It was much worse than he realized it’d be, much worse than the periodic shakes and tremors he’d previously gotten after just a few days.
It was spiraling out of control. The recent string of home starts had advanced to a frequency that made him go out too often, and had exacerbated his condition so much his nerve endings felt raw and his limbs like jelly.
It had gotten so bad he even considered asking Corin to check and see if they could do something to help him out. But he stopped himself. He couldn’t go there. Not yet. If he did that, they’d make him stop. They were clear on that. The message to Corin was the death at Union Square was the last straw and if there was one more incident, they’d intervene. He wasn’t sure he believed them, but even so, he knew they wouldn’t help him. Not if he continued to do what he was doing. They’d insist that he’d have to stop if he wanted their help. There was little doubt about that. And since he wasn’t ready to stop, seeking their help really wasn’t a viable option. Besides, he didn’t know if they’d be able to help anyway.
That left him with only one option—increase the hits.
And although he wasn’t sure if that would buy him the time he needed or incapacitate him beyond help, as he watched his hands tremor while they dangled over his thighs, he realized he didn’t have a choice.
He wouldn’t last to the next start without it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Kyle shot Bree a text on his way to his office after finishing his afternoon class, saying he’d stop by when he was finished grading papers.
His plan was to try and convince her to join him at Eddie’s shore house for the weekend, but he didn’t hold out much hope she’d agree. She was still upset at him for pulling her out of camp. But he wasn’t budging, and neither was Sheila. The details about the “prank” call had spooked his ex-wife as well. But Kyle was still the real enemy since he was the one who insisted someone be with Bree at all times. It was straining their relationship like never before.
As he rounded the corner and looked up after sending the text, he stopped in his tracks. In front of him, standing right outside his office, was Liam’s familiar squat form leaning against the wall, a tight black T-shirt with a faded Batman symbol clinging to his flabby chest.
They hadn’t spoken since the day Kyle brought Bree back from camp, when he told Liam his involvement in the hemorrhage incidents was over. He didn’t give a reason why, didn’t say anything about what happened, and definitely nothing about the threats. All he said was he was done. Liam didn’t say much in response, didn’t try to convince Kyle he was wrong. He didn’t even ask if they’d remain friends. He just quietly accepted Kyle’s decision.
The ease of his acceptance made Kyle suspicious, and he wondered if Liam had been threatened as well. He didn’t know and didn’t ask, and may have just been paranoid. The reason for Liam’s easy acceptance could’ve been something as simple as the fact that the Yankees were on the road. Whatever the reason, Kyle wasn’t going to risk Bree’s life to find out. And though it pained him to just abandon the man like that, he didn’t have any choice.
But now Liam was back.
“I figured it out,” Liam said, the dark bags under his eyes continuing to grow worse, making it look like he hadn’t slept since Kyle last saw him even as an excited glint snuck through the bleary glaze. “I know what’s going on.”
Kyle fixed his eyes into Liam. “I’m done, Liam. I don’t want to know about it.”
“But I’ve got it this time,” Liam said. “I know exactly what’s going on.”
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
“I know you’re stressed about the mediation,” Liam said, “but all you have to do is listen. That’s all. I’m not asking you to do any more stakeouts. I promise.”
“There’s nothing to listen to, Liam.”
“Are you joking?” Liam laughed.
Kyle scanned the hallways to see if anyone was watching or listening. He saw no one. “I’m not joking,” he said in a strong whisper. “It’s in the hands of the police now. They know everything. I’ve told them about it, they know everything, and they’ll act appropriately if needed.”
“But the police said—”
“I’m done, Liam,” Kyle interrupted. “Done.”
“Look, I know you’ve got a lot of stuff to deal with right now. And I didn’t want to bother you until the mediation’s over, but when I went to tell that boob Slattery what was going on, he said I should talk to you first.”
“What did you say to him? Did you tell him you were talking to me?”
“What? No,” Liam said, pushing up his glasses. “Like I just said, I wanted to talk to him, but he stonewalled me and said to talk to you first. He said he already spoke to you about their investigation.”
“Well there’s nothing to talk about,” Kyle said. “They know what we know. That’s it.”
“Why are you acting so strange?” Liam asked. “All I want to do is talk, that’s it. Is it because you think I’ll pull a gun again? If that’s it, I can promise you it won’t happen. I’m going to do it the right way this time. I’ll have the police handle it. I’ll let them get him and then bring him to Allie and get her out of her coma. I just don’t get why everyone is making that so hard.”
“Because no one thinks there’s anything going on,” Kyle lied. “That’s why. So either drop it, or just leave me out of it, okay?”
“But you know there’s something going on. I know you do. And I’m telling you, I now know for certain what it is.”
Kyle looked around, still seeing no one. He took a deep breath and then grabbed hold of Liam’s right bicep and pulled him closer. “It’s over for me,” he whispered. “Got it?” He tightened his grip on Liam’s arm. “You have to just leave me out of whatever you’re doing.”
“What’s going on here? Why are you acting like this? This has nothing to do with the mediation, does it?”
