Текст книги "Vindicate"

Автор книги: Beth Yarnall

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Chapter 32 Leo

Dad’s right. If we’re talking about a cop murdering Cassandra we’re in way over our heads here. How am I going to protect Cora from a professional? I can’t show it, but I’m scared shitless. This guy has gone to great lengths to stop our investigation. He’s a murderer, for fuck’s sake. If he finds out we’re onto him, really onto him, there’s no telling what he’ll do. We’re just going to have to lay low until Dad and his attorney friends can work their magic.

I think Mrs. Wheeler’s notebook might have given us even more than I originally thought. The first time the license plate appears in Mrs. Wheeler’s notebook could provide us with the date Cassandra initially called the police about the strange things happening around her apartment building. I don’t think I was far off when I told Cora that I think this whole thing started with that call for help.

The cop who killed her must’ve been the one to respond to it. I’m guessing by his subsequent visits to her apartment that he gave Cassandra his business card to call him directly if there was any more trouble. Just like I called it—Hero Syndrome. The more problems Cassandra had, the more reasons she had to call him. He created her need for him to come to the rescue. According to Mrs. Wheeler’s notebook, he created that need more than ten times in a two-month period. That’s more than once a week.

Cassandra’s phone records would show her calling the cop’s number. That would’ve come out in the investigation. He had to have known that. How did he get around it? A burner phone, maybe? He could’ve written his burner cellphone number on his business card when he gave it to Cassandra. My private line. Special for only you. If you need me I’ll be here in a flash. Call me. Anytime.

I can see it. He thought he was smart using the burner phone. He didn’t count on Mrs. Wheeler’s notebooks. She was smart not to tell him. It probably saved her life. She puts him at Cassandra’s apartment too many times to excuse away. The unidentified hair in Cassandra’s bed must be from him. He lucked out there. They never ran it for a DNA match, but when they do it will put him in her bed. He could claim they had a romantic relationship. Who’s alive to say they didn’t?

It would cause a lot of problems for him though. Especially with the hidden witness interview. At the very least, it could create reasonable doubt for Beau. The cop is another potential suspect who was never interviewed. A suspect who tampered with the case. That alone could cast enough suspicion to reopen the case against Beau.

We’ve got all the pieces. We just need to reveal the final player.

We grab some food at a drive-through restaurant and head for my friend Mike’s place. He was cool to let us stay here for as long as we need to. That need is greater than ever. With his state-of-the-art security system, it’s the safest place we could be.

Cora’s been very quiet since we talked to my dad. I wonder what she’s thinking. I imagine a lot of the same things that have been going through my head. It’s weird to be at a complete standstill. There’s nothing to do but wait. Everyone’s been found who needed to be found. We’ve pulled all the threads we can pull in the case. It’s now up to my dad to do what he did for Maurice Battle—contact the legal group that works on cases like Beau’s. It’s now in the hands of lawyers.

It feels strange to me to be in waiting mode. I can’t imagine what it must be like for Cora. I want to fast-forward to the day Beau gets released from prison, not just for Beau and Cora, but for me too. Because on the day he’s free she’ll be free too. And then maybe, just maybe, she’ll give us a chance.

“How long did it take?” she asks, as we go through the front door of Mike’s place.

I turn off, then reset the security system. “How long did what take?”

“To free Maurice Battle.”

“Longer than you’d think. Too long. Nearly six months.”

This information does nothing to cheer her. It does even less for me. I don’t have six months with Cora. I don’t even have one month.

“That’s not fair.” She’s looking out the window when she says this.

“No. It’s not fucking fair at all.”

I want to go up behind her and put my arms around her, but I know if I do I won’t be able to stop at just a simple hug. I need more from her than she’s got to give. And I have nothing that she needs anymore. I can feel the lengthening between us. It started in Mrs. Wheeler’s room. Maybe even before that. I don’t know. All I know is that I’m desperately, hopelessly, in love with her. It hurts. No one tells you that.

In the movies it looks so easy. In two hours a couple meets, falls in love, encounters problems, someone makes a grand gesture, then BAM, happily ever after. I don’t have a grand gesture. I don’t have anything she wants or needs. The one thing I had to give her I’ve already given her—the leads and connections to free Beau. It’s so fucked up that I—of all people—couldn’t give her the only other thing she wanted—sex. What’s wrong with me? Even now I want her so badly I practically vibrate with it. But I know if I touch her I’ll only disappoint her. Again. It’s all just so fucking fucked up.

“That’s another one hundred and fifty-two days,” she says.

She did the math. Of course she did. I don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism or an obsession. Either way, I feel the anguish and anger she’ll endure in every single one of those days. And that’s if we’re lucky. It could take longer. It could not happen at all. What then? What if Beau is never freed?

“Two thousand two hundred and forty-one days altogether,” she intones, like some fucking electronic clock.

I can barely see her through the rage that hits me out of no-fucking-where. “How many hours is that? How many minutes? Seconds? Nanoseconds?”

“Why are your mocking me?”

