The NOVA Trilogy Boxed Set

by Jayce, Aven

  “You’re right, my father deserved what he got; I even wished death upon him. That doesn’t mean I’m not sad about all of it, and that I’m not overwrought with extreme guilt for having thought it, but I do understand how all of you feel, and I don’t blame any of you for feeling that way. He was evil, and now he’s gone, so if you want to celebrate, go ahead. I can’t explain the grief that’s inside of me, or why it’s there. You’d think after everything I’ve seen and experienced I’d want to jump for joy with all of you, but that’s not the case. People died, and I can’t get the image of my father and Patrick out of my head.”

  Cove slides across the seat and puts his arm over my shoulder. “No one’s going to celebrate. You have a right to deal with this any way you see fit, and we’re all here to support you while you’re going through this. You can count on every person in this car to be there for you.” He looks to the front and Lydia and Leondra both nod.

  “I just can’t stop thinking about all the blood and the image of everyone holding a gun. Why did everyone have a gun anyway? And the bodies, my father’s head, Patrick so lifeless. We had just talked to him, watched him walk up those stairs. My father too. And just like that, they’re gone.” I place my elbows on my knees and rest my forehead on the palms of my hands. Cove rubs my back in a comforting way as Leondra reaches back and touches my shoulder.

  “We’re all in distress and experiencing some kind of sorrow over what happened, my dear. Patrick carried a heavy heart for many years, and maybe if I had stepped in and spoken to him he’d still be alive. The three of us will fall prey to our own thoughts, the ‘what if’s,’ for a long time over this,” Leondra says in a gentle voice.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Patrick?” Cove asks.

  “Your father thought it would be best to distance you from that lifestyle, because of the drugs. Patrick had a kind and tender way about him, but he had a dark side as well. His friends and partner were all users and we didn’t want you involved in that. We knew you already had a lot to overcome, and adding drugs to the mix... God, could you imagine? Plus, we thought Patrick could keep an eye on you from behind the scenes without Paul knowing he was family. Whenever your father mentioned to you that he could sic the dogs on Paul, he was primarily referring to Patrick. Your father was the one who told him how to split the wires on the security cameras, among other things.”

  “Dad knew about all of that?”

  “From what I can tell, yes. We’re unable to talk about it much when I visit him at the prison, but he’s been able to slip a few bits and pieces of information my way over the past couple of years. He knew Patrick was savvy with technology, and that he just needed a little guidance to do certain things. Patrick would periodically drop by the prison for short visits as a midpoint stop on his way out to Philly to see his parents.”

  I lift my head and gaze out the window. I’m tired from two days of crying and very little sleep. It’s Sunday evening and the sun is beginning to set over the city, the lights from the strip sparkling upward into the sky. It’s been since Thursday that I was in a bed, the night of the football game, when Devery was over and my father lost his shit. I wonder what happened to Mera... oh fuck it. I don’t care. “Why did you have a gun?” I whisper. No one hears me. Cove’s still talking to his mother about Patrick, and Lydia’s focused on the road. “Why did you have a gun?” I ask in a louder voice. “And Devery. Why did the two of you have guns? Were you going to shoot my father?”

  Everyone is silent as Lydia pulls into her driveway and pushes the button on the garage door opener. I watch the door rise slowly to reveal Wayne standing stoically, waiting for our return. He smiles and steps back for his wife to pull in.

  “Aren’t you glad we called the cops?” he says in an excited tone as we step out of the car and enter their home. “Lydia wasn’t sure what to do at first, because of her sister and all, and the safety of everyone, but I convinced her it was the right thing, and thank goodness I did because who knows what would’ve happened to everyone if the police didn’t arrive when they did. That Dayne Rosen character could have killed every last one of you. And why the heck didn’t you come to us sooner? I have friends you know. Friends in high places.”

  “You have poker buddies, Wayne,” Lydia smiles and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “A bunch of high school teachers aren’t exactly people in high places, at least not according to how society views that field these days. Plus, have you seen the size of the Rosen twins? Your friends would have gotten their asses kicked, or worse.”

