Sophie’s Last Stand

by Nancy Bartholomew

  “I can’t go home to Ma and Pa’s if that’s what you’re thinking, Joey,” I said. “He’ll follow me there. He could hurt them, trying to get to me.” I swallowed hard. “I can’t go anywhere because he doesn’t care who he hurts trying to get to me. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe Nick turned so bad. I gotta stop him, Joey.”

  Joey shook his head again, nodded toward the bottle and handed me his empty glass. I set mine down next to his and poured.

  “You didn’t want to see what Nick was before,” he said. “To be honest, none of us saw this coming. The pervert part, I could see that, but this—”

  He broke off as Della wandered into the kitchen wearing my clothes. I turned around and handed her a shot glass. It was gone before I could reach the water bottle, and her arm was outstretched, indicating she wanted more.

  “You sure?” I asked. “I mean, you don’t look so good. You look pale.”

  Della’s eyes, flinty hard, met mine. “I can handle it fine,” she said.

  Joey didn’t say anything. He took his glass, raised it slightly in my direction and swallowed the amber liquid without so much as a trace of expression on his face. I knew he was looking at Della and thinking junkie. Joey wasn’t one to go back on a first impression.

  Della drained her glass and set it down on the counter. “I’m going home,” she announced.

  “Where’s Durrell?” I asked her.

  The girl shrugged. “I haven’t seen him all afternoon. Maybe he ran off.” She didn’t seem too concerned about her dog, but I attributed it to the shock of the afternoon’s events. “If he shows up, can you keep him for me until morning?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll stay here tonight,” I answered. “But if he shows up, I’ll feed him and let him in.” Something about Della bothered me, teasing my unconscious and trying to break through into a recognizable thought. What was it?

  She was moving toward the back porch when a uniformed officer stepped through the screen door and stopped her.

  “Ma’am,” he said, “Detective Evans would like you to come downtown and look at some pictures. He said we’ll get you back to your vehicle or take you home later, whichever is more convenient.”

  Della was obviously unhappy at this turn of events. “I just want to go home,” she said.

  The officer nodded. “I know, ma’am,” he said. “But if we can get your input while your memory’s fresh, it would sure help. My car is right outside.”

  Della didn’t really have an option. She was going to go with the police officer one way or the other, and as I watched her accept this fact, I also noted a flicker of fear cross her face and just as quickly vanish.

  The screen door slapped shut behind Della as she followed the police officer to his car. Joey looked over at me, about to say something, but I raised my hand. “Don’t say it,” I said. “Just don’t say it. You’re probably right, but I have bigger fish to fry right now.”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to say anything about her. I was going to say that I’m going to help you find him, Soph. You may be all tough with your martial arts crap, but he’s got guns and he’s not working alone. For what it’s worth, I’m helping you.”

  I looked at my college professor, poet brother and saw the determination in his eyes. It meant everything to me.

  “Thanks.”

  Joey nodded. “Where do we start?”

  I shrugged. “I need to give it some thought,” I said. “I’m going to sit here at the kitchen table and come up with something. All I know for certain is what I’m not going to do.”

  Joey’s eyebrow lifted. “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “I’m not going to run.”

  Joey nodded, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell what he thought, but knowing him like I did, I figured he was trying to formulate his own plan.

  “It’s like this,” I said. “It doesn’t make sense that all of these things are happening because Nick wants revenge. He’s not like that. I mean, he’d talk about it, maybe even map it out in his head, but Nick was never much for direct conflict. He’s sneakier than that. He’s also too cheap to pay to have me taken care of. There’s got to be more to it than this.”

  “Like what?” Joey asked.

  “Like maybe that stupid FBI agent was right, maybe Nick left something or hid something before he went to prison and maybe he’s come back looking for it. Maybe he thinks if he scares me badly enough, I’ll hand it over when he comes looking. Or maybe Nick’s trying to scare me away from here so he can search the house.”

