Nina spoke in a calm voice, a voice trained by years in the theater. “Gemma, haven’t I been your friend all these years?”
Gemma shook her head. “I have no friends. Every friend I ever thought I had, every person that I ever tried to care about …”
Tears rose to Nina’s eyes. “I treated you like a sister. Even when other people were cruel, wasn’t I your friend? Gemma, I have to know what happened …”
Gemma stared at Nina with her expressionless eyes, the gun wavering in her hand. “Fine. You want to know? Fine. You should know the truth about your mother. She was not the sweet, loving Marsha everybody remembers. She showed me her true self. I’ll tell you. Although I’m sure you’ll still take her side. Your mother called me,” said Gemma matter-of-factly, “and asked me to come over. Said she wanted to talk to me about Patrick. But that was a lie. When I got there, she started asking me questions. She started out all kind and solicitous. And then she pounced. She said she saw me in the Preserve the day before, burying something in a plastic garbage bag. And then she heard that a dog had found the bag, and when the police opened it, there was a baby in it.”
“A baby?” said Nina. “The baby in the Preserve? But where did you get a baby? You weren’t … I don’t … How did you … ?”
Gemma droned on, drowning her out. “It was a terrible experience. I was in school when the water broke. I felt it coming. So I went home. Nobody was there,” Gemma said.
“You were pregnant?” said Nina, still trying to absorb this information.
“Nobody knew I was pregnant,” said Gemma. “I only ate a little bit. I didn’t gain much weight.”
Nina remembered now. The baggy overalls and flannel shirts Gemma used to wear like a uniform, concealing the unwanted pregnancy. And no one noticed. Not her father or her stepmother. Or any of the Averys. “Did you tell the baby’s father?” asked Nina.
“Patrick?” Gemma asked. “No. He never knew. He’d never even take my shirt off when he screwed me.”
“Patrick?” Nina gasped. “Patrick was the father?”
“Yes, Patrick,” said Gemma bitterly. “Is it so unbelievable?”
“But he and Lindsay … I mean, you were his tutor.”
“I was crazy about Patrick. I did anything he wanted,” said Gemma bluntly.
“And he wanted …”
“Sex,” said Gemma. “Lindsay was holding out on him. She didn’t love him the way I did. I never denied him.”
“Why didn’t you tell him about the baby?” Nina cried.
Gemma flinched ever so slightly. “He didn’t want to know,” she said.
Nina recognized the truth in her words and for one brief moment, she pitied Gemma, who had hoped for love and found herself used instead. Gemma’s loyalty to Patrick was a kind of madness in itself.
Gemma shook her head. “Your mother reacted exactly the same way. As if I were the only one to blame. Not her precious Patrick. I thought if I told her the truth she would understand. Take my side. But all she could think about was the baby …”
Nina winced, and tried not to think about the helpless newborn, buried in a trash bag by his mother.
“She kept saying it couldn’t be true and asking me why I did it,” Gemma said. “And then, do you know what she said? ‘That was my grandchild,’ she said. ‘You killed my grandchild.’ As if the baby was all that mattered. As if the baby was everything and I was dirt. That’s when I got pissed off.”
Nina could not meet Gemma’s indignant gaze.
“She kept talking about the innocent little baby and its precious little life. That’s when I picked up the knife and killed her.”
Nina was trembling all over. She didn’t say a word.
“Now,” said Gemma. “I’ve told you. Let’s get going.”
“Miss Avery!” There was a thunderous knock on the front door.
Gemma looked up, startled, and then jabbed the gun into Nina’s belly.
Nina stared at her. “They know I’m in here. They’re going to want to come in.”
“Shit,” said Gemma. She looked around the kitchen frantically. Then she spotted the chair wedged against the cellar door. “Move that thing,” she commanded. “Quietly.”
“It’s no use, Gemma,” said Nina, but she did as she was told. She freed the chair from under the doorknob and replaced it by the table.
“Open the door,” Gemma commanded.
Nina pulled the cellar door open and went to turn on the light in the stairwell. Gemma jabbed her again. “Don’t touch it. Move,” she said.
