by Sarah Zettel
“Oh, for f— Why?!”
But it was Todd who answered. “Because your mother has been hiding client money in fake accounts and using your father’s name to do it.” He sighed heavily. “And mine, for that matter. And your grandmother’s.”
What he was saying made no sense. There was no possible alternate universe in which Dad could be slouched there with this utter loser saying Mom had stolen from her clients.
“I know you probably don’t know much about your mother’s business,” said Todd softly. “I mean, why would you? She’s never been…really careful about where her money comes from. But she is very careful about what she does with it, and, well, careful’s not always the same as legal, is it? Anyway, the feds are finally going to catch up with her.”
“How do you even know this?”
“I told you. Some of the accounts are under my name,” said Todd. “That’s the real reason why me and Jeannie were in Chicago. We were answering questions. At least, we were supposed to. We couldn’t actually tell them much.”
“Oh, this is so much bullshit.”
“I know what it sounds like, Dana,” said Todd sadly. “But I just need you to hear me out, okay? That’s all.”
“Why should I?”
“Because none of us want you to get hurt,” said Dad.
“Us!” She couldn’t stop shouting. She couldn’t think straight. It was like she’d suddenly walked into some kind of bizarro mirror world where everything was backward.
“Your father’s told me the kind of things your mom has said about us,” said Todd. “About us being criminals. About us running drugs and kidnapping her from her grandmother. All that.”
“Well, it’s true!”
“No, Dana. It isn’t. None of it.”
“Yeah, and I suppose it’s not true that you hit your wife right in front of me!”
Todd winced. “Yeah, okay, that was bad. I admit that. I…I have a temper, and…I’d been sitting in a room answering questions for three days, or trying to. I thought I was going to jail—I really did. And then I found out that Jeannie was planning on warning your mother about the investigation…I just lost it. I just lost it.” He looked out the French doors to the pool and the parking lot. “I just hope one day Jeannie will be able to forgive me, because I’m never going to be able to forgive myself.”
“You’re a liar!” Dana shouted at Todd. “He’s a liar!” she shouted at her father.
Dad just looked at her with his sad, shadowed eyes and said nothing at all.
Dana shoved both hands into her hair as if she were trying to keep her head from flying off. She had to get out of here, right this second. Because something terrifying was happening in her. Something was twisting in her mind, trying to lay what Todd was saying over top of what she knew was the truth. Memory and reality were both shifting, right inside her.
“Dana, please!” Dad started halfway to his feet but didn’t make it and just dropped back down. “I’m trying to help you. Your mom—she’s got problems.”
“We tried to help her, but we didn’t have the money,” Todd said. “She’s kept you away from us all this time because she didn’t want you to know how badly she’s been lying her whole life.”
Dad nodded, way too fast.
“We realized something was wrong when she was little,” Todd said. “Even then, she was always lashing out. She’d lie and argue about every little thing. None of the teachers could control her. We couldn’t keep her in school. We were constantly driving around to all these appointments, one specialist after another, to try to figure out what was wrong. And they just kept putting her on all these pills…I mean, it felt like dozens some days. She wouldn’t take them, and I almost couldn’t blame her,” he added in a whisper. “Anyway, nothing helped, and in the end…she just ran away.” His hands fell to his sides. “We looked for her for years. But every time we got close, she’d disappear again. Finally, we just stopped trying.
“We tried to keep an eye out, you know, a little, online and stuff. But we were scared in case she got mad…She could be so violent. We didn’t want to set her off.”
Red. Red and stars and the hard sidewalk and more red on Mommy’s hands and her feet and her face and…
No. No. Don’t listen. This is not true!
“But then, the feds found us, and they were asking questions about her. We couldn’t tell them much, but…we were worried, and we thought maybe, because of you, we should tell your dad, so he could get you away before…well, before it all came crashing down.”
Dad jumped in. “And that’s when we found out about the money stuff, and we started putting two and two together.”
“That’s what’s going on, Dana,” said Todd. “That’s the truth.”
