The 8th Circle
Page 29
“They sent that creature Mason after me because they thought I’d betrayed them, that I was helping you, but I wore my collar that night. He couldn’t make a good cut, and by God I fought the little bastard like hell. As it was, he nicked my jugular but not the carotid artery. I’m a doctor. I was able to slow the bleeding.”
“You gave me the disc at the party. You must have known what was on it.”
“I did. I also knew I wouldn’t be implicated anywhere. I’m on no list. I was never a real member of the club. I just paid for Andy.”
“But you were implicating him.”
“No. This was going to be the crowning achievement of Andy’s career. His paper was going to win the goddamn Robert Kennedy Prize for Public Service. Don’t you understand? He even had a spot for it.” She stared at him unblinking, and he knew that something inside Linda had snapped. His Linda was gone. Only the husk remained.
Some are born to endless night. He didn’t know how to answer. Maybe she really believed what she was saying.
Linda sighed. “You know the worst part? I miss him.”
Danny knew he should call the police, but it wouldn’t change anything. “So in the end, you won,” he said at last.
“In the end, nobody won. I lost my husband and son. You lost Conor and Beth. You lost Kate. Robert Harlan may still be able to cause mischief, but he’s done as a presidential prospect. Oh, he’ll remain in the Senate, but he won’t go further. You might not think that’s hell, but for a man like him, the presidency was his life’s ambition. The paper won’t get any prizes for this story. Too much controversy. You and I get to survive, but to what end? I don’t know. It all feels very hollow. There’s no morality tale. It just is.”
“That’s very Buddhist of you,” Danny said. He tried to summon up anger but couldn’t. She was right. In the end everyone had lost.
“You should stay. Maybe we’ll heal each other, and then I’ll send you back to the world.”
“You know I can’t stay.”
“Because you still have a column to write.”
He shook his head. “I quit.”
“Yes. I know. Steinman called in a panic when you just disappeared.” She laughed at his confusion. “Danny, my family always owned the controlling interest in the paper. Andy worked for me, though no one knew it. Don’t worry. I’ll work things out with Steinman. He’s an ass, but he’s got talent. I’m trusting you and Westy and the rest to break him in.”
“Not this time, Linda. I quit.”
“I know, darling, but you didn’t really. You have a contract, and I won’t let you out of it.”
“I think you will,” Danny said. “I think you’ll tell Steinman I’m leaving.”
“And why would I do that?” She blinked those predatory eyes at him again, preparing for a fight.
“Because I’m done. I need time to think, to begin something new. I have a mission. I don’t like adults who think it’s acceptable to use children for sex.”
“Do you think I’ll let you just walk away and hand something like that to the New York Times?” She looked at him not with anger but a tinge of sorrow.
“Yes, I think you will. If not for yourself, for Andy. Because I have more evidence. Much worse evidence that no one wants brought to light.”
She put her hands to her face, and he realized she wore no jewelry. He’d never seen her hands without adornment.
“Andy always believed you were his mitzvah. I always looked at you as something else. A lost son, I suppose. Andy wasn’t alone in wanting another son. You were everything I wanted Michael to be.” She dropped her hands. “I have to live with that too. Atone. So be it.”
Danny wanted to tell her to stop talking, but he couldn’t. It was too late. He already knew what she was going to say.
“I shot Michael.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and he had to lean close. “We fought. He made me watch that video. The children. It was hideous. I knew Andy would be charged with conspiracy at the least. I begged Michael, but he laughed and told me how much he hated me. Something . . . snapped. I didn’t mean to shoot him. I tried to get him to come with me to the hospital, but he ran. He ran.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose I blame him. But it was an accident, Danny. Kate was there. It happened at her apartment.”
“At Kate’s apartment?” Kate had told him Michael was there that night. She had just left out a few convenient details.
“I knew he’d show up there eventually, and I told her to call when he did. He was raving. He threatened us with a .22. Here’s a lesson for you, Daniel. Never pull a gun unless you’re willing to fire. He came at Kate, and I shot him. I only meant to wound him.” Linda paused and took a breath. When she looked at him, her face was flushed with anger. “Damn it! Why did you have to fall apart? He would have gone to you first, and you would have handled him. Do you really believe I wanted to kill my child?”
“No.” Did it matter what he believed? In the end, he wasn’t sure anyone cared. “I believe you wanted to save your husband.”
“We cleaned up the blood, and I bought her that rug just in case.”
“You thought of everything.”
“I knew Michael was up to something. I thought Kate and I could reason with him. Since you’d been gone, he grew so despondent. He started visiting clubs, and by God, he stumbled into the wrong one. I’m sure that’s how he discovered those discs. He needed money for membership, and he went into Andy’s safe. The best part was that he left everything there until he was ready to come to you.”
It made sense. Michael could screw his father by finally producing a huge story. “He wanted Kate to tell him it was okay.”
Linda nodded. “She was kind to him.”
Danny took Linda by the shoulders. “Listen to me carefully. There’s still more evidence, and if anything happens to me or my family. Anything. I will bring down a world of hurt.”
Linda nodded. “Nobody wants trouble. I think that’s a safe bet.” She reached up and touched his face, letting her fingers rest on his cheeks. She kissed him briefly on the lips. “You must remember the good times. Andy would want that. Now, it’s getting late, and I have a few things to finish. You’re free to stay, of course, but I know that’s not your plan. You’ll forgive me if I don’t see you out.”
She smiled, but her face was as pale as her scarf, as if purging herself had drained the life from her. When she walked back into the house, she seemed ethereal, and he supposed Linda had become yet another ghost.
He walked down to the beach to stare out at the ocean and wonder if a door had opened or closed.
Danny smelled citrus, stronger now, and for a moment he swore he heard a child’s laugh borne on the wind. It seemed so peaceful, only the waves that caressed the shore, the rustle of palms. Still, he could feel the rapid cadence of his heart because he knew that peace was an illusion. A dream. And monsters would always prowl the dark corners of his dreams.
Sunlight caught the edge of a cresting wave. It flared like a beacon—crimson, bright yellow, and then deep violet—before the wave crashed and rushed toward the beach.
Acknowledgments
So many people have been there to support me on this long and very twisted road to publication. First, thank you to my husband, Howard, and children, Alexandra, Michael, and Mary, who have always understood Mom’s need to retreat into her writing corner.
Thank you to Gary Zenker and the kind and supportive folks at the Main Line Writers’ Group. Special thanks to my very special critique group: Tony Conaway, Matthew Fisher, Brian Mahon, Matt McGeehan, Elizabeth Stolar, and especially Paul Popiel for all his generous help editing and formatting, and Lorinda Lende, my intrepid partner in crime; a talented, funny lady; and an extraordinary friend. You guys rock and write.
Thank you to Julie Duffy, creator of the StoryADay May flash fiction challenge, for giving me a creative kick start when I needed it.
Thank you to Dragon Queen Rebekah Postupak of Flash! Friday for your enthusiastic and
generous support.
Thank you, Philadelphia Daily News political columnist John Baer for taking the time to read the doorstop and to offer so much encouragement.
Thank you, Susan Settaduccato, for reading many drafts of this novel and remaining supportive, kind, and just amazing. You’re a word artist, my friend.
Thank you to my wonderful agent, Rene Fountain, for believing.
Thank you to the delightful people at Crooked Lane Books, especially Matthew Martz and Nike Power, for taking on this book, editing, and wringing out the story.
Last, but never least, thank you to my dear, dear friend and fellow traveler Maria Hazen Lewis, an amazing writer who has spent hours reading, commiserating, hand holding, and just being there. You are quite simply the best.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Acknowledgments