Nina grabbed for the wall and began to descend the stairs slowly. Gemma pulled the door shut behind them.
“Miss Avery,” the voices shouted. “We’re coming in.”
Nina began to shake her head. “It’s no use doing this,” she said.
Gemma grabbed Nina’s long black hair and yanked it back. Nina stumbled on the dark staircase and managed to regain her balance. “You keep your mouth shut,” Gemma growled, “or I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”
At the foot of the stairs, Gemma shoved Nina over to the wall beside the staircase, up against the cardboard boxes and paper shopping bags damp with mildew. Overhead, they heard the banging on the front door, and then the sound of the door bursting open. “Put your hands up,” Gemma commanded. Nina raised her hands. Gemma stayed behind Nina, holding on to her hair and keeping the barrel of the gun pressed into her side.
Nina heard the police thundering through the house. One of them yelled to another. “In here. The old lady …”
“Is she dead?” she heard a voice demand.
There was a silence. Nina closed her eyes and prayed into the silence.
“She’s breathing. Get an ambulance,” said the voice.
“There’s nobody upstairs,” called another voice.
“The back door’s open. Maybe they went out the back.”
Nina stood with her face pressed against the wall of bags and boxes, her arms heavy from keeping her hands raised, hovering by her ears. The gun barrel pressed into her back. Gingerly, hoping for relief, she rested her palms lightly against the pile of boxes against the wall. Her right palm grazed scratchy canvas. It took her a moment to realize what it was and then, when she did, her heart leaped. People were shouting now and there were heavy footsteps from every direction in the house.
All of a sudden the door at the top of the steps burst open, and the voices were twice as loud. “Miss Avery. Nina,” they called.
“Turn on the light,” said one voice.
Light flooded the stairwell and two officers began to descend, guns drawn, flashlights scanning the basement. “There,” one of them cried.
Gemma had dragged Nina by the hair away from the boxes, the gun barrel still pressed in her back, hiding behind her, using Nina as a human shield.
“Don’t come any closer,” Gemma yelled. “I have a gun. Now get back up those stairs and get out of my way or I’ll kill her.”
The cops exchanged a glance. “Let her go,” said one. “You can’t get away.”
“Oh yes I can,” said Gemma.
Nina, who had slipped her raised hand into that scratchy canvas bag in the dark while Gemma was occupied with the police, drew in a breath and said a silent prayer. She jerked herself away from Gemma, feeling a clump of hair tear away from her scalp. She turned, wielding her father’s automatic pistol, the gun she had put in the basement, not knowing how to dispose of it. At her worst moment, she had suddenly realized that the canvas bag that held the gun was under her hand. Now she pointed it at Gemma. “No, you can’t,” she said.
For one moment, Gemma gaped at the gun in Nina’s hand. Then she let out a cry of rage and lunged for it. Nina fired.
33
NINA , who was sitting in a chair beside Andre’s bed holding his chilly fingers in her own warm hand, looked up as a nurse came into the room. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “I know. Visiting hours are over.” Aside from a visit with her aunt and with Jimmy, who had
awakened at last, she had spent most of the day by Andre’s side. It was the best way she could think of to recover from her ordeal.
“Way over,” the nurse said with a smile. “But your brother is outside and he wanted to know if he can come in.”
“Patrick?” Nina said. She looked at Andre. “Is it all right?”
Andre nodded.
The nurse went out into the hall and in a moment the door opened again and Patrick came in. He was unshaven. His clothes were rumpled, and there were bags under his eyes. He approached the bed and looked at Andre sheepishly. “How ya doin’?” he asked. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m all right,” said Andre. “How about you?”
Patrick stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “My brother’s recovering. That’s one good thing. But my house is overrun with cops. My kids are freaking out. Lindsay took them to her parents’ house just to get them out of there.”
“It has to be tough,” said Andre sympathetically.
Nina looked at her brother worriedly. “How are you holding up?” she asked.
“I’m coping. As long as I don’t try to sleep,” he said.
“Oh, Patrick, it must be so difficult to keep going.”