Do not let this guy use his spin on you. None of this is the truth, and you know it!
Dana folded her arms. “Then how come Jeannie wants to leave you, huh? How come she’s in the hospital dying of cancer and saying—”
“I know where she is,” said Todd softly. “I heard from her just this morning.”
“You…she called you?”
“Yeah. Jeannie’s terrified. Your mom was threatening her. I’m…I’m surprised she even let her get as far out of sight as the hospital.”
Dad was trying to smile, but he just looked as sick as she felt. “Dana, I know what a shock this is, but there’s no need to panic. There’s a way out for everybody. That’s what we want to talk to you about. We just need you to do one thing.”
Dana scowled. “What?”
Dad rubbed his hands together again, and he glanced at Todd, like he was asking permission. Dana threw her hands up and let them drop—slap—against her sides.
“We told you—your mother has a bunch of accounts with the money she’s hidden,” Dad said. “They’re all password-protected and stuff. All you have to do is find the account numbers and passwords, and give them to me. I’ll give them to the investigators when they show up. Then they’ll know I had nothing to do with any of this.”
You think this is about you! For a minute, Dana thought she was going to be sick. Then she thought she might laugh. Finally, something was exactly like normal. Her father was in the middle of an enormous disaster and worrying about what would happen to him.
And she had no idea how she was going to pull him out of it.
Except maybe one.
Dana faced Todd and put her back to her father. She couldn’t stand to see him sitting there, all hunched over and rubbing his hands. “You say you’re telling me the truth? How about this truth? Who’s Thomas Jankowski? Deborah Ann Watts?” She paused to make sure she had his full attention. She so did. “How about Robert MacNamera Early?”
Todd’s whole body stiffened, and for a split second, she thought she saw fear behind his eyes.
“Dana, what are you talking about?” demanded Dad.
“I’ll tell you.” Dana took her father’s wrist. “But not in front of this guy. Come on.” She tugged his arm.
Why do I even care what Dad does? But she did care. Todd Bowen—or Thomas Jankowski or whoever the hell—was playing some kind of con game, and Dad was already in trouble. If she didn’t get him out of here, it’d just get worse, and then it’d be her fault. She had to try.
But Dad didn’t move. “Dana, you have to help me,” he pleaded. “If you don’t do this, I’m going to go to prison!”
Todd turned his back, like he couldn’t stand to witness any more.
“I cannot believe you’re actually buying this shit! Jesus, Dad, I knew you were stupid, but—”
Todd looked back over his shoulder. “You see how she’s taught your daughter to talk to you? You see what she is?”
“If I can just get the accounts, then I’m in the clear. I can tell Susan I’m cooperating, and we’ll be okay, and you can come stay with us until…”
“Until you can figure out how to unload me on somebody else!” screamed Dana. “It’s a lie, Dad! It’s all a great, big lie!” An
d a bunch of little lies, all wrapped up together so you won’t think about them too hard. “I cannot believe I even came here! That I even ever tried…”
Tears blinded her. Her throat burned. Dana whipped around and headed for the door.
“You come back here!” Dad shouted. “I am not going to jail over something she did!”
He was on her before Dana knew what was happening. He grabbed her by her shoulders, and he dragged her backward into the kitchenette and shoved her against the counter. The edge bit into her back and she shrieked. But he didn’t let go.
You’ve never really seen how desperate…Chelsea’s voice sounded in her brain. In front of her, Dad’s face was red and swollen and blurred. He was shaking her, jarring her back against the counter edge.
“Stop it!” she screamed.
“You will listen to me!”
Dana didn’t even know how her hand moved, but it did and it dived into her pocket and it came up with the nail file.
Dad saw the flash, and some instinct took over and he let go.
Dana gasped. Her head hurt, and her back hurt where it had banged against the counter. Stars. She saw stars, and red…
And Todd Bowen.
Todd hadn’t moved. He hadn’t come to help either one of them. He’d just stood there and watched.
