by M. D. Thomas
Eleven.
Jon stood dripping before the door, torn between the desire to run and the alluring fantasy of knocking on the door and confronting her, telling her he knew what she and her friend had done, demanding that she tell him where the man was and that they turn themselves in.
He realized with a start that his fingers were just inches from the knob. He snatched them back as if from a burning stove.
Even if I did it, even if I could, Lee would still be in a coma…
Jon took a step back.
Building One, apartment eleven.
Calm…
He needed to think. That was what he needed to do more than anything. Think long and hard about what was right for Lee. Lee was what mattered. Not him or Sarah. Lee.
Jon turned away from the door and walked back to the stairs, descended to the ground floor and without hesitation walked through the pouring rain to the Volvo. He got in, unconcerned about the water that puddled on the floor and seat. He backed out of the spot, turning over the information in his head again and again as he drove home.
Nineteen
SARAH
“They won again last night, Lee. That’s seven in a row since the Red Sox.”
The words brushed against the edge of Sarah’s nightmare and somehow pulled her out of it. She opened her eyes and saw Jon sitting on the edge of Lee’s bed, their hands touching. Dim morning light leached through the room’s lone window. Huddled in the big chair and still sleep confused, she tried to forget the dream Lee lifeless in her arms as she struggled up the hill, Lee lost and injured in the darkness, Lee flying through the air and hitting the tree.
Jon’s back was to her, his shirt speckled by rain. His damp hair was still as black as the day she’d met him, but he’d gained weight since the accident. No more than a few pounds around the middle, but still, it was the only weight she’d seen him put on in their thirteen years together.
He gave Lee the play by play and she found herself listening even though she already knew what had happened, had watched the game on the television in Lee’s room before she went to sleep. Lee had come along and baseball had permeated her life to the point where she kept track of every Nationals game, watched the race for the pennant, even pulled up videos for Lee to watch. Sarah Young, formerly Tate, who had avoided sports and the jocks who played them for as long as she could remember, had become a baseball fanatic. And that had been more than fine, had been wonderful, because it was part of what had defined them as a family, part of the cement that had held them together.
If only he hadn’t taken the parkway…
Always she came back to it. Because of his stupid desire to take the scenic route he’d made that turn and nothing would ever be the same. She couldn’t move past it. She couldn’t forgive him no matter how many times he apologized. She wanted to hate herself for being unable to accept his apologies, but she couldn’t, and nothing she did could change the way she felt.
Sarah sat up in the chair and the sweater she’d been knitting the night before slid to the floor with a clack of needles. Jon glanced over his shoulder at the noise and met her gaze. She realized she was still attracted to him. Even after what he’d done, even though she couldn’t see a path to forgiveness, she still loved him, even if it wasn’t the love it had been. It sounded like a cheesy line from one of those country records Jon’s dad had always listened to, but she guessed love just wasn’t enough sometimes.
She took a deep breath and said, “How long have you been here?”
Jon stared at her for a moment longer, then lowered his eyes and turned back to Lee. “Maybe ten minutes.”
Sarah glanced at the clock again. “You’re running late.”
“I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Why?”
Jon let go of Lee’s hand and slid off the bed back to the floor. He started toward her and then pulled up short and took half a step back, couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Because I found her.”
“You did?” Sarah asked. She was on her feet even though she didn’t remember standing, the fuzziness of sleep gone in a flash. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. I didn't remember what the tattoo was, but when I saw her, I didn’t have any doubt. It was her.”
Careful, Sissy. Remember what we talked about…
“Where?”
“A place in Arlington called the Hill. I stopped there… randomly… and when I went in there she was. Right behind the bar, serving drinks. It was a butterfly tattoo on her cheek. A butterfly.”
“Did you call the police?”
Jon cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. I—”
“You what?”
His words came out in a rush. “I stayed at the bar until she left and then I followed her home.”
“You saw where she lives?”
Jon swallowed and nodded. Sarah reached out, almost put her hand on his forearm before she pulled back.
He noticed but only said, “It’s an apartment complex about ten minutes from the bar. Shady Acres. Building one, unit eleven. It’s just down the road from our house.”
“You’re sure it was her? Absolutely sure?”
Jon nodded again. “Yes. Absolutely.”
He found her. He actually found her… “Did she see you?”
“No. At least not when I followed her home. I don’t think so anyway. But she saw me at the bar. I ordered from her.”
“Do you think she recognized you?”
“It didn’t seem like she did.”
“And you didn’t say anything about the accident?”
“No.” Jon hesitated then asked, “What do you think we should do? Do you think we should call the police? We don’t have any proof.”
Careful, Sissy. You haven’t seen Lee since the loading dock, and if you mess this up you’ll never see him again…
“No,” Sarah said with a gentle shake of her head. She hated to admit it, but her mother was right. She’d thought Lee was a hallucination at first, but she’d replayed his appearance behind the loading dock over and over and over and she no longer doubted he’d been real, that he'd come to her because she was the only one who could help him. “No, we shouldn’t call the police. Not yet anyway.”
