House of Glass

by Sophie Littlefield

  Chapter Fifteen

  He wasn’t dead.

  When Jen wouldn’t stop screaming, Ryan took her upstairs to her bedroom to prove it, Dan trailing behind them. Ted was stretched out on the bed, his feet tied to the footboard with white plastic rope that Jen didn’t recognize. One hand was tied to the headboard, and the other lay awkwardly on the bedcovers, a bloody pulp at the elbow. Bits of bone showed through the torn flesh, and his hand was swollen, twitching and purple. Under his ruined arm, the bed was saturated with blood; more blood crusted his shirt. The stain on the bed was bright at the center, glistening wetly, and Jen imagined the blood seeping through the down blanket and sheets and mattress pad.

  “Jen,” Ted said when he saw her, wincing from the effort.

  “Oh, my God, Ted—” Jen tried to yank herself free from Ryan’s grip, but he held tight.

  “That’s far enough,” Ryan said. “You can see him from here.”

  “Why did you have to shoot him?” She fought Ryan, twisting and trying to get some leverage with her elbows, but he was stronger than he appeared, and he managed to pull her against his chest with her arms behind her back. When he spoke, his breath was hot against her neck. He smelled of sweat and ham and Ted’s cologne.

  “Now look,” he snapped, yanking her arms painfully. “You fight me, shit’s going to happen. That’s what happened to your damn husband. Just calm down or things are going to get a lot worse.”

  “Okay.” She let her arms go limp to show she wouldn’t give him any more trouble. “Can I please just see how bad it is?”

  “You can see from here. It’s just his arm. He’ll live.”

  “I’m all right, Jen,” Ted said, but his voice was weak and thready.

  “Where are the kids? Are they downstairs?”

  “Look, don’t freak.” Ryan tightened his grip again. “It’s Livvy’s fault—she let that damn kid run away. That’s how this whole thing happened.”

  “What do you mean, he ran away? Teddy? Do you mean Teddy?”

  “She was trying to help,” Ted wheezed. “Livvy helped him get out.”

  “Is he okay? Oh, my God, is Teddy okay?”

  “Well, he was when he left here. Look, is he retarded or something?” Ryan said. “Because Livvy said he doesn’t talk. That damn well better be true.”

  “He’s not retarded...he just has a condition. He never talks to anyone outside the family. He won’t say anything.” Jen couldn’t believe all of this was happening, that things had gotten so much worse while she and Dan had been gone. She couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice. “Where did he go? Is Livvy okay?”

  “Livvy’s all right. She’s in the basement,” Ted said. He paused, his face contorted with pain, before continuing. “She...told Teddy to go to the Sterns’.”

  “Christ, Ryan!” Dan exploded. “I can’t believe you.” He turned on Jen. “Who the fuck are the Sterns?”

  “They’re a family from school. Teddy’s best friend. He goes there every Friday for a playdate.” Jen tried to calculate if the truth served her better than a lie. “You should be glad. They would have been suspicious if he didn’t show up.”

  “Jesus!” Dan said. “I told you to leave them in the basement. How hard is that? I’m gone one hour—”

  “You were gone more than an hour,” Ryan said testily. “Everyone was hungry. What was I supposed to do, let them starve?”

  “So you just let them come upstairs and have the run of the place? Did you even stop for one minute and think about the plan?”

  “No, I didn’t let them have the run of the place,” Ryan snapped, mocking Dan with a reedy falsetto. “Livvy had to take her brother to the bathroom and I was getting drinks. She threw a coffeepot at me. I’m supposed to know she’s going to throw a coffeepot at me?”

  “Listen to me,” Dan said, grabbing Ryan’s arm so hard he nearly fell down. For a moment Jen thought Ryan was going to fight back, his eyes sparking dangerously, but he just shook off the older man’s hand. “Go wait for me downstairs. Don’t do one goddamn thing. Just sit there.”