Dana wiped her mouth with her free hand. Her face was covered in her own spit. “Dad, I don’t know what this douche has told you, but he is not some kind of good guy! And I am walking out of here right now.”
“Dana,” her father croaked. He held up his hands again—surrender, calm down, help me. “Stop being ridiculous and put that down. Listen to me…”
“No! What is your fucking issue, Dad? Look this guy up on the internet, why don’t you? There’s a whole video with him hitting his wife and Mom getting in the way! Now he’s mad that she got Jeannie away from him! She’s leaving the asshole, and I. Am. Leaving. You!”
Dana turned. She meant to run out the door, but Todd was there, even faster than Dad had been. He grabbed her wrist.
“Hey!” Dad shouted.
Dana twisted and yanked down, breaking his hold. She kicked out, but her sneakers didn’t have much impact, and Dad hauled her back at the same time.
“No, wait. Look…” Dad let her go to step between them, but Todd shoved him back into Dana, and she screamed and heaved him sideways with everything she had. He stumbled and slid, and his head came down—smack!—against the counter.
And Dad crumpled onto the kitchen floor.
“Dad!” Dana dropped down next to him. He looked at her vaguely. There was a straight line on his forehead, and it blossomed red.
“Oh Jesus,” Dana gasped. “Dad, get up!” She tried to get her arm under his shoulders. “Dad, come on—help me! We have to get…”
“You are not leaving.” Todd loomed over them. “You are going to obey your father.”
“You shut up!” Dana screamed. She still had the nail file in her hand, and she pointed it right at Todd. “And back off!”
She did not like the way Todd was looking at her, did not like the calculations running in those blue eyes. She brandished the nail file at him and tugged on Dad’s sleeve at the same time. “Dad, Dad, please. Get up. We gotta go now.”
“Oh Jesus,” Dad gasped and tried to lever himself up off the floor. He looked confused. He pressed his fingers against his head and saw the blood on his hand and looked up at Todd like he’d never seen the man before. “We were just gonna scare her!”
“WHAT?!” The force of her scream pulled Dana to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said from the floor. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake. It was stupid. You’re right. We’ll…we’ll go. Really.”
“No,” said Todd grimly. “You really won’t. Not until we get this settled.”
“Dana!”
Someone was banging on a door. It sounded like it was coming from the…bedroom?
“Dana! I’m here!”
“Jeannie?” How…?
It didn’t matter. Dana lunged for the door, but Todd grabbed her around the waist and spun her. Dana got the file up, but Todd pulled her past him, and she fell sprawling across her father’s chest.
Dad shrieked and sat up, and Dana rolled off him and scrambled to sit up. She groped across the tile floor for the nail file, but she couldn’t find it.
Where is it?
“Dana!” screamed her grandmother.
Dad was clawing at his stomach. Dark red stained his shirt, where the nail file stuck out between the buttons, a stupid little white nubbin.
It had gone all the way in. Almost.
Dad stared, confused. Then, he yanked it out. Blood fountained, gushed, and smacked her in the face. Dana screamed. She tasted hot iron and salt and gagged hard.
“Oh fuck!” screamed Jeannie from…somewhere.
Then, all at once, she was right there. She grabbed Dana’s shoulders, dragging her backward, hauling her to her feet. Turning her away. Dad choked. Now Dana screamed. Now she fought, but Jeannie held her tightly.
“No, honey—no, don’t look.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, what’s happening? What do we do…?”
Jeannie’s bony hand cupped the back of Dana’s skull and pressed Dana’s face to her shoulder. “Come on, hon-bun. We gotta go now. Come on.”
Some shred of sense, or fear, made Dana try to push away. “I can’t. We…I can’t…I didn’t mean to…”
“We’re going!” snapped Jeannie.
There was noise from outside, and she was jostled sideways. Grandma just pushed Dana’s face down against her shoulder again. Someone was grunting. There was a tearing noise.
Grandma wouldn’t let her lift her head up. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but we gotta keep going.”
Still holding her tight, Jeannie shoved her forward.