“Then what?”
“I need to think about it for a couple of days.”
Jon raised his eyebrows. “But what if she leaves or something?”
“She’s got a job. She’s got an apartment. She won’t be going anywhere that quickly. I need time to think about the best way to approach her.”
“You think that’s what we should do? Talk to her?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.” She reached out again and this time she rested her hand on Jon’s arm. “Don’t go back to the bar or to her apartment. We keep away from her until I figure out what we should do. Okay?”
Jon glanced at her hand and then nodded. “Okay.”
Sarah dropped her hand. “Now hurry, before you’re late for work.”
Jon nodded, went and kissed Lee on the forehead, and then hurried out of the room. She watched him go with a flutter building in her stomach.
Good, Sissy. Good. Now it’s time to give the bartender a visit, just like we talked about…
Twenty
HARVEY
After the bust-out Harvey stayed late at the station—he finished all the operation paperwork so he could take the next day off, then took a few minutes to look up Jon and Sarah Young’s address.
He didn’t make it home until after midnight, wasn’t in the house for two minutes before he counted the cash. One stack was mostly hundreds—lucky indeed—and the total was just over nine grand. Not enough to get rid of Nonna’s problems, but enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about money for the next four or five months. Enough that he forgot about Dave, forgot about the kid, and slept through the night.
The next morning the rain was still coming down and the kid was nowhere in sight.
The ball… it was just the stress over Nonna an
d Robertson, Harvey thought as he drove away from his house. I imagined how big it was…
The rain was falling in heavy sheets by the time he parked outside the Young’s. He squinted through the rain at the house, just another unremarkable seventies rancher on a street full of them. A green Subaru was parked in the driveway in front of the open garage.
What if they’re both at work, Harvey? Not the best time to show up…
The open garage and the Subaru argued against that possibility.
What if he’s in there… Some school closings had already been announced on the radio because of potential flooding. The possibility that the kid was so close made his ballsack tighten.
He’d been certain he had to confront the kid’s parents, but parked outside their house it seemed like the worst thing he could do. The kid might not have told them anything yet, but if Harvey showed up at his front door surely he’d spill everything. And if he got caught, Nonna would be the one to suffer the most.
And so what if he isn’t home? Anything you say will make them ask the kid… Showing up at their house was stupid. He’d just have to deal with the kid. The thought made his stomach twist, but Harvey knew it was right—he couldn’t involve the parents. He was reaching for the shifter when the entry door inside the garage opened.
Harvey froze, sure the opening door would reveal the kid and his baseball.
As big as the moon…
The rain made seeing anything difficult, but Harvey could tell the person that walked down the stairs into the garage was a woman. Sarah Young most likely. He exhaled, hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. Heart thudding in his chest, Harvey watched as the woman opened a red umbrella and left the shelter of the garage. She got in the sedan, closed the garage door as she backed out, and then drove away, her taillights fading quickly in the downpour.
Not really thinking about what he was doing, Harvey started the Cherokee and followed after her.
The car turned into Rainbow Pines and pulled into a spot near the front of the facility.
Harvey followed and parked at the back, left the Cherokee running as he watched the woman head inside beneath the red umbrella. He contemplated following her immediately then decided against it.
She disappeared inside as he took his phone out of his coat and googled Rainbow Pines. The search results took a while to appear, the service no doubt affected by the rain. The first entry had the right address, had the heading Rainbow Pines — Short- and Long-Term Care Facility. Harvey slept the phone without reading more.
Gomer home… the kind of place Nonno might end up…
He thought of leaving, sure she was just visiting a grandparent, maybe even a mom or dad, but his gut told him to follow her. Pointless or not, he’d been a cop long enough to know it was a bad idea to ignore his instincts.
Harvey pulled his umbrella from the door and got out of the Cherokee into the rain, dodged the deeper puddles on his way across the parking lot.
Most of Rainbow Pines was low and rectangular, covered in cream-tinted stucco and lots of narrow, vertical windows, but the part of the building that surrounded the entrance was two stories of glass. The double doors whooshed aside and he stepped into a large, open atrium, the light coming through all that glass dim from the rain but still comforting as he closed his umbrella. The paint on the walls was fresh, the floor polished and clean, the air redolent with the smell of flowers that were in vases throughout the room. To the left and right were seating areas with new, modern-looking sofas and chairs, the reception area straight ahead.
This wouldn’t be such a bad place for Nonno… He could only imagine the sticker shock though. The future spun out before him, the money pouring into a place like the Rainbow Pines faster than he could steal it.
Remember why you’re here, Harvey…
The woman was nowhere in sight.
Harvey walked up to the reception desk where a middle-aged blond woman with beautiful eyes and an unremarkable face smiled congenially at him from her chair.
“May I help you, sir?” she asked.