  For a moment they glared at each other, and then Ryan stomped out of the room, muttering. Ted moaned and Jen started to go to him, but Dan grabbed her arm roughly and yanked her back.

  Things were falling apart at a dangerous rate, the potential for things going irrevocably wrong expanding much too fast. Ted looked like he was going to pass out at any moment. Livvy had somehow given Teddy the chance to get away. If he ran to the Sterns’, he’d be safe, but Cricket would wonder why he was by himself, since Jen had never let him walk over alone before. And certainly not without a coat. She was probably calling, even now. If Jen didn’t answer, what would she do? Would she come over?

  Jen forced herself to think it through. If it was her, she’d call Cricket and tell her to call her back as soon as she got the message. And then she’d get the boys settled, and she’d wait. How long? An hour? Two? The Friday playdate frequently turned into dinner and sometimes even a sleepover, if the boys were getting along well.

  Jen felt a tiny, desperate ray of hope. Teddy would be safe at the Sterns’, as long as she could keep Cricket from coming over. “Let me call her,” she said. “Let me tell her to keep him for a sleepover.”

  “I’m supposed to trust you to talk to her?” Dan rubbed his temples as though he had a ferocious headache. “Goddamn it.”

  “I’ll make it quick, I’ll tell her something came up, that Livvy got invited to the city and I have to drive—she won’t think anything of it.”

  “Right, and if he isn’t there? If he didn’t show up? You don’t think your friend’s going to find it a little strange that neither of you know where he is? I’m damn sure not going to have the whole neighborhood looking for him.”

  For a moment nobody spoke. Jen tried to weigh the possibilities. Either Teddy was at the Sterns’, in which case he was safe. Or else he was outside somewhere, in the cold. But someone would see him. There were only so many places he could go, and there were people everywhere. Someone would find him and take care of him. Wouldn’t they?

  “Look.” Dan took a deep breath and let it out, scowling. “Your kid doesn’t talk, right? He’s got some kind of disability?”

  “He has selective mutism. He doesn’t talk to strangers, ever.”

  “What about his friend? His friend’s mom? He wouldn’t talk to them, even if he was upset? Even if they were asking him why the hell he wasn’t wearing a coat?”

  “He only talks to us. Me, Ted, Livvy, that’s all. I swear it.”

  “It’s true,” Ted said, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Doesn’t—talk.”

  Dan raked his hand through his hair, loosing flakes of dandruff that settled on his shoulders, on Ted’s shirt. “You’d better be telling me the goddamn truth. Because if that kid does talk, he’s going to make trouble for all of us. And you aren’t calling anyone. If your friend comes over here, you’re going to answer the door and lie your ass off, and I’ll be standing right next to the door where she can’t see me. You screw up, I’ll shoot her first, and then you. You think I won’t do it, you just test me. Her I can kill. You I keep alive until I get my money.”

  Jen nodded. There were so many ways his plan could go wrong, but she didn’t have anything better. She had to trust that Cricket would take care of Teddy. Maybe Mark answered the door; then Cricket would assume Jen waited in the car to make sure Teddy got in the house before driving off. Mark loved to answer the door, so it seemed entirely possible.

  She just had to have faith that Teddy was safe at the Sterns’. That left Livvy and Ted, who was looking worse by the minute.

  “We’ve got to get Ted help,” Jen implored Dan. “He can’t spend the night like that.”

  “He’s not going anywhere until I get what I came here for. Besides, he has som
e explaining to do. He’d damn well better not pass out before he tells us what happened to the money. Ask him. Go on, ask him, Jen.”

  It took her a second to understand what he meant. The events of the morning seemed impossibly long ago. “He means the account, Ted. Dan took me to the bank to cash out the money market, but most of it was gone. There was a withdrawal, sixty thousand dollars.”

  For a moment Ted didn’t react. Then his face crumpled. “Oh, God, what have I done?”

  So it was true. Jen realized that she had been holding out hope that there was some explanation, some error on the part of the bank, that her husband hadn’t actually secretly done something so monumental.

