SORRY CAN'T SAVE YOU: A Mystery Novel

by Willow Rose

I look up at him. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “You can’t incriminate someone without him even being a suspect in the eyes of the police. You can’t make a man a criminal in the eyes of the public based on circumstantial evidence. That’s not ethical.”

  He shrugs. “But it’s the truth, right?”

  I don’t answer. I stare out at the ocean as it grows darker still. The fact is, I don’t know for sure if it really was him that night in Duke’s house. I curse myself for never seeing his face properly.

  He was there. You saw him in the app. It looked like his truck in the driveway. Stop making excuses for him.

  “I’m sure he’ll be put to justice if it is him,” I say. “I still have faith in our justice system.”

  Frank scoffs. “So did I. So did my parents until we lost Clarice, and no one would be honest about what happened to her.”

  I nod and think about Sandra’s relatives, and especially her son Joe, Jr. How are they coping with all this? Do they believe the Air Force when they say it was suicide? And Ted’s family? He had a girlfriend living up north who he was about to marry later in the year. She was going to move down here and begin a new life on the base. I met her twice when she visited, and I really liked her. How’s she coping with all this? And Duke’s wife? She was out of town with all three of their kids when he was attacked in his house. She came home to a man in ICU. How’s she taking it? I had looked into the eyes of Frank’s parents and seen the despair, the grief. They knew they were being lied to. How do you move on from that? How do you ever trust again?

  Chapter 37

  I hear my daughter scream in her room. I run in there and see the roach sitting on the wall next to her bed. It’s the length of my finger and is moving fast. It’s crawling toward her, its antennas moving. Isabella shrieks and moves away, while I think about what to do. It has always been Ryan who took care of spiders and roaches. I hate those nasty bugs more than anything, especially how fast they shoot across the floor once they realize there is danger. One could survive a nuclear war, they say. I never understood what that meant until I tried to kill one myself.

  “Please, Mom, get it away from me.”

  I grab my shoe and lift it in the air, then let it fall onto the roach, closing my eyes. I smash it against the white wall. I slam my shoe against it over and over again, heart in my throat. I was in my bed when she screamed, and I got up a little too fast, thinking something terrible had happened. Now, I can’t seem to calm myself. I sit on her bed, panting and agitated, unable to relax.

  The roach has fallen to the tiles and is still moving its legs as I pick it up with toilet paper, wincing. I throw it in the toilet bowl and flush. I watch as it spins in the water and is sucked down into oblivion.

  The kids come into the kitchen, and I serve them breakfast, then run down to the mailbox and empty it. I grab my copy of USA Today and open it. My story is on the front cover, and seeing my byline under it makes my heart rate speed. It’s been a while since I last saw my name in a paper. I feel proud for a few seconds, then run back up and eat breakfast with the kids. I drive Damian to his school and drop him off, then continue to the base, where I show my ID to the guard and drive on toward the medical center where I park outside the yellow building.

  I hand Isabella over to the doctor, and she leaves with her, while I sit down on the bench to watch her. My phone rings and I walk outside to pick it up.

  It’s Frank.

  “My parents are thrilled. They told me to thank you for telling their story. Their phone has been ringing off the hook all morning with reporters who also want to hear it. They’re going to be on Good Morning America tomorrow morning. This is truly what they needed. We hope that this might persuade them to reopen her case. Thank you, Laurie. You have no idea how much you helped us.”

  I hang up with a sigh and look at Isabella through the window to the training room. She is taking a few steps on her own without anyone holding her, and the doctor looks excited. I bite my lip. Things seem to be clearing up now. I am even getting paid well for this article, and that should help me out financially, at least for a little while. My parents are on my case, pressuring me to get a divorce from Ryan so he can start paying alimony. They want to hook me up with a lawyer they know, to make sure he pays up. I’m not sure I am up for any of that just yet. I can’t really think very far ahead. I am just surviving today.