“I’m not mocking you. I want to know. I want to know how deep it goes. Come on. How many hours?”

“I don’t know.”

“Need a calculator?” I pull out my cellphone, punch up the calculator setting, and hold it out to her. “Go on.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’ll do it for you.” I jab my finger at the buttons. “Two thousand two hundred and forty-one times twenty-four. That’s fifty-three thousand, seven hundred eighty-four hours.” I hold it up for her to see. “That’s sounds a lot worse than two thousand and some odd days, doesn’t it?”

“Stop it.”

I can’t stop. “There are sixty minutes in an hour.” I punch the clear button. “If we times twenty-four by sixty that’s one thousand four hundred forty minutes in a day. Times that by your two thousand two hundred forty-one and it equals…” I’m out of control. I know I’m out of control, but I can’t stop. “Holy fuck. Three million two hundred twenty-seven thousand and forty minutes.”

“Stop.”

“Three million is fucking dramatic, isn’t it? You should count the motherfucking minutes, not the days. People will really feel sorry for you then.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with me. What’s wrong with you, Cora?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m helping you. It’s what I do. I help you. That’s all I do, all I’m good for.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

I stalk toward her. “Don’t you?”

Watching me with wide eyes, she shakes her head.

“I want you to care about me half as much as you care about counting the days, Cora. I want to mean more to you than how much longer it’s going to be before you can resume your life. I want you to resume your life right now, no waiting to see what happens with Beau. Because you know what? At some point counting the days has to end. You can’t keep going on like this. If you won’t do it for me, do it for yourself. Hell, do it for Beau. He practically begged you to so many times. And I know you’d do anything for him. Do this. Do this one thing. Have a life.”

“I have a life.”

“No. You don’t.”

“What do you know about having a life, having responsibilities? I’m all Beau has. I’m it. If I leave him, he’s got no one.”

“There are no absolutes here. You can have a life and still be a good sister.”

“You want me to pick you over Beau.”

“You can have us both.”

“No, I can’t! I can’t move on like everyone else has and leave him behind. I won’t do it. I’m all he’s got.” She defiantly swipes at a tear that dares to fall.

She’s broken. I’m broken. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t have a chance with her. I never did. But there’s one undeniable fact that neither one of us can ignore.

“I love you,” I say simply. “I’m not saying it because I’m losing you. I can’t lose what I never had. I’m saying it because it’s true.”

She takes in a rough breath. She’s a fighter, my Bluebird. A fighter right up until the end. And this is it. The end. The end of us and whatever we might have been. The end of her needing my help. And the end of me fighting an unwinnable battle.

I let her go and walk away.

Chapter 33 Cora

He doesn’t slam the bedroom door. No, he closes it softly. The sound of it is so quiet, nearly inaudible, but it echoes in my head like a gunshot, jolting my body as if I’ve been hit. His words rip through me, exposing the cracks in my defenses.

He doesn’t love me. He can’t. That’s not what was supposed to happen here. He wasn’t supposed to make me want things I can’t have. He wasn’t supposed to make me want to follow him and slam the door behind me and make him feel what he’s making me feel right now. I choke back a sob. And he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to lay down that ultimatum.

I can’t abandon Beau now. There’s too much on the line. I’m too close. I can almost see him the way he used to be. I can see the days he’s been in prison falling off him like leaves on a tree, revealing the old Beau one by one. Two thousand and eighty-nine days, counting today. Leo mocked me for keeping track, but he doesn’t understand. No one understands. No one but Beau. I count them because Beau does. It’s the only thing we can still do together.

I discovered it early during one of my first visits with him at Chino Men’s. He threw it out there—The Number. Sixty-three. He said, “I’ve been here for sixty-three days, but it feels like forever.” He was right. It did feel like forever. It was forever. More than two thousand days later, I’ve learned the hard meaning of forever and what failure really is. Because I’m not just counting the days, I’m counting the ways I failed him. Every day a new way. I can’t turn my back on him. And I can’t move on until Beau can move on too.

I don’t look at the bedroom door as I pass. I don’t glance back at it when I go in to feed and take care of Oliver. If I see it I’ll want to go through it, and I don’t know what I’ll find on the other side. More than that, I don’t know what I’ll do if I cross over the threshold. I might decide to be selfish and choose him over Beau. If I go after him I might give up on someone who everyone has given up on and left behind. I can’t do that. I can’t look at that door.

Oliver lives in a cat’s paradise here and I live in a perverted sort of hell. He looks at me just like he always does, with a mixture of tolerance and loathing. He hasn’t been the same since Cassandra died. None of us have. Does she know? Can she see what we’ve all become? What would she say?

I’m not just fighting for Beau. I’m fighting for Cassandra too. She’s been gone more days than Beau’s been in prison. I can’t give Cassandra her life back. I can only give her justice. And take care of Oliver as best as he’ll let me.