  What have you done? She wanted to scream it, to launch herself at him. Because it didn’t really matter how it came about, or why, only that Ted had been the one who’d risked their lives, their children’s lives.

  Except that Ted would never intentionally do anything to hurt any of them. And now he was lying in his own blood, his arm mangled, and it was clear that he was desperately remorseful. What good would it do to make it worse? They still had to get through this. It wasn’t over; the bad news kept coming. If they were going to turn this around they would have to work together.

  “Can you get it back?” Dan asked coldly.

  A second shuddering sob racked his body. “No, no...it’s gone. It’s gone.”

  Jen couldn’t bear to watch her husband’s agony. She pulled free of Dan, and he didn’t try to stop her. “Shoot me if you want,” she said. “What’s one more bullet?”

  She went to the bed and sat down on the edge of the soiled mattress, her body tensed in anticipation of a bullet, of Dan’s fist smashing into her, but he didn’t move. Jen touched Ted’s head, stroking his hair, forcing herself to set aside her anger. “It’s all right,” she said. “We’re taking it out of the investment account. We’ll get their money that way. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.”

  “I can’t stand that I’ve done this to you.” Ted tried to sit up, sinking back when pain seized him, making him whimper.

  “Very touching,” Dan snapped. “But the price just went up. You’re going to show me your investments, Jen, and you’re going to transfer every damn penny. You hear me? All of it.”

  “They won’t let me touch the 401(k)s,” she protested. “That would take days. You have to fill out all kinds of forms.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I know you got other accounts. Big fat ones full of rainy-day savings. How much more do you have? And don’t bother lying, unless you want to see what happens when you push me too far.”

  Jen didn’t have to calculate—she knew the sum practically down to the dollar from looking over the end of year statements. “Just over three hundred,” she whispered. “Three eleven.”

  “Three hundred thousand?” Dan whistled. “Holy shit. Holy mother of God shit...” He shook his head slowly. “Well, that puts a new spin on things. Don’t know about you—actually, I do know about you, but my day just got a little brighter.”

  “It’s my fault,” Ted gasped. A smell wafted from him, the smell she’d noticed downstairs. She’d read that blood smelled metallic, but the odor coming off her husband was something else, dirt and fear and chemicals and misery. “This is all my fault.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, her mind already spinning, trying to work through the details of the account transfer.

  “She’s right, buddy. It doesn’t matter, long as we get paid. But listen, just for kicks, I know I’m dying to know—what did you do with the cash?”

  Ted closed his eyes, and his head lolled back against the pillows.

  And Jen wondered if she really wanted to know. He looked so vulnerable, so damaged. She had no idea how badly injured his arm was. No matter what happened, he had paid heavily for whatever he had done. She stroked his face and tried to communicate forgiveness through her touch.

  But Dan grabbed Ted’s foot, still clad in one of the old running shoes he wore for working on the house, and shook it. “Hey. I asked you a question.”

  When Ted only moaned, Dan took hold of the hand of his wounded arm and gave it a shove. Not hard—but it was enough: Ted screamed and blood seeped from the wound. Jen grabbed Dan’s arm, trying to tear him away from her husband. He shoved her hard enough to send her crashing into the corner of the dresser, the edge connecting painfully with her hip.

  “Now,” Dan said, all traces of amusement gone from his voice. “Tell us what you did with the money.”

  Ted’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and he looked at Jen as he spoke, his voice breaking. “I’ve done something really bad. I wanted...I’ve been trying to make it right, and I’ve only made it worse. I...”

  “It’s all right,” Jen said, easing back down next to him on the bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She stroked the hair away from his eyes. “Whatever it is, it’s all right.”

  But even as she spoke the words of forgiveness, Jen’s dread grew. What if the truth was too big? Too much? What if she couldn’t forgive him?

  “I started gambling again.” He stumbled over the words, as if he could read her thoughts and wanted to get the truth out before she changed her mind. “After I got laid off. Just the track, at first. Just a few times, with some guys from business school.”

