by Beth Flynn
When I’d told Tommy it was getting harder and harder to get Mimi to go to school, he paid a visit to Marigold’s father and told the man, “Every time my little girl comes home from school crying because of your daughter, I’m going to come see you and punch you in the face. It’s that simple. My daughter hurts, you’re going to hurt.”
Tommy told me how the guy scoffed at him. “Kids are kids. They need to work it out themselves.”
“I’m not making empty threats,” Tommy had told the man. “You’ve been warned. I suggest you get your daughter under control. If my Mimi comes home crying, you’ll be crying.”
The man had just laughed as Tommy walked away. Sure enough, Mimi came home with evidence on the inside of her upper arm where Marigold had pinched her, hard enough for us to see bruises.
“I remember that!” Mimi sat up straight in the car and looked over at me, the seatbelt tight against her chest. “I remember trying to stay away from Marigold after that, but I didn’t have to. She left me alone, and I think they moved anyway. What did Dad do?”
“You really want to know?”
She nodded.
“He went to the man’s work, asked to speak to him outside, and punched him right in the face. Just like he said he would.”
Mimi’s eyes were wide as saucers. “He did that? He did that for me?”
“Mimi, your father does not condone violence. I can tell you the truth when I say I’ve only seen him lose his temper a few times. I didn’t see him punch Marigold’s father, but I know it happened. And I also know that punch was nothing compared to what he’d be willing to do for you. He would lay down his life for you, Mimi. You are his daughter as far as he is concerned. You always have been, honey.”
I’d just pulled into the shooting range, found a spot, and shifted the car into park. I looked over at my daughter then and noticed the change in her posture. It was relaxed and welcoming. Almost as if a burden had been lifted. I smiled at her, and she smiled back.
“I guess we won’t be able to talk much while we’re shooting the guns?” she asked.
“Probably not. It’ll be loud.”
She nodded. “Mom, when we’re done, can we go somewhere else and keep talking?”
“Of course we can, Mimi,” I said, my heart feeling lighter.
“Good. Cause you said in the kitchen, I didn’t know anything. You know Leslie told me some of the stories?”
I plastered on a phony smile at the mention of the reporter’s name.
“You tell me everything Leslie told you, and I’ll do my best to fill in the missing pieces.”
“Good,” she said with a wide grin. Then her brown eyes got serious. “I want you to tell me everything you can about the evil sperm donor.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tommy
2000, Fort Lauderdale (After the Execution)
Tommy reflected on the last couple of weeks as he made his way to the little diner in the heart of an old but beautifully restored downtown Davie.
He thought about the progress he’d made in getting to know his daughter again, and how concerned he’d been as to whether or not Ginny’s outburst would cause that to crumble. It hadn’t. Mimi had told him she loved him. It was a start. A good start. He hadn’t heard her say those words in years. His heart felt lighter in spite of this last-minute lunch with Sarah Jo.
Jo. He frowned as he idled at a red light, the memory of who he was meeting aggravating him.
He leaned his elbow on the steering wheel and pinched his nose between his fingers. The beep of an impatient motorist behind him brought him back from his thoughts. Jo had been pestering him for weeks to meet for a talk. He was certain she wanted to convince him he was wrong about her, that he had no right to tell her what she should be doing with her life.
He knew how this would go down. She would start off with small talk, then work her way into how difficult it was trying to arrange such a monumental move out of the country. It would be followed with whining and trying to convince him of her love for him and Ginny.
And it would probably end in her being angry at his refusal to budge. He just hoped she wouldn’t make a scene. He sighed as he pulled into the diner parking lot and spotted her car.
Inside, Sarah Jo drummed her fingers against the table.
“Can I get you something while you wait, ma’am?” the waitress asked. “Ma’am?”
“No,” Sarah Jo snapped at the waitress. “I already told you. I’ll order when my friend gets here.”