  Isabella spots me through the window and waves at me proudly. I wave back and give her a double thumbs up. I feel better today; I feel like I might actually get through this. I have done my best, and now it is beginning to pay off. The story is out there, and the media is throwing themselves at it. The ball is rolling, and it is out of my hands from now on. Hopefully, it means they’ll look closer at the three deaths. Hopefully, this means Clarice’s parents can finally get the closure they have wanted for so long. And, hopefully, I can begin to look ahead and plan for a future soon. For the first time in months, I actually feel okay; I feel like things could be okay.

  Later, I pick up Damian and take him to Publix with me. I let him pick a few items he wants, and he grabs a bag of candy and a toy F-16 fighter jet. It’s big and a little too expensive, but I tell him he can have it anyway, letting my guilty conscience control my spending. It’s not even his birthday, my mom would have said. He is playing with it while I throw food in the cart, then go through the cash register and pay. My boy is happy, playing loudly with the fighter jet, and the lady behind the register smiles at him. He does look cute with his tanned face and sun-made highlights.

  I take him to the car and drive home to Isabella, who is yelling at the computer because the online school system is lagging, and she can’t watch the learning video she’s supposed to go through today because she has to take the test tomorrow. I hate it when computers act up because I have no idea what to do about it, and again, I miss having a man in the house. I consider calling Frank, but then she suddenly tells me it’s working again, and I relax while unpacking the groceries. My parents call and check in on me, like usual. I can hear my mother is worried by the way her voice trembles lightly when asking how I’m doing. I can also hear that she is desperately trying not to sound worried. I assure them I am fine, and not just that, I am actually doing pretty good today.

  They don’t mention the article, even though I know they read it. I’m sure it just filled them with more worry and concern, so I don’t say anything either. We hang up, and I prepare what to cook for dinner, then go out on the balcony and drink a glass of white wine while listening to the ocean and enjoying the cool breeze. Temperatures are in the upper seventies now almost every day, so that ocean breeze is a great help. I never did well with intense heat, especially not the moist heat, and Florida sure is both hot and humid.

  I make spaghetti and meatballs, and we eat together, the three of us. Rosie is by my feet, looking at the door. She has been staying close to me since we moved. She’s kind of moping around, looking sad most of the time. I know she misses Ryan since he is her favorite, but the dog belongs to the children, and it goes where they go.

  After dinner, I take her for a walk on the beach. Damian comes with me, and we throw a ball for Rosie to fetch. It’s a beautiful night out, and as the sun sets, I feel like I never want it to end. Damian is laughing and sticking his feet in the water, then he runs to me and hugs me. I kiss the top of his head and ruffle his hair. I look up toward my condo and think about Isabella. I pray she will be able to walk on her own soon. I want her to come down here and be able to take a stroll with us. I want to see her run on the soccer field again. I want her to worry about normal things, like the prom, or the boy that she likes who doesn’t even look at her because he’s too shy.

  I think about the time when Ryan and I met. I can still feel the sensation deep within me, and it is overwhelming to think about. The way he looked at me, the way he’d kiss me, the way he’d tell me how amazing I was.

  Boy, I miss that.

  How di
d we get from that to this?

  It seems almost impossible.

  “Let’s go back up now, Mom,” Damian says and grabs my hand in his. “It’s getting dark and scary now.”

  I look down at my boy, then wonder how much he knows about what happened to his sister. We told him daddy’s gun went off by mistake, but I sense he knows it was a little more than that. After all, he has tried to sneak up on his father before and seen the result. I know there’ll be more questions as he grows older, and I’ll have to prepare myself for them. Hopefully, I’ll have the answers by then. Hopefully, they’ll be better than the ones I have right now.

  “You’re right, buddy. We need to get you to bed. It’s a school night,” I say.

  “Nooo,” he says, whining. “I don’t want to go to bed. I’m never going to bed!”

  I laugh and grab him by the waist, then swing him around in the air. We tumble to the sand, Rosie jumping on top of us, and lay there for a few minutes, simply laughing, while the darkness surrounds us as the sun sets behind the condominium.