Patrick shook his head. “I just keep thinking, how could I have lived with her and not suspected … ?”
Nina thought of all the things that Patrick had not suspected. Gemma’s pregnancy all those years ago. The birth and death of his baby, which had begun a chain of disaster. Was it his own, willful ignorance that had brought his life crashing down around his head? Part of her blamed him, but still, he was her brother, he was suffering, and he did not need to be reminded of his own culpability. “No one suspected,” said Nina. “You said it yourself. She was an expert liar.”
Patrick sighed. “I spoke to Gemma’s attorney. He’s advised her that her best bet is to plead guilty and avoid the death penalty. She’s considering it. I told him to beg her to do it for the boys’ sake. I remember what it was like going through that trial.”
Nina looked away from him. “Yes. That would be best.”
“Too bad you weren’t a better shot,” said Patrick bitterly.
“Patrick,” Nina cried.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m trying not to hate her. So far, it’s a struggle.”
Nina got up and walked over to her brother. She held him in a brief embrace. “We’ll get through this, too, Patrick,” she whispered. “I’ll help you. I promise.”
Patrick sighed. “You get back to your friend,” he said. He raised a hand in farewell just as the nurse bustled in. The nurse looked at Nina sternly. “Time to go. This guy needs to get some rest.” She picked up Andre’s chart, wrote something on it, and then headed for the door. “Five minutes. I’m gonna be counting.” Patrick held the door open for her.
“Patrick,” Nina called after her departing brother. “Wait out in the hall for me. I’ll go home with you. Just give me a minute.”
“Sure,” said Patrick, and though he didn’t smile, he looked relieved.
Nina sat back down and gazed at Andre. “I hate to leave you,” she said. As she said it, she realized how profoundly she meant it. She had no desire to play it cool. “I wish I never had to leave you,” she said.
“Will you come back?” he asked.
“Of course. I’m sure your family will be here tomorrow.”
“My parents are on their way. You’ll get to meet them.”
“And your fiancée?”
Andre shook his head on the pillow. “No. Not Susan. That’s over. I told her when I was out there.”
Nina frowned. “But I thought. You said that she …”
“I was trying to be chivalrous, okay?”
Nina blushed, knowing her relief must be showing on her face.
“It had been coming for a long time,” said Andre. “She never liked the fact that I wanted to work at the prison. We have different ideas about … a lot of things. The situation has been rocky between us for a long time. We probably should have broken up ages ago. It wasn’t just about you.”
Nina cocked her head and squinted at him. “Are you saying it was partly about me, Dr. Quinteros?”
Andre smiled. “Yeah.”
“But she still has the ring …” Nina protested.
“Well, it’s impolite to ask for it back,” he said wryly. “We’ll get another one.”
Seeing his smile, realizing what he meant, she was filled with happiness for the first time in what seemed like ages. The recent horror seemed to vanish in its glow. All those she loved were still laboring under a load of grief, a dark cloud. Aunt Mary would need weeks, maybe months, to recover from her skull fracture. Jimmy would be facing another battle with his addictive demons. And Patrick—his agony would go on for a long, long time. She almost felt guilty to be so blessed. But blessed is what she felt.
“How can you say that?” Nina exclaimed. “How can you be so … sure? It’s not like we were … dating. We never even—you know. Not even a kiss.”
Andre looked down at their intertwined fingers. “No. But it’s destiny. Your father used to tell me about you. ‘Andre,’ he’d say. ‘She’s the one for you.’”
“He did?” she said, smiling shyly.
Andre nodded. “When you came to visit, he always wanted me to meet you. It never happened. But he dreamed it. All he wanted was for you to be happy.”
“I know he did,” she said. And can I be happy now, Dad? she wondered. In spite of everything? She knew what his answer would have been. The same answer he always gave her when she doubted herself. You can do it, Nina. She remembered her father’s eyes, the approval and the love she always saw there when he gazed at her. And though she would never see those eyes again, she realized, looking at Andre, that she would not have to live her life without the solace of a loving gaze. Her father had seen to it before he left her.
The Girl Next Door Page 26