Fear robbed Dana of any ability to think. She couldn’t even see straight. She was being pushed and shoved into the dark away from everything…away from everybody…
This was wrong, this was wrong, this was all wrong.
Memory boiled over and sloshed hard into the real world. Sweating hands held and pushed her. Someone was right behind her, pushing her too fast, bumping right up against her, shoving her. She wanted to stop, she couldn’t stop, they wouldn’t let her stop.
Where did Mommy go? Oh! There she is. Come on!
She wanted Mommy, but she couldn’t see Mommy, and the person was pushing her, hurting her, moving her farther away from Mommy, from help, from everything.
And this time Mommy wasn’t coming to save her.
Dana lurched into the present long enough to be aware of being shoved into a car’s back seat. Grandma climbed in behind her, slammed the door. Clicked the lock.
“Did he hurt you? Come on, honey. Let me see!” Grandma’s twig-like fingers grabbed her chin, twisting her head this way and that. She grabbed Dana’s hands, checking her arms. “Okay, okay,” Grandma was muttering. “You’re okay, hon. You’re okay.”
I need to get out of here. Something was missing, something was wrong, but she couldn’t think what it was.
“Shit.”
The car’s front door was yanked open. A man threw himself into the driver’s seat.
“Go! Go!” screamed Grandma. The driver gunned the engine, and the force of the acceleration shoved Dana backward.
I gotta get out of here. She knew the car was moving, but she reached for the door handle anyway.
“Jesus! No, no, you gotta get down—get down.”
Dana was pressed down onto the floor. She was shaking. She was cold. Except for her palms and her legs. The places where the blood smeared across her skin. Those burned.
Something was missing. Lost. Gone.
Me. I’m gone. I’m lost.
Tires squealed, and the car slowed. She tried to sit up, but Grandma pushed her down again.
“Stay down, honey. Here, I’m going to cover you up, okay? You just stay down and keep breat
hing.”
Something—a blanket—was pulled over her. Dana huddled under it, crouched on the floor of the back seat. Crumbs and gravel dug into her knees and shins and palms. Every bump rattled her teeth. Her chin banged against the wheel well, and she bit her tongue. More blood. She smelled gasoline and mildew and old coffee and maybe piss.
She couldn’t stop shaking. She’d never stop shaking.
It was too much. She couldn’t stand it. She wanted it to all go away. It had to go away. It couldn’t be real. It had to be gone.
And for a while, it was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Beth was out of the town car before it stopped moving.
The ride had been a nightmare. The college-kid driver had done everything he could—run every stop sign and light. Clipped fenders. Took corners like a lunatic. And it still took too long. She was still sick and filled with stark, blazing panic.
Get inside. She stumbled across the parking lot. Find the lobby, find the desk. Tell them…tell them…
But movement caught her eye. One of the ground-level rooms had its glass door wide open. Curtains flapped in the breeze.
Shit! Beth bolted past the pool enclosure and straight for the open door.
She shoved her way through the stiff fabric and into the room.
A thick cloud of stink rose up around her. She recognized it instantly. Iron. Copper. Fear. The smell jammed itself into her throat and tore open the membrane between her and all her nightmares. Beth’s hands curled and released reflexively, dropping the gun she’d dropped years ago. Her ears rang from the shot. Her shoulder hurt from the kick of the gun. The blood stung her eyes and her skin.
Robert MacNamera Early lay in the kitchenette, a limp and untidy bundle like a broken doll all covered in fresh red paint.
Except it wasn’t Bob Early on the floor this time. It was Doug.
People said the dead look surprised. They were wrong. With their open eyes and slack jaws, the dead look terrified and confused. Doug looked like he wanted so desperately to ask why all this had happened. Because whatever it was, it was not his fault.
This life. This death. This hotel room, this bed, this floor, and all this blood. There was blood on the cabinets and the fridge too, and on the door to the hallway. It oozed black and putrid from the tear in his shirt and pooled red in the gaping slash across his throat.