  Chapter 38

  Damian sees him first. He’s standing in front of our door when we walk out of the elevator. My heart immediately stops, and I reach for Damian to keep him close, but it’s too late. The boy is already running toward him with his arms stretched out.

  “D-A-A-A-A-D!”

  Ryan takes the boy in his arms and lifts him. Rosie takes off and runs up to him as well, jumping up at him. Damian throws his arms around his father’s neck like he doesn’t want ever to let go again. The sight of the two of them together is cute, adorable even, if it wasn’t for the circumstances. I approach them slowly, heart in my throat. This is what I feared might happen one day. This is exactly what has been in my nightmares.

  Ryan tickles Damian’s stomach, and the boy laughs and worms around in his arms. He puts him down, then looks at me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. I think about the gun in my bedroom. Can I get to it fast enough if I need to?

  “I have to talk to you,” he says matter-of-factly. Like he is entitled to talk to me whenever he needs to. “Can I come in? It won’t be long.”

  I notice he’s sweating and wonder if he ran all the way up the stairs. I can see the muscle flex in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. There’s something about the look in his eyes that makes me flinch. He smells like alcohol.

  “You’re not allowed to come near us,” I say. “I have a restraining order out on you. You know you’re supposed to keep your distance and not approach us. I can have you arrested just for being here.”

  I try to sound like I mean it. I don’t want him to think I won’t call the cops, because I will. I am not afraid of contacting the police, no matter what he writes in those texts he thinks are anonymous. I am afraid, though, of what he might do to us if I do. Now that I know he knows where we live, I am suddenly a lot more terrified.

  Damian pulls my shirt eagerly. “I need to show dad my new fighter jet; can I show it to him, Mom?”

  I sigh. Ryan smiles. It looks smug like he is enjoying this. I’m sure he is.

  “Please, Mom?” Damian begs and drags it out. “Pl-e-e-a-se?”

  I look at my son. He knows I can’t say no to him. The way he looks at me makes me give in.

  “All right. But only for a second. Go to your room and get it.” I open the door and let Damian run inside. Ryan walks in with him, moving fast so I can’t stop him. This wasn’t my intention. I didn’t want him inside, but now it is too late. I can’t get my heart to calm down. I am on the verge of panic. He’s taken me completely by surprise. I didn’t think he even knew where we lived. I thought we were safe here.

  “So, this is where you’re staying, huh?” Ryan says, looking around. He is edgy. He’s moving fast and speaking fast. I wonder if he is on something other than alcohol. Is it just the painkillers, or is it more now? Harder drugs? It wouldn’t surprise me at this point.

  “I guess it’s okay. How do you afford it? Are Mom and Dad paying?”

  “How did you find us?” I say.

  “I followed you,” he says. “This morning, when you went to training with Isabella, I followed you here. I rang all the buttons until someone let me in.”

  I sigh. Of course, he did. He knew what time I usually go to physical therapy with her. He’s known since that day he was sitting on the bench. It’s as easy as that, I guess. I was never safe here, was I? He could have found me at any point he wanted to.

  Damian runs up to him, holding his plane, looking up at him proudly. “Isn’t it cool, Dad? It’s an F-16 Thunderbird. Is it like the planes you flew over there, is it? Look, it has missiles and everything, and it can even make a sound if you push there.”

  Ryan smiles and looks at the plane. He grabs it between his hands and turns it in the light for a few seconds, then pretends to be flying it, making whooshing sounds. Smiling, he hands it back to him. “It sure is very nice, buddy. That is one very cool fighter jet. Just like the real ones. Did Mom give you that?”

  He nods eagerly.

  “Mom’s the best,” Ryan says, then looks up at me. “Don’t you think so?”

  Damian nods. He is biting his cheek like he is wondering about something.

  “Okay, cut it out,” I say. “Damian, go to your room.”

  Damian gives me a look of surprise. “But…?”

  “Now,” I say.

  “M-o-o-m!”

  “NOW!”

