely still alive.”
Eve looked from his phone to his face. “What?”
“Scene’s toast, everything burned including the bodies, according to Shark. I called him and Treats in to clean up anything that needed it.”
She shook her head, blond hair framing her shoulders. She never failed to amaze him. The contrast of her here, having chosen to reveal them both so Alison’s parents could say good-bye, with the fact that he knew her brain was running a mile a minute reviewing murder scenes—she was so much more complicated than her pretty face revealed.
“We have to stay here,” she said. “Those babies. How are we going to do that?” She took a step toward the grandparents’ waiting room.
“They just lost their daughter. They need time to process this.” He touched her arm, trying to remind her of her place
. “Let them have a little space. There’s plenty of security around.”
She wrestled her fingers into a complicated knot. “We have to get Rodolfo. Soon. Now.”
“We will,” he assured her. “But first we have to get the hell out of here. They probably like us for this whole mess. And as soon as Morales stops seeming trustworthy, we’re going to be out of options on how to handle this.” He stood and offered her his hand. She took it, which she rarely did.
He pulled her to him and whispered into her ear. “I want you to go first, then I’ll act like I’m going to the vending machine. Okay?”
She nodded and pulled away from him, tucking her hands in her pockets and heading for the main exit door. She was out, and now it was his turn. He left to pretend to go to the vending machines in the opposite direction. He would to count to one hundred, then meet her in the parking lot. It wasn’t the first time they’d left a place all sneaky like.
Ryan watched their split and escape maneuver from his spot in the hallway with the other cops. When Taylor took off, he excused himself from his conversation with a local cop and traced Eve’s steps out of the building.
Her blond hair was a beacon under the huge parking lot lights, giving the dusk more clarity. She was nearing Taylor’s Challenger.
He’d almost caught up to her when she spun on her heel and pointed her gun at his head. And then they had the moment he’d dreaded. He’d believed in her, yet she was ultimately ready to kill him despite their friendship.
She was fast. She took in his stunned face and fired. He felt the bullet skim the air close to his cheek as he went to one knee. He’d taken aim at her heart, ready to return fire, when he noticed her gaze was just behind him and now, a bit over his head. With every explosion from her gun, she stepped forward until she was standing over him.
Eve crouched so her body was against his back. And then he heard her growl—a protective growl.
He yanked his leg out from under her, but the return gunfire kept him crouching. He assessed the scene. Four gunmen, possibly five. They were surrounded.
Saving Poughkeepsie Page 31