  “Language my dear wife, we’ve got young ones with us this evening,” he raises his eyebrows and takes five beers out of the fridge. “A cold one for my favorite nephew and his beautiful woman,” he says with a wink as he pats Cove on the back and takes a seat at the kitchen table. “Come on, sit down, I want to hear that you’re okay. Let me help you, all of you. It’s time. No more hiding out from your family. And Cove, what’s wrong with your foot, why are you limping?”

  “I’m sure they’re tired honey, physically and emotionally exhausted. Perhaps we should just give everyone some space for the evening. Cove and Sophia have been in a cell since Friday night, and Leondra hasn’t been able to talk to her son in over a week. Let’s head to the living room to watch some TV and give these three some much-needed time with one another. We can have breakfast with them in the morning before they head back to St. Louis.”

  “Alright,” he sighs. “But, now that I know about the past, I’m going to be overly protective in the future. No human being deserves to be treated like a piece of trash.”

  “Thank you.” Leondra sends a smile of relief toward her sister and the two embrace before Lydia and her husband walk out of the kitchen. “Cove, come here,” she says. “Let me hold you.” They hug one another and my heart breaks as I feel their love fill the room. I wonder if my mother has thought about me over the past few weeks, if she’s tried to call, or if I should call her, and would I ever have a relationship with any member of my family like the two of them have? Probably not. I might see her at the funeral. Will there be a funeral? Oh Jesus, a funeral... for my father... and his estate... and... my God. What am I supposed to do? Do I need to take care of any of that? Has anyone notified my brother? I sit at the table as my legs begin to give way. The thought of everything that needs to happen, all that has to be done; it’s overwhelming.

  “You okay, Soph? You look pale,” Cove asks, as he steps away from his mother.

  “Can I have some water?”

  “Sure, sweetie,” Leondra replies. “Cove, sit with her while I get each of us a glass of cold water.”

  He places a strand of my hair behind my ear and tugs at my ear lobe, shooting me a warm smile that penetrates deep into my heart. “I have a lot to do and I’m not prepared for the responsibility that goes along with any of this. A funeral. Contacting family. The estate. Where do I start?”

  “We’re here for you. We’ll get through this, together,” he responds.

  Leondra places three glasses on the table and I take a slow drink, allowing the cold liquid to soothe my dry throat. I’m dehydrated, my lips are cracked, and my head pounds with a crippling migraine that blurs my vision. “Leondra, where’s Devery?” I ask.

  “She flew back to St. Louis a few hours ago. Her stay was for the weekend. She’ll be back in her office to meet with her patients in the morning. David Rosen was very clear to Dayne and me before the police arrived that as far as anyone is concerned, she was never in that house, she was here visiting Doron’s wife. She’s a wreck right now, but has to go about her normal business until she’s notified about her brothers. I know Dayne’s already been arrested, but I’m not sure about Doron. It may take the police some time to come across his connection to the business, and David will be working hard to save his sons.”

  “Why did the two of you have guns? I walked in and saw both of you holding a gun. Were you going to shoot my father?”

  “Yes... I was, but not Devery.”r />
  “Mother!” Cove yells. “What the fuck? You didn’t really just say that. Jesus. You’d be in prison like Dad.”

  “But you’d be free, and eventually your father as well. If it had played out that way it would’ve been worth it. I’d have done just about anything to save the two of you,” she pauses and takes my hand. “The three of you.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. And what do you mean Dad would be free? How’s that possible if you shot Paul instead of Patrick doing it? Did you know about his stash in the storage unit and his whole plan?”

  “I had my own plan, Cove.”

  “I don’t want to hear anymore. This is bullshit that you would even consider ruining your life to get that scum,” he grumbles, pushing the water aside and swallowing large gulps of beer instead. His stern face changes quickly to a repentant expression when he realizes what he’s just said. “Sorry, Sophia. That was inconsiderate of me.”