“I sure hope so,” he said, dialing up Harv as he gave her his best smile. “I was supposed to meet a friend and I’m running a few minutes late. Her name is Sarah Young. Do you know if she’s here already?”
“You just missed her,” she said, tapping a clipboard next to her. “She was the last one to sign in.”
“That’s good,” said Harvey. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I promised her I’d be on time, but, you know… it’s a bit of a problem for me.”
“Me too,” said the woman in an exaggerated whisper, winking one of those beautiful eyes. She glanced at the clipboard again. “She’s only been here a few minutes, so I’m sure you’re fine.”
“Phew. Is okay if I go on back?”
“Of course. I just need you to sign in if you don’t mind,” she said, handing him the clipboard and attached pen.
“Not at all,” said Harvey. He quickly jotted down a fake name and address—it was an alias he’d used during operations so it was fresh in his mind. “I’m afraid I can’t remember the room number. Four-something. I’m as lousy at remembering directions as I am at being on time.”
“No worries. Let me see.” She typed away on her computer for a moment. “It’s actually Room 198. You’ll go down the hallway to your right, take the second left and go through a set of double doors. Take the next right and Mr. Young’s room will be the last numbered door on the left, just past the waiting area. If you make it to the door marked storage you’ve gone too far.”
“Thanks so much,” said Harvey with another smile. “Have a good day!”
“You too. Enjoy your visit to Rainbow Pines!”
Visiting her in-laws, Harvey thought as he followed the receptionist’s directions down the wide, spotless corridors, passing well-scrubbed orderlies and a few nurses, the doors to the rooms closed.
Harvey stopped just short of room 198. The muffled sound of a voice came from the other side. He listened for a moment then walked back to the waiting area he’d just passed, sat down on the couch, picked up a random magazine, and waited.
Perhaps ten minutes later Sarah Young emerged from Room 198, her red umbrella at her side. Seeing her sent him back in time to that night on the Accotink Parkway.
She walked past Harvey without a glance, her face set and determined. She was pretty, but a bit plain, her hair straight, her body slim but not curvy. She moved quickly away and a moment later disappeared around the corner that led to the building entrance.
Well, you’ve seen where she went, Harvey. What now?
Instinct had told him to follow her inside Rainbow Pines, but he felt no such compulsion to see where she went next. That left only one option.
Harvey put down the magazine, walked to Room 198 and paused outside of the closed door. He looked down the corridor to the left, but the only person in sight was a retreating janitor pushing a mop bucket. There was a small desk farther down the hall, perhaps a nurses station, but it was abandoned. To the right the hall ended at an emergency exit.
Harvey depressed the door lever, envisioned a wrinkled old man staring vacantly at the ceiling, and prepared a lie in case the occupant was aware of his presence. But when the door swung all the way open there was no old man—only a boy whose skull was flat on one side, a boy with his eyes closed.
A boy Harvey recognized.
Twenty-One
ELLE
Elle was halfway through her third screwdriver of the morning—she’d woke early for some reason, didn’t have a damn thing to do with Harvey’s visit to the Hill the night before—when someone knocked at the door.
If it’s Harvey at the door door door gonna knock him to the floor floor floor…
But when she opened the door it wasn’t Harvey—and if she felt a twinge of disappointment it was just too much vodka onboard—only a woman beneath a dripping red umbrella, the steady rain falling from a sky so dark it looked more like evening outside than almos
t noon. The woman stared at Elle, her eyes wide.
“If you’re a Jehovah’s Witness you best just turn around,” Elle said. “Nobody here needs saving.”
“I was hoping I could speak to you for a few minutes,” the woman replied, her words as stiff as her back. As she spoke her eyes narrowed in a way that Elle didn’t care for. It gave the woman’s unremarkable face a pinched, shrewy look.
Two screwdrivers ago she would’ve slammed the door in the woman’s face, but drunken boredom prevailed. “About what?”
“My son,” the shrew said after a brief hesitation.
“I’m not following, lady,” Elle said as she raised her glass only to find it empty. She let her hand drop with disgust.
Too much think think think need another drink drink drink…
The shrew’s thin lips pursed. “My husband saw you last night. He recognized you by the…” She trailed off and touched her cheek.
It took Elle a moment to realize the shrew meant the butterfly, the shitty tattoo she’d gotten after a drunken birthday party when she was fifteen.
Recognized… ? What? Then the various ethanol-soaked cogs in her head turned and aligned and she remembered the Asian guy staring at her from across the bar, remembered the blood mask, remembered the kid Harvey described to her, and what the woman said—recognized—clicked into place.
“Get the hell out of here,” Elle said as she retreated into the apartment and started to slam the door.
The shrew moved with surprising speed, dropped her umbrella and stepped into the doorway to take the swinging door on her shoulder. Elle was so shocked she watched dumbly as the door bounced off the shrew, who only gave a small grunt as she pushed farther inside.
“I’m not going anywhere,” the shrew said. “Does the man that was with you that night live here too?”