  Emily wandered into the kitchen, her eyes red and swollen. Mort hovered behind her, obviously trying to take care of her, and almost overwhelmed himself.

  “When who comes looking, Aunt Sophie?” she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.

  “Joey,” Mort said, interrupting. “You should take your little girl home. This is no place for her.”

  My brother went to his daughter, slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Baby,” he said, his voice a husky whisper, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Let’s get you home.”

  Emily lifted her head from his shoulder and attempted to smile. “Oh, Daddy,” she said. “You were just trying to take care of Aunt Sophie. I’m not neglected. I’m not a baby! I’m almost thirteen.”

  Joey looked like Pa. His face darkened, his chest seemed to expand, and he became the man and not the son or the brother. He was in charge and he was going to protect his family.

  “This is not the place for you or your aunt, but I can’t make Aunt Sophie listen to me. I’m not her father. But you,” he said, “are my little girl and you are going home, right now.”

  Emily had no intention of fighting her father. I saw her arms tighten around his waist and heard the small sigh of relief. Mort nodded his approval.

  “I’m going to the hospital,” he said. He looked over to me. “Your pa and I will get things situated there and then we’ll come back.”

  “Mort,” I said, “I think it would be best if you didn’t. I might not even be here and if I am, I’ll be fine.”

  Mort frowned. “What do you mean, you’ll be fine? You don’t have protection. The cops said all they were going to do is beef up their patrols.”

  The lie came easily. “Gray and Joey are taking turns staying here,” I said. “It’s Gray’s night.”

  Joey glanced over the top of Emily’s head. “Gray feel up to that?” he asked. “’Cause I can stay.”

  “It’s all taken care of,” I said, and prayed he wouldn’t check.

  Emily tugged at him. “Detective Evans won’t let anything bad happen,” she said. “Let’s go, okay?” She looked at me, her expression apologetic. “I mean, if you’re sure, Aunt Sophie?”

  I smiled. “Go on, all of you. I’m fine.” I pushed them out of the kitchen and followed to watch them leave. Gray was deep in conversation with a crime scene technician. I saw Joey hesitate, note that Gray was busy, and continue on. Mort never stopped in his hurry to reach his buddies at the hospital.

  I headed back inside and busied myself washing the shot glasses and thinking. What kind of information would Nick have about a murder? Pictures? Something written down? Who were the men in the black sedan and how did they fit in with Nick? Why were they looking for him? If they worked for Nick, wouldn’t they know where he was?

  I glanced out the kitchen window and saw Gray moving toward the back porch. His head was bent and he appeared to be deep in thought. I stood there watching him, taking in the way the white cuffs of his dress shirt stood out against the deep tan of his skin, and the way he walked with a sure purpose, moving like an athlete.

  A few minutes later he was standing next to me, his strong hands wrapped around a coffee mug. I felt the warmth of him, inhaled the scent of his cologne and tried out the idea of him as a constant in my life. He fit with me, I realized, and this thought comforted me in a way that nothing else had. Maybe Darlene’s dreams of destiny and permanence wer
en’t such bad thoughts, after all. Or maybe the presence of death and evil made me long for a connection to something good, like a loving partnership shared with the right person.

  “You left before I could check on you this morning,” I said. “How do you feel?”

  Gray smiled. “Got a hell of a headache, but I’ll be all right. I’m sorry about running off. Agent Cole needed to see me and said it couldn’t wait. I didn’t want to barge in on you in the shower or I would’ve said goodbye in person.”

  I found myself wishing he had barged in, but didn’t say it.

  “Is there any news about Nick?”

  Gray shook his head. “Not yet.” He put his coffee cup down on the counter and smiled apologetically. “I have to get back to the office, but someone will be here, in front of the house, until I get back.”

  I nodded and tried to smile, but my head was in a thousand places and words wouldn’t come.