  “It’s fine. Really, I understand. So what was your plan?” I turn and ask Leondra.

  “It was a rough plan, nothing I had prearranged in great detail, just a hope that there would be a small chance that it could... that it just might work,” she hesitates. “Last year when Patrick made a trip through St. Louis, he gave me a digital file he’s had for years; the original to the one the police found on our home computer that became the basis for the hard evidence used in your father’s case. Patrick was deeply depressed and full of regret that he had never come forward with it at the time of the trial, that he had somehow facilitated its appearance on our desktop, and because of that shame, it took him years to present it to me.”

  “Why couldn’t you give it to the police?” I ask.

  “I was unable to prove where it came from. To the police, it would just appear as though it was mine. Carl was in a similar situation. He could never get into Paul’s office, and he knew the police wouldn’t listen to him because he had been arrested a few times for prostitution. It was up to me to figure out a way to get it back into Paul’s possession, preferably in his office, and then somehow enable the police to find it. With the events of the past few weeks I was at my wits end and knew it was time. It all came together when Devery showed up. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

  “What did she do?” Cove inquires as he takes another swig of beer.

  “She did something for us that no other human being would ever do, and she was able to get the file onto his desktop. You should know she almost lost her life in the process.”

  “Are you saying...” I start to inquire about the night Devery was in the house, only to be cut off by Leondra.

  “Don’t ask. It’s over.”

  “So Paul didn’t shoot at Dayne, that shot was intended for Devery?” Cove asks.

  Leondra nods and the three of us are silent for some time, processing the information, and shaking our heads in disbelief. I look at the floor, my eyes heavy from lack of sleep, my skin grimy from not showering since Friday, and my clothes dirty, wrinkled, and tattered after a weekend of wear. I’m beyond the point of exhaustion, yet still in need of some answers.

  “So you were going to shoot my father and call the police, or someone in the house would call the police, so they would maybe, possibly, come across the file?”

  Leondra bows her head and nods.

  “And Devery’s gun?” I inquire with a large yawn, my eyes now closed to small slits, allowing only a small amount of light to pass through them.

  “She brought it for protection, and I was unaware she had it, but I certainly don’t blame her after what she had been through the night before. She was worried about me and she may have had plans of her own, although she’d never mention anything to us if she did.”

  My chin rests on my hand as I lean toward the table drifting into a light sleep. Cove’s voice enters my head with excitement about the possibility of his father’s release, and never having to deal with Paul or the Rosen twins again. I doze, my body jerking every so often, waking me for a few brief moments to hear Cove and Leondra discussing what will take place when we return home, and everything we need to take care of. I’m awakened again as Cove lifts me from the chair and carries me up the stairs to a large bedroom with sloped walls and a dormer window. We must be over Wayne and Lydia’s garage. I wrap my arms around his neck, and when he sees my eyes open for a brief moment, he gives me a warm smile and a wink then lays me on the bed. I force myself to stay awake, watching him gently take off my socks and jeans, and then folding them and placing them on a chair in the nightlight lit room. His warm hands slide under my tank and hoodie and around to my back. He pulls me up and lifts the clothing over my head and lays them on top of the rest. With a soft touch, he raises my legs and slides the blanket out from underneath me; covering my exposed flesh with the soft, fleece material. My eyes close again as a light kiss is placed on my forehead and my hair is brushed off my face.

  “I love you,” I whisper. He responds with a loud sigh, his lips pressed against my neck, and the blanket pulled up to my chin.

  I finally feel comfortable and safe, my body relaxes and my heart slows as my mind drifts into the darkness of the early night.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Water.

  In the back of my mind, in a dream, I hear a splash of water.