  Jen tried to wrap her mind around what he was telling her. Gambling. Sure, he and his friends from the old days used to go to the track sometimes, but it didn’t mean anything. It was supposed to be ironic, like the cigars and bourbon and the dinners at the Palm...wasn’t it? And he hadn’t mentioned his old friends in a long time. He barely saw them since they’d moved to the suburbs.

  “We went out.... I told you about it, after I got laid off. Remember? And then a couple of the other guys got laid off, too, and we started betting on the games. It was supposed to be a joke. You know, little bets, fifty bucks, we said if any of us won we’d buy rounds for all the poor slobs who were out of a job. I didn’t tell you about it because...well, because it seemed sort of pathetic.” He swallowed and looked away.

  Jen thought of all the nights Ted said he was going to the city for networking events, coming home late after he said he had a drink with some potential employer or fellow job searcher. She’d been naive enough to believe him, because she wanted so badly for him to be looking for work.

  And all along, he’d already given up.

  “Then what?”

  Ted swallowed. “I lost a few thousand—from what Uncle Gar left us, not our savings. And I kept almost winning it back and then some. I’d get so close... Then I placed a big bet on a Lakers game. It should have been a sure thing. I mean, I put everything on it. I could have made up the gap and more. And then I was going to quit. It was going to be the last time, I swear it to you.”

  Dan snorted. “If I had a nickel...”

  “When the Raptors won, I...I couldn’t believe it,” Ted continued. “I’d taken a loan to buy in, and I told the guy I just need a couple days to get the cash. But he wouldn’t give it to me. He...” His face contorted in agony and Jen put her hand on his cheek, gently turning his head toward her.

  “Look at me, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Just look at me. Right here.”

  “He emailed me Sunday night,” Ted said, making no effort to stop the tears that spilled down his cheeks. “He’d found me on Facebook. He had pictures of the kids, Jen. Livvy in her soccer uniform, and Teddy at the pool at the club. He didn’t come out and say he was going to hurt them, but the threat was there. I was desperate. I got him the money on Monday. And, Jen...not that it matters now, not that you’ll ever believe me—Christ, I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I won’t ever, I wouldn’t ever—”

  Jen brushed away his tears with her fingertips. “It’s done, it’s over. It’s all right.”

  “
And that, folks, is how to really fuck up your life in three easy steps,” Dan said, almost jovially. “Well, I guess that about does it. No further questions for the witness. Come on, Jen, let’s get those accounts cleaned out.”

  “I forgive you,” Jen said quietly, ignoring Dan and digging deep for every scrap of love she’d ever had for her husband, and there was more than enough. So much more than enough. How could she have doubted him? Ted had made a mistake—a terrible one. But he’d never stopped thinking of his family, and she should have always known that. “Do you hear me, Ted? You need to know this. I love you. I love you, and I’ll never stop. Tell me you understand.”

  “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said hoarsely.

  “You have it. You have me. Just focus on staying strong. We will get out of this.”

  “Jesus, what is this?” Dan demanded. “The fucking Hallmark channel?”

  As Dan grabbed Jen’s arm and marched her out of the bedroom, she realized there was one question Ted hadn’t answered.

  She still didn’t know where he’d been all day yesterday.

  * * *

  The funds transfers went without a hitch. When the call was over, Dan took her back to the basement.

  She rushed down the stairs. Livvy had been huddled on the couch under a quilt, but she jumped up as soon as the door opened. “Where’ve you been?” she demanded, and then they were hugging, holding on hard. Jen held Livvy, swaying gently and murmuring that it would be all right, until she finally relaxed a little.

  They sat back down on the couch, and Livvy haltingly gave her an account of what had happened. Jen could tell that she had been crying, her hair straggly and knotted, her eyes red.

  “I just thought if he went to the Sterns’, at least we would know he was safe. He’ll know how to get to their house, won’t he?”