Even better, they still haven’t found any real evidence connecting me to the other shit that happened at Gilgo Beach either.
Anyway, I feel great. My headaches are gone, and I’ve got my whole life ahead of me. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I’m thinking that maybe I’ll become a writer and tell my story.
* * *
Days before Sullivan was to be released, Jamie Houston tracked down Detective Stone. She came with only one thought in mind—revenge. Houston had been plotting for months. Time and again, she rehearsed the scene in her head, and now she was ready.
She explained to Stone that she needed closure, and she wanted an opportunity to confront Sullivan before he was set free.
Stone arranged the trip to coincide with Sullivan’s release, and they drove to Haverstraw in the midst of a winter snowstorm.
Exiting the car, Houston checked her pocket one last time to confirm that the switchblade was still there. She gripped the handle, and it felt good. It was at the ready, and when Sullivan appeared in front of her, she intended to slice his pretty face to ribbons.
Her mind was clear. She wasn’t crazy. She knew exactly what needed to be done. From her perspective, it was a rational thought, and she felt completely justified.
Dr. Freud met them at reception and escorted them to the visitor’s lounge.
“Ms. Houston,” Freud began, “I’ve made wonderful progress with Thomas, and while I think this is a good test for him before he is released, I am asking you to please refrain from provoking him. Can you do that for me?”
“Absolutely, Doctor. I simply want to look him in the eyes. I need closure. My psychiatrist said that the best way to overcome my fear is to confront it. I am through feeling like a victim.”
“Wise advice, Ms. Houston. Just try to understand that the man you will see today has changed. Mentally, he is not the same person who attacked you. Also, keep in mind that I haven’t told him you are here, so this will come as a big shock. He won’t be ready.”
“He may not be, but I am.”
Within minutes, the door to the visitor’s lounge opened, and an orderly ushered Sullivan in. He immediately recognized both Stone and Houston. Surprised and confused, he locked eyes with the young bartender. Her gaze was cold steel.
Houston slowly pulled the blade from her pocket while searching deep into his eyes. She stepped forward, still glaring. Seconds passed like minutes before she turned to Stone and asked, “Who the hell is that?”
Everywhere That Tommy Goes Page 29
