“Charlie, listen. I need to tell you something,” I said. “I left something out.”
“No,” Charlie said. “Please. Not more.”
“It’s going to come out, and I want you to hear it from me first. It’s about how I met Peter.” I took a breath. I felt a weight shift inside me, the weight of so many years of holding it all in.
“Seventeen years ago, when I was on spring break, I’d been drinking and got behind the wheel, and I accidentally killed a man. Peter was the first cop on scene. He helped me. He got rid of the body.”
“What?” Charlie said.
“Yes, Charlie. That’s how we met. That’s probably why I married him. He protected me from going to jail. I’m just like him, Charlie. Corrupt. You need to stay the hell away from me. Everyone does. My whole life is just one big lie. I guess it always has been.”
Charlie stared at me. He winced, looking away. I could see tears in his eyes, pure hurt. It killed me to see him like that. He opened his mouth to say something, then he closed it again.
“Charlie,” I said, starting to cry myself.
“I’m leaving,” he said a moment later.
And that’s just what he did, without another look back.
Chapter 110
I SOMETIMES have trouble sleeping on planes, but not this time. I slept all the way to Atlanta, and after I switched planes I put my head back and went out like a light switch again. I didn’t wake up until we were touching down in New York.
I was in my apartment an hour later, showered and in my own bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, when my wall phone rang.
Please let it be Charlie, I prayed, answering it.
“I just heard!” my boss, Tom Sidirov, yelled triumphantly. “You pulled it off! You actually saved a guy on death row. Home run! Grand slam! Come in right now. We’ll go to lunch. I need to hear all about it.”
“I’d love to, Tom,” I said. “But I just got off the plane. How about tomorrow? I’m zonked.”
“Of course, of course. Rest up for the TV cameras. I already called the PR guys. The firm’s going to milk this thing for all it’s worth. I’m so proud of you. I’ve been gloating to all the other partners all morning. We’ll do a victory lap tomorrow. I knew you could do this, kid.”
After I hung up, I wondered how jazzed Tom was going to be when he found out that I’d been lying to the firm, that I’d killed a man in a drunk-driving accident and covered it up, and that my name wasn’t Nina Bloom.
Oh, well. I’d find out soon enough.
Then I heard the lobby buzzer in the kitchen.
“Who is it?” I said, pressing the Talk button.
“It’s me, Mom,” said Emma.
“Emma!” I yelled. Well, at least I had someone who’d stand by me.
“Baby, I missed you so much!” I said.
“Mom, c’mon,” Emma said. “Buzz me in already.”
I pressed the Door Open button and unlocked my apartment’s front door before I went back into the bedroom. I was unzipping my suitcase when I noticed the message indicator on my cell. Someone had called while I was in the shower.
“Listen, Nina,” Charlie said, sounding out of breath.
Thank God. Charlie did want to speak to me again.
I heard the front door open.
“Hey, Em!” I called behind me. “Hold on. I’m in the bedroom. I’ll be right there.”
“The FBI tracked Fournier to a hotel room up in Key Largo. When they went to arrest him half an hour ago, they found something horrifying. His wife and two young sons were dead, shot execution-style in the back of the head. Fournier wasn’t there. No one has seen him. They think he’s been gone for at least twenty-four hours. The FBI is putting out an APB on him right now. Whatever you do, don’t go back to your apartment. Call me pronto. I need to know that you’re OK.”
That’s when I heard Emma outside my bedroom door.
“Mom?”
“Em, listen, pack a bag now. I’ll explain to you in a second. I have to—” I started, dialing frantically.
“No, Mom. Whatever it is, it can wait,” Emma said, a strange, angry edge in her voice. “There’s someone I think you should meet.”
“What?” I said.
I turned around. The iPhone spilled out of my trembling fingers and bounced off my glass-and-metal bedside table with a loud crack before somersaulting onto the Oriental carpet and landing facedown.
I shook my head slowly, my unmoving eyes wide, bugging as if they were being pushed out from their sockets.
Emma was in the doorway staring at me.
There was a man behind her wearing a Boston Red Sox baseball cap, an Adidas warm-up jacket, camo pants, and shiny black combat boots.
“Mermaid!” Peter said with a tip of his cap as he stepped into the room.
Chapter 111
“HOW COULD YOU?” Emma cried at me. Her voice was angry, hurt. Her face was damp from crying. She was upset. At me?
“You’ve been lying to me my entire life. How could you be so selfish?” she yelled. She took out a picture of twin boys. “These are my stepbrothers. I do have a family. You’re sick, Mom. You’re a sick person.”
“Emma, please,” I said, my mouth going dry.
“Stop it! Stop lying!” she screamed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that I had a father? That he was alive. I went out to lunch today, and there he was outside of school. Waiting for me. One look in his eyes, and I knew he was my father before he even opened his mouth. There was no Kevin Bloom. What did you do? Hire an actor?”
“Emma, you don’t understand,” I said.
“Yes, I do. Peter told me everything. How you used to be married down in Florida. How you ran away and abandoned him. How could you be so cruel?”
I ignored her. My gaze was on Peter behind her as he put his hand into his pocket.
He produced a large black semiautomatic pistol and waved it at me with a smile. He put it back into his pocket as he placed a shushing finger to his lips.
I cupped my hands over my mouth and nose and shook my head slowly at first but then faster and faster. This couldn’t be happening. Nightmares couldn’t come true.
“Please,” I said to him, finally placing my hands together in a begging gesture. “Peter, she has nothing to do with this.”
His smile never wavered.
Peter suddenly grabbed Emma by the back of her head and rammed her face into a cloth that he took out of his other pocket.
“No!” I screamed, running forward.
“Yes!” Peter screamed back as he kicked me in my stomach with his heavy police tactical boot. Breath whooshed out of me as I was knocked back on my butt to the floor.
Chapter 112
I HELPLESSLY WATCHED EMMA STRUGGLE in Peter’s arms. There was nothing I could do as she glared at me in horror and confusion.
A moment later, her eyes rolled back into her head as she went slack. Peter let her slide onto the hardwood floor in front of me. Her chest was barely moving. She was out cold.
“Much better,” Peter said, taking a roll of duct tape from his jacket pocket. “I thought my boys were annoying. Does she ever shut up?”
He duct-taped my hands behind my back before he dragged me into the living room and handcuffed my ankle to the radiator.
“Nice place, Jeanine,” Peter said, sitting down on the couch across from me. He removed the gun from his jacket and placed it, along with the duct tape, on the cushion beside him before he put his feet up on the coffee table.
“I love all the hardwood. We should have done that picture frame molding in our dining room, don’t you think? What’s this couch? Pottery Barn? I like a lady who treats herself right. What about the modern painting over the fireplace? Let me guess. Crate and Barrel? I mean, how Sex and the City can you get?”