  “I want you to lock all the doors. Pull the blinds and stay away from the windows. I don’t think he’ll risk showing up again, especially with marked units riding by every few minutes, but I also don’t believe he’s thinking too clearly—not when he risked shooting in broad daylight.”

  “Right,” I mumbled. Maybe the two shots of Wild Turkey were having their effect. “I’ll stay inside. There’s a lot I can do around here.”

  Gray lifted my chin with one finger and stared into my eyes. “Why don’t you take it easy instead?”

  I nodded. “The way things are, I don’t figure I’ll be alone for too long. Darlene’s bound to pop by, and Pa will be back from the hospital soon.”

  “Sophie, you don’t need to try and act tough with me,” Gray said softly. “I already know how brave you are.”

  I looked up at him. “You think I’m brave, huh?”

  He chuckled softly. “Sure you are. But you can be plenty brave and still feel scared.” The initial desire I had felt for him deepened into an almost unbearable ache. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, and was gone before I could answer him.

  I went through the house, locking doors and pulling curtains, thinking about Nick and wondering where I would’ve hidden something I didn’t want anyone to find.

  Darlene found me two hours later, hot and sweaty from a household search and a wrestling match with the contents of my dining-room pseudobedroom. She stood on the front porch, dressed in another long flowing skirt, her hair pulled back into a French braid and her cheeks flushed with the late afternoon heat.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, brushing past me and making a beeline for the kitchen. “You look awful.”

  “You’re just in time,” I told her. “You can help me move the bed I’m making upstairs.”

  Darlene poked her head back out of my refrigerator and smiled. “Aha!” she cried. “It’s come to that, has it?”

  I felt my face turn scarlet. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  Darlene bumped the refrigerator door shut with her hip. In one hand was a bottle of water, in the other a package of sliced cheese and a plastic bag of sliced ham.

  “I am talking about the fact that your ex-husband is hunting you like a wild dog and instead of being the overly responsible, perhaps even obsessive-compulsive person I know you to be, instead of freaking out and becoming paralyzed with fear, you are moving your boudoir upstairs and making plans to seduce Gray Evans.” She held up an arresting hand and added, “Don’t even try to deny it. I know the look when I see it.”

  “Darlene, for your information, I was looking for something. When I couldn’t find it, I decided to build my new bed upstairs. For safety purposes, of course. It’s harder to shoot me from the street if I’m on the second floor.”

  Darlene calmly rolled ham up in a cheese slice and regarded me with a knowing look. “Honey, you need to loosen up. Gray wants you and you want him just as bad. What’s wrong with admitting it?”

  She leaned against the newly installed refrigerator and smiled. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, and couldn’t make the words come. I wasn’t about to tell her I was hunting for Nick’s evidence. “Timing,” I said finally. “The timing is wrong.”

  Darlene rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything? Haven’t you read about the baby booms that happened in the sixties nine months after the Bay of Pigs Invasion? Everybody thought they were going to die, so what did they do?” Darlene nodded smugly. “That’s right, they screwed their collective brains out! Making love is a life-affirming activity. It flies in the face of death and danger. It’s man’s way of insuring that the human race will continue.”

  “Darlene, I am not trying to get pregnant! I am just trying to move my bed to a safer location. I’m not saying I don’t want to consider a relationship with Gray. I’m just saying that I have to take care of this business with Nick first.”

  Darlene put down her water bottle and shook her head.

  “Sophie, you can’t hunt Nick twenty-four hours a day without ceasing. I think what you really want is a guarantee that Gray is the right man and he won’t hurt you. Sophie, they don’t hand out guarantees like that. You go after Gray and I can promise you right now, you’ll get hurt.” Darlene’s eyes softened. “Love always hurts. But love also heals and nurtures. Love takes the best and worst of everything and whops you upside the head. It fills you and completes you, all right, but it also drains you dry.”

  “Then why do it?” I heard myself ask, drawn in despite myself. “Why set yourself up to feel all that?”