The frustration in Kyle’s voice sliced though the air as he said again, “You just have to leave me out of whatever you’re doing.” He let go of Liam. “Now just go. Leave. I don’t want to hear anymore.”
Liam stumbled backward, one of his sandals coming loose, his own eyes growing more resolute and firm, defiant. “No,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Friends stand by each other. And I know you don’t mean what you’re saying right now. So tell me what’s going on. You can trust me, you know that.”
Kyle took another deep breath, realizing what he’d have to do to get the man to leave. He’d have to go where he’d been desperately avoiding. “We’re not friends, Liam,” he said. “I’ve been trying to help you deal with your emotions, deal with the sister and the family you should be supporting rather than spending your time chasing a killer who might not even exist.”
“You’re lying. I can tell something else is going on, isn’t it?”
Kyle didn’t respond right away. He didn’t want to say it but he had no choice. He had to pull out the only dagger he had left and plunge it straight into the sterling image Liam had painted of him. It would be the only thing that would chase Liam away, and he couldn’t concern himself with the collateral damage. It didn’t matter anymore. Bree was all that mattered.
“You want to know the real reason I’ve been listening to you? Do you?” Kyle clenched his jaw and shot a stern gaze straight through Liam’s confused eyes. “It’s because I was with Allie the night she collapsed.”
“You were with her?”
“Yes, Liam,” Kyle said. “I was. I was with her.”
“Why?”
He drew a deep breath. “Because I’m not who you think I am.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was trying to be with her, Liam,” he said. “In just the way you’re thinking about. And I sent her texts about it. Then I deleted them after she collapsed because I was afraid someone would find them. That’s it. That’s the real reason. I’ve been lying to you this entire time.”
Liam’s
stunned gaze remained on Kyle, studying him, trying to absorb what was being said.
“You were trying to sleep with Allie?”
Kyle tightened his lips. “Read the texts that I’m sure the techs already found. It’s all there.”
Liam shook his head.
“It’s true, Liam,” he said. “Read the texts.”
“No,” Liam said. “This has to be about something else.”
“Go ahead and read them. And after you do, let go of looking into the strokes. The police already know everything. If there’s something going on, they’ll handle it.”
But Liam wasn’t listening anymore.
“You’ve been lying this entire time?”
Kyle wanted to say no, but he couldn’t, he had no choice. The man wasn’t going to budge unless Kyle went to the extreme. It was the only sure way to keep Bree safe.
“Goodbye, Liam.”
Liam said nothing as Kyle turned away and walked into his office, then shut the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Kyle waved at the doorman in the lobby of Sheila’s building, then rode the elevator up to the twenty-second floor and walked over to her apartment. He rapped his knuckles against the steel door, against the same tiny scratch in the paint that’d been there for the last ten years.
His ex-wife answered, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, the dark roots and gray sprouts clearly visible at the strained hairline—just like when she was pregnant with Bree, avoiding the chemicals of the hair dye. He dropped his eyes down to her midsection, but couldn’t see much of a bulge through the sundress.
He wondered when she would tell him, or if she would. Perhaps it wasn’t the intentional decision to keep it a secret he thought it was. Maybe she just simply didn’t think about him anymore when monumental events occurred. Why would she? Their only link now was Bree, which was a rather easy, uncomplicated relationship since they both lived in the city and were able to spend a significant amount of time with her. Child support payments weren’t an issue since Sheila was wealthy and didn’t need them, and Kyle hadn’t even given her a hassle in the divorce. He didn’t want a dime from her, not even an equitable share of their common property.
So why would she tell him? Courtesy? Maybe. But maybe it was more courteous not to tell him. Not to rub it in. Not to make him feel any worse about their relationship, about himself, than he already did.
But he did know.
And it hurt.
And there was only so much space left inside for internalizing. He was running out of room.
“I didn’t know you’d be home. I thought Helen would be here,” he said, referring to Sheila’s housekeeper as he walked into the expansive foyer. “I was supposed to pick up Bree for dinner, try and convince her to come out to Eddie’s for the weekend.”
“I came home early,” Sheila said, closing the door.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Just had an appointment.”
Kyle walked deeper into the living room, expecting to see a pouty Bree lounging on the plush leather couch across from the large flat screen mounted on the wall. But the living room was empty.
“Where’s Bree?” he asked. “In her room tweeting about how much she hates her father?”
“She’s not here.”
Kyle’s nerves prickled. “Not here? Where is she? She was supposed to be here. I told her to wait here for me. I told her I’d pick her up.” He quickly slipped out his BlackBerry to call her.
“Relax,” Sheila said. “She’s fine. She’s with a friend. I told her not to tell you.”
Kyle looked up. “Why?”
Sheila walked past the breakfast bar. “Because I wanted to talk to you.”
“What friend is she with?”
“She’s fine, Kyle. Trust me. She’s with Adrea and her family.”
Kyle knew the name. Adrea was a friend from Bree’s class. Her father was George Apostalakos, founder of a top hedge fund. “I thought Adrea’s family was in Greece for the summer?”
