Armand looked up at Michelle, still standing in the center of the room. His light gray eyes softened her approach as tears pelted his face. She felt them painting her face, too. She fell to the floor, bringing her knees tight into her chest as her anger faded, giving in to the hurt simmering beneath its cover.
“How could you do that to us? To me?”
“I was wrong, and I am so, so sorry Michelle. You mean the world to me. You are my everything.”
Michelle dried her face with the back of her palm. “Quoting lyrics from songs now?”
“What are you talking about? I’m speaking from my heart, MK.”
“Toni Braxton. How appropriate.”
“Michelle—”
“Wrong song, though. ‘Love Shoulda Brought You Home.’ That’s the one on repeat for me. ‘See, it doesn’t matter what you say this time ’cause our whole relationship is built on one lie.’”
“Give me another chance.”
“That will never happen,” Michelle answered through sniffles. “Death was imminent from inception. We never really had a shot.”
Armand sat back on the couch, sinking farther toward the ground. “This is not the end of us. I won’t let it end like this.”
Michelle, now with her legs twisted like a pretzel beneath her, twiddling with a stray piece of thread hanging from her blouse, retorted. “From where I’m sitting, you don’t have a choice.”
Chapter 49
He wanted this to be over. He wanted Lisa to be better and Brianna to come home. Frank missed his family. He missed his dysfunctional, emotionally paralyzed family. He would give all the money he had to sit in the living room with his two favorite girls, cloaked in an uncomfortable silence, paying for the chance to look at them without fearing for their safety or needing to defend his loving them.
He lay in the bed, holding his wife’s feverish body close to his, pretending to enjoy the full-blown sauna beneath his collared shirt as she scorched him with her heat. He feigned gratitude that he was not saying goodbye to her cold, lifeless body. The truth was far more difficult to contend with: he wanted her neither blistering hot, nor freezing cold. He wanted her healthy.
Besides, as warm as she made him, he could only imagine how magnified her discomfort was in comparison to his. She could not escape her 101.3-degree cocoon. She was trapped, much like he was, by his need to touch her, to glean what little strength she had to offer him. Together they lay like this for an hour each day. It was their time.
Lisa’s body was failing her. Frank’s untrained eye had not detected the infection the doctor suspected lived in her lungs after examining her. Her resting heart rate was over 90 beats per minute, far more than normal for someone engaged in little to no physical activity. She had become so frail in such a short period of time that Frank feared she might slip away. She received her nourishment intravenously.
Despite the fact that the private doctor promised to expedite the results from the screening and the other tests performed, there was still no word yet on what was taking Lisa away from him. The wait required Frank to tap into a kind of abstemious way of life that he was not accustomed to. He never waited for anything. Everything he had ever acquired, he did so by figuring out how to bypass the wait. His college degree, meeting the stipulations to get his inheritance, or even becoming a member of his family: he had found a shortcut. There had to be one out of this predicament as well, a faster way to heal Lisa, determine who was threatening her safety, and reunite his family.
Lisa had been without an anesthetic since Frank’s conversation with Dr. Brunti. The private doctor could not prescribe anything new without knowing what was currently in her system. Lisa spent the majority of each day in dreamland, which Frank preferred to her being awake and suffering. He hovered over her, pressing his lips against her forehead until the heat became unbearable. Reaching over her body to the bedside table, he pulled the towel out of the bowl of ice water, wrung it out, and dabbed her cheeks and neck with it before stretching it across her forehead.
Frank tried to convince himself that all of this, the private doctor and the security, would amount to something, that his decision to keep her home was for the best, but he could not be sure. His wife was dying in front of him, and he felt powerless to stop it. He still had no contact information for his daughter, no way of reaching her, and perhaps that was best. Four days had passed since they returned from the island, and he was no closer to the answers he sought. Heavily armed guards flanked the house on all sides, no more than ten feet between each other, but Frank felt exposed.
I could use your help, Lisa. Tell me what to do, babe. Give me something, please.
“Frank . . .” Lisa’s brittle voice broke into his thoughts.
“Lisa, baby, I’m here.”
“Wa–wa–wa . . .”
“Water? I got it. One sec.” Frank rolled off the bed, quickly walking around to her side where the table sat, holding all the comfort he could give her: a bowl of ice chips and a pitcher of water. After pouring Lisa a fresh glass, he held the neck of the straw between his fingers, keeping it in Lisa’s mouth until she had her fill. This was the second part of their routine. The same time each day, plus or minus a minute, they would share this small moment. Frank was convinced that Lisa braved lucidity just for him. Frank spoke to her often, but she could not respond, and only faith envisioned her ability to comprehend.
“I . . . love . . . you.”
“I love you, too.”
Within seconds of him uttering those four words, she drifted back into the realm ruled by unconscious thought. He sat back in the chair, watching her rest for a moment. He could not see her organs slowly shutting down from the poison ravaging her system, but he knew it was happening. Lisa was depending on him, and he had to come through for her.
He rose to his feet, kissed her once more, and walked into the hall where he knew Simmy would be waiting.