She barely glanced at the waitress who crept away, embarrassed by Sarah Jo’s rudeness.
Jo rolled her eyes as she sat up straighter to look out the window. She nervously clutched her mother’s pendant. It was a large Marcasite pendant with a ruby in the center. Sarah Jo never took it off. When she was younger, she’d wear it tucked inside her blouse and was always comforted by the cold metallic feel of it resting between her breasts. As she got older, she got in the habit of wearing it out. It was now more suited to her age and went well with her business attire.
He’d better not stand me up again. She rubbed the precious keepsake between her fingers. She was starting to get upset thinking about what she would do if he didn’t show when she noticed his car pull in.
She sat back in the booth triumphantly. He was here and willing to talk. It was a beginning.
She watched Tommy walk to the restaurant’s front door. She could hear him as he made his way up behind her and casually plop himself in the seat in front of her.
“I don’t have a lot of time.” His voice sounded tired. “What do you want, Jo?”
“Wow, haven’t seen you in months and not even a ‘hello’ or ‘how’ve you been?’ Nothing?” Before Tommy could answer, her lips pursed in mock outrage. “What does somebody need to do to get a waitress around here? I’ve been waiting for you for over twenty minutes. You think somebody would’ve asked me if they could at least get me a drink.”
“I’m not hungry or thirsty. What did you want to see me for?”
“So that’s how it’s going to be? Just business?”
“Did you honestly think it could be more?”
Without answering, she looked up at the girl who’d returned to their table.
“Two coffees, please. And would you be a doll and bring me extra cream?” she asked, giving the girl the sweetest smile she could muster. “And no need for menus. We’re just having coffee. Thank you, love.”
Tommy didn’t notice the waitress’s confused expression as she left to get their drinks.
Sarah Jo hunched over the table between them.
“Look, I know you’ve seen the effort I’ve been making. Stan has been on three interviews since our talk. I’ve avoided Ginny at every opportunity, and that hasn’t been easy. She calls me a lot. Although I have to admit, it’s been dying off a bit. She knows I’m busy with making arrangements for the move. I just think now that you’ve seen I can be in the same city as her and not be in your lives, you need to reconsider your threat.” She emphasized the word with air quotes.
“Why would I do that? Why would you even think I’d change my mind?”
The waitress set down their coffees. Tommy politely thanked her and stared at Jo.
“Why? I’ll tell you why, Tommy. Because it’s not easy packing up my life and moving to the other side of the world. Show some compassion, how ’bout it?”
She loaded her coffee with cream and sugar as she glared at him.
“Compassion? Like you showed when you set up Ginny’s rape all those years ago?” Sarah Jo cringed, but he pressed on. “Compassion, like when Chicky tried to get close to Fess? How about the compassion you showed Moe? That kind of compassion, Jo? Is that what you mean?”
His voice was tight with anger.
“Why are you still harping on something that happened over twenty years ago? Why can’t you let this obsession with getting me out of town go? Why can’t you get past this?”
He sat back. Cocking his head to one
side, he seriously considered his answer.
“It’s the only way I can get justice for Gin without her knowing it. But I’ll know it. I’ll know that you’ll be miserable living outside your little safety zone. The perfect little cocoon of a life that you’ve built by crushing others.”
She started to say something, but he held up a hand.
“Yeah, Jo, I know now. I can look back at our friendship over these years, and I can see how you’ve twisted certain stories, always making yourself the victim. I know how you throw your husband’s status around to get what you want at work. How you walk on people to make yourself look better. How you let others take the fall when you’ve fucked up. Ginny and I have heard these stories and even sympathized with you about some things.” He narrowed his eyes. “But we were wrong, weren’t we? You’ve always been conniving, but we never let ourselves see it because you were our friend. Of course, we were always going to side with you. I’m going to guess Stan knows, too, but he’s too whipped by you to ever call you out on anything.”