“They changed their plans. They’re not leaving for another two weeks.”
Kyle calmed himself and sat down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. He was pretty certain Sheila wanted to speak to him about her pregnancy, but he continued to play dumb and simply asked her what was on her mind.
“This isn’t something that’s easy to say,” she said, pulling two Fiji waters out of the refrigerator.
He knew it wasn’t. It hadn’t been easy to hear.
“I’d hoped you would have found someone else by now. It would have made this easier.”
The statement had the effect of churning the dagger in his heart even deeper. “Found someone else by now?” he repeated. “It hasn’t been that long.”
“I’m not saying you should be married, or even engaged or living with someone. I was just hoping you’d have someone you care about, someone to date. It’s been a while since we separated, Kyle,” she said. “And you really haven’t dated anyone.”
He stood up. “That’s a ridiculous statement. And how would you even know who I’m dating or not?”
“I know, Kyle. I know you don’t socialize, don’t date. I know you don’t do much of anything but work and spend time with Bree.”
“She’s my damn daughter. Is it so wrong to want to spend time with my daughter?”
“Of course not,” Sheila said. “But that’s not an excuse for not dating.”
“How do you know what I do? From Bree? Maybe I choose not to tell my daughter about my dating life. Did you ever consider that?”
“It’s not just Bree,” she said. “I’ve spoken with Eddie.”
“Eddie?” Kyle was caught off guard. Eddie hated Sheila. “You called Eddie?”
She shook her head. “He called me. He’s worried about you.”
His gut reaction was to tell her he was fine, insist that she and Eddie were meddling where they shouldn’t. But, as was his nature, he controlled his emotions and dialed down the raw reflex of reacting rather than thinking—a blessing, and a curse.
“There’s been a lot to absorb,” he said, softly, taking a sip of water. “It wasn’t, and isn’t, as easy for me as it was for you. You already had your mind made up, you already found someone else. You dropped a bomb on me.” He swallowed back his hurt. “Maybe things had hit a lull for us. I know that. Maybe it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. But it did. There was no working on it, no time for me to get used to it, consider it. It was just pulled away from me.”
“I know,” she said.
“I didn’t want this, Sheila,” he said, a few tears welling in his eyes. “Our life may not have been perfect, but it’s what I wanted. I wanted our life, I wanted our family. Together.”
Sheila didn’t say anything, just stared at him.
“So yes, it’s taken me awhile. And maybe I’m still not there yet. But I haven’t been considering this for years like you were. I wasn’t having an affair with anyone. And I didn’t plan on having another child with someone else.”
She swallowed the statement. “So you already know then?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t do it to hurt you.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot you didn’t do to hurt me,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But it does hurt. It all hurts. And I guess this is just one more nail in the coffin. One more slap in the face to remind me once again that you’ve really moved on.”
“I never meant to hurt you. And I didn’t mean to cheat on you. I just couldn’t—”
“We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to rehash the past. I’ve done that enough times already. It’s over. I know that. And I guess Eddie was right to be concerned. It is time for me to move on. Once this case is over, once I have that weight lifted, maybe I’ll have more of the clean slate I’m looking for.”
“When’s that going to be?”
“Tomorrow, I hope. We have the second day of a mediation scheduled.”
She looked up at
him. “I didn’t mean to bring these things out,” she said. “I’m sorry to have been the one who caused all of this, and for the way it happened.”
“You did what you did,” he said. “I was okay with sacrificing intimacy for comfort. You weren’t. I didn’t do enough to realize it, and you didn’t do enough to make me aware of it. And this is where we are. It happens.”
A tear trickled down her cheek as she took hold of his hand. “I’m sorry, Kyle.”
He slid his hand away and simply said, “So am I.”
He wanted to hold her, wanted her comfort. But he knew he couldn’t go there anymore.
He had to move on.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
With the next home start still days away and his mind and body deteriorating at breakneck speed, he cemented his decision. He needed to go out early. He needed a hit and there were no other options. If he waited too long, he wasn’t even sure he’d be fit enough to go out again. He could barely walk, had trouble keeping his thoughts together.
He left the apartment at eleven that night, hoping a death wouldn’t be necessary this time. Maybe he could get by with taking some, but not all.
He stepped off the elevator and nodded at the doorman in the lobby, making sure to keep his trembling hands in his pockets as he strained to keep his slow gait steady.
When he reached the sidewalk—the warm humid air clinging to his skin—he slipped his baseball cap out of his back pocket and put it on, pulling the brim down to cover his eyes.
He didn’t trust himself to drive, so he stepped off the curb and hailed a taxi. A deviation from his prior excursions, but a necessary one given his condition. His thoughts were cloudy, mind a haze, body running more on reflex than direction. He didn’t care if he found someone young or old, clean or not, he just wanted enough of a hit to get him steady again. But he still had enough wits about him to make sure he kept it away from his home. Even though they already knew, he didn’t want to bring the rest of the world to his doorstep, especially if things went wrong.
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