“Yo, Frank, how is she today?”
“No change. Anything from the doctor yet?”
“This fax came in, yo. I didn’t want to bother you.” Simmy handed him the paper in his hand. “It’s a picture or something.”
“This is from Baptiste. This is from the surveillance footage at the hospital.”
“Video from a hospital?”
Frank looked at Simmy. He could see the question before he asked.
“Yo, come on. You look like you seen a ghost or something,” Simmy said.
“Someone is trying to kill Lisa.”
“I guessed that much. Can a brotha get some details, yo?”
Frank waved Simmy down the hall toward his office. Maybe it was time to let Simmy in a bit on what was going on. “My office.”
Simmy floated down the hall to Frank’s office. Frank motioned for the return of the guards normally posted outside of his bedroom before joining Simmy. Once inside his office, Frank closed the door.
He took a seat behind his desk. Simmy sat facing him. “This information is for your ears only, Simmy. I am serious. I don’t know who I can trust at this point. My best friend, Jacob, does not even know that I am back in town. No one knows anything until I get a handle on this.”
“I don’t know nobody but you, yo. Who I’m goin’ to tell?”
“Simmy.”
“I ain’t sayin’ nothing. What’s up?”
“Resort in Saint-Martin. Someone broke into her suite, tried to stab her. I must have startled them. I found her when I came out of the bathroom.”
“Yo, that is crazy.”
“At the hospital, they tried to finish the job. Pretended to be her doctor, injected her with something. I don’t know what yet.”
“No wonder you got these CIA/FBI/DEA wannabes walking round here. Do you think they was following you through the airport?”
Frank shook his head. “No, I don’t know. That was a different situation. They could have been, but that wasn’t my main concern at that time.”
Simmy’s eyes grew wide. “It wasn’t?
For real, yo? Something bigger than some ninja chameleon assassin tryin’ to merk yo’ wife, yo?”
Frank had to laugh. The notion of something being worse than that was preposterous but no less true. “Yeah, something worse than that.”
“Don’t hold out on me, yo.”
“Nothing more to tell right now.” Frank trusted Simmy, but he was too unpredictable to be knowledgeable about everything. Frank needed to keep some things to himself. “Has Baptiste called back yet?”
“Nah, not yet. Why?”
“Nothing.” Frank leaned back in his chair, thinking about his next move.
“What was on the paper?”
“I can’t really tell. This fax is hard to make out. The quality is shit.”
Simmy nodded in agreement. “This is off topic or whatever, but I heard you the other day, yo. Talkin’ ’bout you know what I did.”
“And?”
“So, what you know ’bout it?”
“I know enough, but my focus is on Lisa. Period. All else is irrelevant.”
“Yeah, all right.”
Ring, ring, ring.
Maintaining eye contact with Simmy, Frank answered the phone. “Hello? This is Frank Mason.... Right now? Gate number? I’ll send someone to get you.” Frank looked at Simmy, suggesting that he would be the lucky someone.
Simmy looked around the room, underneath his chair, and over both shoulders in search of this someone Frank would send to the airport. “Me?”
“I’m not leaving Lisa.”
“But I’m not from here. I don’t even know how to get to the airport, yo.”
“Google Maps, Mapquest, Car Navi. Pick one and use it.”
“You can’t get Agent M or P or one of them to do it?”
“I am sure I want you to go get Detective Baptiste from the airport.”
“Fine. I’ll go. I’m takin’ the drop top, though.” Simmy got up to leave. “Wait, do I look po’? I need to look like I got money. I don’t want no issues with DPD.”
“Just go.”
Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Ring.
Frank hit the intercom. “Doctor Utawa, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Chapter 50
She pulled into the circular drive, shifting the car into park, and sat for a while. Her emotions swirled like a little girl meeting her date’s parents for the first time, except she was no little girl, and this reunion was nearly twenty-four years overdue. If there were some other way to guarantee her survival, she would take it, but she could not see a way around this. She needed him as much as she hated to admit it.
Her heart protested what she was about to do, but she turned that part of herself off. This was about strategy, not emotion. She had to make certain sacrifices to ensure her freedom, and this was one of them. She got out of the car, padding gingerly to the front door, and rang the doorbell. She could hear the tones echoing throughout the mansion.
She braced herself as a shaky hand slowly opened the door, welcoming her inside. “Mr. Freemont isn’t expecting any company.”
The tiny voice, fractured but tinged with the progression of time, was music to Sophie ears. A single tear fell from her eyes as she took in her old friend’s aged, frail form. Standing before her was the only person she knew to have loved her unconditionally. Sophie stepped inside the door, admiring the old, massive foyer, while her old friend closed the door behind her. She had not yet realized who she was, and Sophie wasn’t sure what it would mean to tell her right now.
“If you don’t mind waiting, I can get him for you.”
Sophie did not offer a verbal response. With a nod of her head, she agreed to wait. She followed the mild-mannered woman into the sitting room and took a seat before the woman disappeared into the house. Sophie stood, wandering about the room, touching and remembering her time there. Not much had changed, as far as she could tell. She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice when the person whom she had come to see joined her in the room.