  The boy slumps his shoulders, but he obeys. He slams the door to his and Isabella’s room to make sure I understand he is not satisfied, but I ignore it. This is what is best for him right now. I can’t have him here, listening to what his dad and I are talking about or even risking him getting hurt if things go south. I hope he’s not telling Isabella that Ryan is here. I don’t know how she’s gonna react if she sees him here. She hasn’t seen him since the incident. I can’t have her see him. I can’t put her in that situation. I need to get him out of our apartment now.

  I turn to look at Ryan. I am tired of these games. I don’t feel safe with him here. I have to find out what he wants and then get rid of him as fast as possible.

  “Why are you here? Why have you come?”

  He runs a hand across his shaved head, rubbing it. He seems nervous, out of sorts. He is a mess. He has patches of sweat under his arms and on his chest, and his pants don’t seem to fit him anymore. As soon as Damian is out of sight, and his eyes land on me, I see the anger in them, and I take a quick step backward, startled.

  “Have you lost your mind?” he asks, throwing out his arms violently. “Have you completely lost it?”

  I breathe heavily, agitated and scared, and take another step back. I hope the kids will stay in their room and not come out when they hear him yell.

  “Ryan, you’re not allowed to…”

  “I don’t give a damn what I am allowed to do,” he says, spitting. “You’re my wife, and you have crossed a line here. Are there no boundaries, no limits to what you will do to hurt me? To how far you’ll go? How could you write that article, huh? How could you put your name on that total piece of crap?”

  “Ryan…I’m warning you,” I say and take another step back as he leans forward. There is so much anger in his eyes, more than the time he grabbed my throat. “I’ll call the police. They’ll arrest you.”

  “You’re bluffing,” he says, waving his hand at me. “I am the father of your children, goddammit. How could you do this to me? How could you embarrass me like that? You know what happened today after your little article came out, huh? Do you know what happened?”

  “I’m warning you, Ryan, one step closer, and I’ll make that call.”

  He doesn’t seem to care anymore. He has crossed the line long ago, and now there is no going back. I see it in his eyes; he has made the decision. Harassing me and yelling at me are worth going to jail for. He doesn’t care anymore.

  “Chip called me in for a little chat. He wanted me to set you straight. Told me to get my wif
e back in line. Do you have any idea how that felt, huh? Do you?”

  Ryan takes another step toward me, and I lift my hand to stop him from coming closer. He pauses, then passes his hand over his mouth, nervously rubbing his chin.

  “You have got to stop this,” he says. “This harassment. This war you’re waging against me. I know I made a mistake, all right? It torments me daily that I accidentally shot our daughter. But accusing me, accusing the Air Force of…covering up murder? Where does all that come from? I’ll tell you where…from that twisted mind of yours. You see murder and ghosts everywhere. And it is hurting everyone around you. It has got to stop, Laurie, do you hear me?”

  As he speaks, he reaches out his hand and grabs my arm. His eyes are dark, angry. He is holding it so forcefully it hurts.

  “Ryan, stop it. Let go,” I say, but he doesn’t listen.

  “You’ve gone completely insane. It’s crazy; can’t you see it? You talked to that OSI investigator, didn’t you? They told me someone came in and said I was seen at Sandra’s house and Ted’s house. You’re the only one who saw me, Laurie; it could only be you. How could you do this to me? How could you betray me, your husband, like this? I thought we loved one another. Now, because of that article, they’ve called me in again for further questioning, they say. Because of what you wrote. Because of you! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  “Ryan, let go of my arm,” I yell, but he squeezes it harder. He is holding me so tight; I can’t move.

  That’s when the door opens to the children’s bedroom, and Isabella comes out. Her eyes grow terrified as she sees her dad holding me.

  “Isabella, honey, stay in your room,” he says, trying to sound sweet, but it makes him sound even creepier. I can tell she’s frightened. This is a little too similar to the night when she ended up getting shot.

  He continues, trying to sound like it’s nothing…like she shouldn’t worry, “Mom and Dad are just discussing something.”