  I see it now. I’m standing on the top step of my father’s pool in the backyard of his Vegas home, and I can feel the warmth of the water covering my feet up to my ankles. My head tilts back and I’m lost in a gaze of the rapidly setting sun. Yellow-orange rays coat my body with a warm rush of heat. Laughter of a playful young boy comes from the deep end of the pool, with the sound of feet kicking in the water and giggles echoing through the evening breeze. I turn away from the sun and see a small head dip under the water...red water... my eyes look quickly down at my feet at the dark color. I lift a foot to view the sticky, thick, fluid... it’s blood. The boy’s head floats up from the pool directly in front of me, and he grins. It’s Cove. He looks so young and innocent, maybe twelve, and his hands try to part the blood in front of him, as if it’s the red sea and he’s in search of an escape from the slave labor forced upon him by the Pharaoh... the King... my father. With blood dripping down his face, he offers up a sinister smile. His head lowers partway into the dark fluid then rapidly pops back out spurting blood from his mouth toward my feet like a garden cupid. I step back in horror and trip over a solid cold mass of flesh, landing hard on the concrete patio. It’s my father’s body. I scream and Cove giggles in delight. The side of my father’s head is blown apart and I’m sitting in a pool of blood and bone. His eyes open and I panic, but can’t scream, or move, or even breathe. My mind knows I’m dreaming, but I’m unable to wake my body. All I can do is watch with extreme terror as he places his hand over mine. I try again to scream, my mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Help me, I shout from the inside of my mind, mute and paralyzed with fear.

  “I’m still living in all of you, Kiddo,” my father whispers as I finally jerk out of the nightmare and frantically try to catch my breath.

  “Fuck,” I pant with tears welling in my eyes. “Cove?” I reach for him but the bed is cold. There’s the sound of flowing water coming from just outside the door to the bedroom. I follow the trail of light and soft human cries to a partially open bathroom door where a shower runs, and steam flows out of the space. With my hand placed on the doorframe I listen to him, as he sobs just a few feet away. I want to enter and hold him, yet I can sense he needs this time to himself. A good cry is healing and powerful, and it’s about time he can be alone to experience it. I step away, not wanting to inhibit any emotions that are surging so freely from his body. Quietly, I move back to the bed and crawl under the covers.

  I lay awake until I hear the water stop and the door to the bedroom eventually creak shut. He slips into the bed next to me, naked; his flesh is warm and smells like Irish Spring soap. I place my hand on the side of his face, feel his cleanly shaven skin under my fingers, and sense h
is smile as his cheeks rise to my touch.

  “Hey, Baby.” His voice is calm as he wraps a leg over mine and presses his chest against my body. “I hope I didn’t wake my beautiful white dove.”

  “No,” I respond with a deep exhale. “You okay?”

  “Maybe. Ask me that again in a year or two and I may have a definite answer for you.”

  “I’m sorry. I heard you in the shower and my heart was overcome with pain for your sadness.”

  “Some of it was elation and relief, Soph. Emotions I haven’t felt in over a decade. And not to sound too callous, but the depression I’m feeling right now has to do with the fact that I’m probably going to spend the next few months in a police station going over videos and details of your father’s business. I hate to have to go back to NOVA, to relive all of that again, but I’ll need to do it for my father, but no, it’s not sadness or mourning in any way for Paul’s death. I do feel bad for Patrick and the way Paul treated him, fuck, the way I treated him for that matter. I was a complete dick to him all the time. I wish I had known....” His voice trails off and he raises his arm to cover his eyes. “Fuck, Soph. Your father was so sick. How am I going to get over this? How am I going to walk into the police station and view their evidence and talk about all the things he made me do?” His voice wavers as he fights back a second wave of tears.

  “I just had a nightmare about my dad when you were in the shower. He told me he was still alive in all of us.”

  “Yeah, well no shit. He’s gonna be inside of us until the day we die.”

  “I know, but at some point we’ll need to try and move forward so we can have at least a small semblance of a normal life. Detective Hayes was right, we’ll need to go to therapy, and the sooner the better.”

  He’s silent as he wipes his eyes and cheeks free of falling tears, then tries to distract himself by lighting his watch face to view the time on the display. It glows and the numbers on his wrist read two o’clock. It’s late, or early, and I’ve been asleep for a good five hours.