“Sophie?”
His tenor, crusted from years of choking on cancer sticks, struck a nerve, sending the hairs all over her body to their feet.
“Sophie, my darling, is that you?”
Sophie turned to lay eyes on her father. “Hello, Daddy.”
“Come here, child. Come here, now, please,” Richard requested with his arms outstretched.
Sophie hesitated, not sure what to make of his kindness.
“Come on. It’s been a long time. Such a long time.”
Sophie relented and walked over to her father, allowed him to hug her for as long as he needed. “Daddy.”
Time had been kind to him. Even in his old age, he still stood tall, towering above his daughter. His embrace was strong, like his age hadn’t weakened him at all.
“You look good, Daddy.”
“Today is good. Best day in a long time.”
Sophie couldn’t ignore the smile he wore. His eyes glistened like new diamonds.
“Come, sit. We can visit over here,” he stated, pointing to the couches. Sophie followed close behind him. “I am very glad to see you, Sophie. Very glad.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Daddy. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I would be welcome here, considering how I left.” Sophie was still hesitant around him as they sat down and got comfortable. She still couldn’t believe she shared the same space with him. The whole exchange was surreal.
Sophie watched a sadness interrupt his joy.
“I have done a lot of things I regret, Sophie. My biggest holes were with you and your sister. I cannot undo what I did, but I am sorry. I should not have run you away like that.”
Sophie was so shocked that she couldn’t respond. Out of all the things she had expected to hear, an apology was not on the list. She sat speechless and continued listening.
“It killed your mother. I thought I was doing the right thing for the Freemont name, but I was wrong.” He grabbed her hand, held it gently. “I was wrong, Sophie. You are my daughter, and I love you. I am sorry, so very sorry that I ever made you feel different. The things that I made you do for me . . . awful things. Things no child should do. I am ashamed of myself.”
“Daddy, this is a little hard to believe.”
“Time has a way of breaking people, and when I lost your mother, it broke me. I am not that man anymore, Sophie, and I hope you can forgive an old man.”
“Daddy . . .”
“The drugs, the lies, the fake relationships, and all the secrets I made you carry. No parent should do those things to their children. I was supposed to protect you, but I didn’t. I made you vulnerable.”
As much as she absorbed the confessional her father had doled onto her lap, she needed to stop the deluge so she could get to the heart of the matter. “I am not weak, Daddy. We can figure out the past another time. The reason I came here is that I am more like you than I care to admit. I have survived all this time, but I am in trouble now. I came here because I need your help.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The police are searching my home right now. Looking for evidence, Daddy.”
“Evidence of what?”
“I am so scared, Daddy. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You came to the right place. You came home. Tell Daddy what is going on.”
“I killed a man, Daddy. I don’t want to go to jail for it.”
Richard sat up, rested his back against the cushions, and looked Sophie directly in her blue eyes. “Did he deserve it, child?”
“Yes, Daddy. Yes, Daddy, he deserved it.”
“Good. Daddy will take care of it. No Freemont has ever seen the inside of a jail cell, and none ever will. Don’t worry.”
Sophie smiled, bursting into tears. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! I have something that might help.” Sophie stood, reached into her pants, and pulled out the manila envelope she had hidden there. “I snuck this out of the house when I left.”
Richard smiled. “I guess you are a lot like your father.
What’s in this?”
“My insurance policy, Daddy. If worst comes to worst, that is my get out of jail free card.”
Chapter 51
Sophie’s home was crawling with police officers when Dr. Baxter and Brianna pulled into the driveway. Brianna followed Dr. Baxter into the house in search of her mother. They had come to question her about their familial situation, but upon seeing the number of police officers present, it no longer seemed all that important, at least for the moment.
Brianna stopped an officer. “Excuse me, where is my mother? The owner of this house?”
“I am sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Has she been arrested for something?”
“I cannot speak with anyone regarding this case besides the owner of this house, but I can tell you that we have not taken anyone into custody today.”
“So, my mother’s here?”
“I don’t know. Possibly.”
Brianna felt her patience waning, but she needed to remain calm for the baby. She was still in her first trimester, and stress could complicate her pregnancy.
Dr. Baxter weaved his way through the crowd, back to where she stood by the front door.
“Anything?”
Dr. Baxter shook his head. “She is not here. An officer ran into her earlier in the bathroom and said that she told him she was leaving.”
“Do you have any idea where she is?”
“Not a clue. Think your sister might know?”
“Maybe, but she isn’t speaking to me right now.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, I don’t. I want to pretend like it never happened.”
“Well, we need to find your mom. What’s your sister’s number?”
Brianna handed Dr. Baxter her cell phone. “Look under Twin.”
As Brianna looked around the scene, something made her increasingly uncomfortable, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “What is going on here?”
Dr. Baxter looked at her, quickly looking away. She could tell he was hiding something.
Virtuous Deception 2 Page 31