Just like that day at her house, when he’d confronted her about what he’d read in Moe’s journal, he knew he’d riled her. He’d hit a sore spot, and it was showing on her face. He watched as she sat back and reached for her mother’s pendant, fingering it frantically.
“So you think you have me all figured out?” Her eyes flashed. “Well, good for you, Tommy. But there’s something you need to know. I am not moving my family out of the country, out of this state or even out of this city. You will not tell Ginny about my part in her rape. Do you understand? Do you realize what I’m telling you?”
He laughed at her. “You have no choice, Jo. Not only will I tell Gin what you did, but I’ll tell someone else, too. I bet that journalist who was so sure she could get the scoop on Grizz’s execution would love to hear this story. I can imagine the headline in her little magazine.” He raised his hand for emphasis as if highlighting each word. “Prominent and Respected Surgeon’s Wife Played Major Role in Rape and Attempted Murder of Her Best Friend.”
He gave her a smirk before taking another sip of coffee. Of course, the threat to talk to Leslie was empty. He was just playing with Jo’s emotions. He would never do anything to purposely bring attention back into their lives. But Sarah Jo didn’t know that.
Sarah Jo rolled her eyes. “You’re an asshole.” She smiled smugly. “Well, if we’re telling stories, then I’ll tell her one, too.” She paused dramatically, careful not to break his stare, and idly tapped her thumb on the rim of her coffee cup.
“What story would that be, Jo?”
“Oh, you know the story,” she cooed. “The one when Ginny was pregnant way back in, what was it, 1980? When she was living at that dump with Grizz?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, you remember, don’t you?” she asked mockingly. “She was having that awful morning sickness, and you were so worried about her. You were stupid back then, too, Tommy. Only you would pine over a woman who was pregnant with another man’s child.”
She could tell by his expression she’d hit a nerve. Time to go in for the kill. She should have told him this when he’d first threatened her. It would’ve saved her a lot of frustration.
“I gave you those herbal powders to give her so they would make the morning sickness go away. Remember how I told you I didn’t want credit for it? How I wanted her to think the powders were from you because you were such a good friend to her?”
“Yeah, what about them? They didn’t even work. Didn’t matter anyway. She lost that baby shortly afterward.”
He paused and inhaled sharply as the realization of what he was saying caught him by surprise.
“Jo, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”
“Of course, I did, you idiot. I didn’t want her having that baby. She told me Grizz was going to retire from the gang when the baby came. I couldn’t let him have a happily ever after!”
Tommy felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut. He remembered everything so clearly—Sarah Jo calling him from her college in northern Florida. Talking about her environmentally conscious, vegetarian, herb-making roommate. How that roommate had concocted the perfect mixture to ease Ginny’s morning sickness. Tommy had specifically asked for the ingredients and looked them up in his encyclopedias, even consulted one of his teachers at school. Jo was right. A combination of these herbs was supposed to help with morning sickness and posed no threat to the mother or baby. He’d told her to mail him the roommate’s remedy and, most importantly, he remembered Sarah Jo’s insistence that he say it was his idea.
“You love her, Grunt. Let her think this is from you. When she’s feeling better, it’s you she’ll thank.” Sarah Jo had laughed, then added, “I swear, if you tell her those little packets are from me, I’ll deny it. I want you to get the credit.”
As the reality of what he’d done sank in, he felt an enormous blackness enveloping him. He’d given Ginny herbs that were supposed to help with morning sickness, but in truth, had caused her miscarriage. Dear God, what had he done?
Jo was right. Ginny would remember Tommy giving her the herbs to put in her tea. He’d never mentioned they came from Sarah Jo. Well, he’d mentioned it to one person, but that person was dead.
“What have you done, Jo?” He rested his elbows on the table, lowered his face to his hands. The sound of his heartbeat pulsed in his ears, muffling the sounds in the diner. He had an instant and intense headache. He rubbed his temples hard.