  Darlene smiled her serene Mistress of the Universe smile. “Because we can’t help ourselves.” She motioned toward the boxes in the living room. “Now let’s get to it.”

  The twinge of anticipation that hit my stomach only confirmed what Darlene was saying. I did want Gray Evans. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, but more than that, I wanted to feel him in my heart and in my life.

  “Damn!” I said.

  Darlene smiled and pushed away from the counter, brushing her hands off on her skirt as she moved past me. “Come on. Let’s get that bedroom in order,” she said. “This could take a while.”

  Chapter 11

  Nick had been everywhere. The irony of it was that if I hadn’t given in to my active fantasy life and Darlene’s insistence, I might never have known. She was the one who dragged me down into the basement looking for gauze curtains that had been packed along with the rest of my nonessential belongings, and stored out of the way of the renovations.

  The two of us stood on the steps overlooking the dim, musty cavern and stared at the chaos sprawled below us. My carefully packed and labeled boxes had been ripped open and the contents strewn across the hard-packed dirt floor. The furniture carefully placed alongside one bone-dry wall of the cellar, waiting in alleged safety for the day when the floors would be refinished and the rooms ready for their contents, now lay in a haphazard pile. Drawers had been pulled from empty chests. Doors had been jerked open to cabinets. My life had been pawed through and trashed.

  Darlene and I reached for each other, the way we did as kids watching scary movies on TV. A million thoughts ran through my head. I’d just been down here! Everything had been in order then. How had he gotten into the basement and gone through my things without us hearing him? Why had he done this? What did he want? And worse, was he still here?

  “Nick, you lowlife son of a bitch, I know you’re in here. Now come out where I can see you!” I started forward, peering behind the furniture and trying to see into every dark corner.

  “Nick?” Darlene asked. “You think he’s in here?” She sniffed the air, as if she could actually smell the creep. “Could he have done this while we were upstairs?”

  “I was down here two hours ago. It wasn’t like this. If it’s not Nick then it’s someone who wants what he left behind.” Frustration swept over me, overwhelming me with an anger that burned deep in the pit of my stomach.

  “Darlene, that stupid FBI agent must be right. Nick hid evidence in a m
urder investigation somewhere in our house before he went to prison. Hell, maybe Nick even committed the damn murder! Maybe all the accidents and warnings were his attempt to scare me away from here so he can get into the house and find it. Maybe that’s why those men are looking for him—maybe they want what he hid.”

  I finished my search of the basement and returned to Darlene’s side. “Well, nobody’s here now.”

  She surveyed the scene around us and nodded slowly. “Do you think he found what he was looking for?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  As I moved closer to the wall, I felt fresh air hit my ankles. I stepped closer, looking for the source of the breeze, and found it almost immediately. The door leading to the backyard was securely locked, but a small window had been jimmied open, leaving its broken frame to swing softly in the cross draft.

  “He got in through there,” I said, pointing the window out to Darlene.

  “It doesn’t seem big enough,” she said, squinting in the dim light.

  “Yeah, but Nick’s not a big guy,” I said. “Maybe he lost weight in prison. Even if he didn’t, there’s plenty of room for him to get through.”

  I stepped onto the soft dirt floor that rimmed the back half of the cellar and picked my way through clothing and kitchen utensils to reach the window.

  “See?” I called to Darlene. “The dirt’s kicked up a little right underneath it, and the wood is splintered where he broke the latch. I wish I knew what he was looking for.”

  Darlene nudged an overturned box with her big toe and quickly drew her foot back.

  “What if it’s, like, a trophy?” she said.

  “A trophy?”

  “Yeah, you know, like a serial killer’s trophy. They take souvenirs from their victims, you know, like ears or fingers.”

  “Oh, please! Nick wouldn’t touch—” I broke off, realizing that the Nick Komassi I knew was obviously capable of doing lots of things I hadn’t anticipated. In fact, I didn’t know Nick very well at all.