He also had an immediate and heightened sense of smell. The combination of baking bread, some kind of meat roasting, and the bleach-soaked dishrag that must’ve been used to wipe their table caused his stomach to churn.
With his elbows still resting on the table and his fingers digging into his temples, he raised his eyes to Sarah Jo and asked in a whisper, “What did you do?”
She gave him a victorious grin and grabbed her purse as she quickly stood up. She looked down at him with mock pity.
“I didn’t do anything, Tommy. You did.”
She spun around on her heel and triumphantly headed for the door, telling their waitress on the way out, “This place sucks, and so do you.”
Chapter Twenty
Grizz
1990, Prison, North Florida
Grizz stood over the sink in his cell and watched the blood trickle down the drain. The metallic smell was even more obvious as he realized some of Robert Ringer’s blood had also settled itself in his beard.
A quick glance in the mirror—an item that definitely shouldn’t have been in a death row inmate’s cell—told him he was right. He grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed away the last evidence of what he’d done. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be interrogated. The guard who’d looked the other way after unlocking Ringer’s cell would be taking his family on a very nice vacation with the money that would show up in his bank account. Money that, if questioned, would look like a reimbursement from his mortgage company for a major miscalculation in his escrow fund. That is, if anybody even bothered to look. That same guard would make sure Grizz’s bloody clothes would be tossed in the prison’s furnace.
After hearing Kit gave birth to a son, Grunt’s son, Grizz needed to find an outlet for his fury. He decided on the prison’s most famous and despised serial killer, Bobby Ringer. Unfortunately, to Grizz’s disappointment, Ringer didn’t put up a fight. He went down too quickly, not giving Grizz the time he needed to burn off his anger. Grizz looked down at his blood-free hands and realized he hadn’t even bruised his knuckles. Fucking milquetoast.
He lay down on his bed and laced his fingers behind his head. He glanced at the ceiling and thought about her. Kit. He thought about being in the delivery room for the birth of their daughter. Even though it was a beautiful memory, a good memory, it made his chest feel heavy, and his soul feel empty.
Another memory found its way into his thoughts. This one not so good.
He stiffened when he remembered the look in Kit’s eyes when he
’d refused to see Mimi when Kit had brought their newborn to the jail. He’d had no choice. They watched him closely back then. He wanted Kit and Mimi as far away from him as possible. He’d caved a few times, letting Kit see him first in jail and then prison. But after Grunt’s visit, telling him how much she was suffering and him knowing he was being selfish and putting her in potential danger, he’d finally told her to stay away. To have her life with Grunt. That it was okay if she loved Grunt.
His jaw clenched at the pain that memory invoked.
He’d had a face to face with Grunt when her pregnancy had gotten back to him. The pregnancy was painful to hear about, but he was able to tuck it away. But then, hearing she’d actually given birth to Grunt’s child sent him over the edge and faded any hope, even false hope, that they’d be together again.
And how could he even let himself hope when, as far as she was concerned, he was being put to death? Hell. Maybe he was going to be put to death. Maybe they didn’t care if what he had on them went public. They’d been fucking with him for five years now.
The worst part was they knew she’d moved on with her life. They knew it was probably torturing him, and they were reveling in it. They were enjoying his pain.
Or maybe they weren’t. Maybe they didn’t give a shit. Maybe what he’d found all those years ago was no longer important. He wouldn’t know because they ignored every attempt he’d made to set up a meeting. Motherfuckers.
He swiped his hand over his face and tugged on his beard. He would now need to get a message to Carter to make sure the guard was compensated appropriately. He smiled as he thought about how well the communication system he’d set up with Carter through her inmate/canine rehabilitation program was working. He remembered summoning Carter almost five years ago to the county jail while he was awaiting trial.
“You said to let you know if you could ever do anything for me,” he’d said to her. They were sitting in the same room Kit had been shown into weeks earlier, when he’d suggested a middle name if their baby was a girl. Ruth, his little sister’s name.