I put a hand out to pet him. He doesn’t move away, so I touch him lightly, stroking from his head to his tail. He head-butts my wrist. I pet him again. We do this two more times and then he walks away. He’ll only let me in so far and not an inch further. I get the parallels between us. The irony isn’t lost on me.

I leave Oliver and go into the spare bedroom. This time last night I climbed into bed next to Leo. Tonight I’ll sleep alone. It’s better I make the transition sooner rather than later. Before I get used to it and can’t sleep without him.

I tell myself this and other lies over and over for the next couple hours. It’s because the sheets still smell like him. I’m not used to sleeping in such a large bed. This isn’t my house. I’m not used to the sounds it makes. The bed’s colder because we’re closer to the ocean. I’m anxious about Beau’s case. I’m lost because there’s nothing to do but wait.

–

I wake up in the morning rusty-eyed, with a headache. The sun is barely over the horizon. I throw on a sweatshirt and go in search of something hot to drink to soothe my aching throat. There’s a box of doughnuts on the counter and a take-out coffee cup. Leo must’ve gotten up early too. I lean over the cup and inhale. Earl Grey. Damn his thoughtfulness.

“You’re up.”

He looks as bad as I feel. I can only imagine what I look like.

“Thanks for the tea. You didn’t have to.”

“Habit, I guess.” He shrugs and takes a sip from the cup in his hand. “My dad called. He has some news for us. He’s on his way over.”

“Okay.”

There’s a knock at the door. Leo goes to answer it. I don’t know what to do with myself. This is so much more awkward than I imagined it would be. I want to say something to Leo, but there’s nothing really to say.

Mr. Nash comes in looking like he had almost the same night we did. The look on his face when his gaze swings to mine makes my stomach do a painful swoop. “You’re going to want to sit down for this.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “What happened? Is Beau okay?”

Leo pulls out a stool for me. He doesn’t put his hand in mine like he usually would to reassure me. Instead, he moves to the other side of the counter and leans against it.

“It’s not about Beau,” Mr. Nash says. “It’s about Mrs. Wheeler.”

Leo comes off the counter. “What about her?”

“Someone broke into the retirement home she lives in last night. The guy knew exactly which room was hers. He used a pillow to try to kill her. She managed to get to her call button and the nursing staff came in and interrupted the attack.”

“Oh, my God,” I gasp. “Is she okay?”

“Fortunately, she was moved to another room earlier that day. The woman in her old bed has some bruising, but she’ll be fine.”

Because of Leo. He had her moved to a room with a window. She could’ve been hurt or worse.

“He followed us,” Leo says. “He saw exactly which room we went into. Son of a bitch.”

“It’s not your fault, son. This guy’s a pro.”

“Did they catch him?” I ask.

“No. He got away. But they got his license plate.”

“Let me guess,” Leo says. “California license plate number 6TPW001.”

Mr. Nash nods. “The very one.”

I leap off the stool. “Who owns that car?” I have to know his name.

“Detective Paul Winfro.” Mr. Nash sets a file on the counter and opens it.

Leo and I both lean in for a closer look. Our gazes collide.

“Oh, my God,” I breathe.

“He’s one of the officers who showed up when your apartment got broken into.”

“And at Taco Mia.”

“And I bet that license plate goes to the black Mustang that followed me to Zelda’s house. He’s been fucking with us this whole time.”

“As far as I know he hasn’t crossed the border back into the states. Border Patrol has his info. If he tries to get back into the country he’ll be arrested on the spot.” Mr. Nash looks at his watch. “I’ve got an appointment in an hour with the Project Freedom attorneys to see if they’ll take on your brother’s case. I think with this new information combined with Mrs. Wheeler’s testimony we’ll have enough to bring Beau’s case to a judge for review. In the meantime, you two stay together and stay safe. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

“Thank you.”

I’m too stunned to move. I can only stare at the photo of the man who killed Cassandra and destroyed my brother’s life. He doesn’t look like a monster. There’s no obvious sign of what he’s capable of. I can see why Cassandra trusted him and why he didn’t send up any red flags for anyone who knew him.

Leo comes back from walking his dad to the door. “You okay?”

“Yes. And no. I don’t know what I am.”

He picks up the photo. “He looks so normal. But then they say that about most killers.”

“You saved Mrs. Wheeler.”

He lifts a shoulder.

“You did. Getting her that room to make her happy saved her. You’re a hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero.”

“You are.”

He makes a face and sets the photo on the counter. “How does it feel to have a name and a face for your nightmare?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” I drop back onto the stool. I don’t know what I expected to feel, but this empty kind of numb nothing isn’t it. I should be angry or sad or, I don’t know…Anything except this hollowness. Where’s the hate? I thought I’d at least feel hatred toward the man who destroyed so many lives.

“Maybe it will come to you later. I’m glad you finally know who was behind all this and that Beau will likely get his day in court. You’ve worked really hard. It’s nice that it’s paid off for both of you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I guess. I can’t even drum up any happiness.

“I’m going to take a quick shower.”

“Yeah, okay.” I take a sip of tea and turn the photo toward me. I can’t stop staring at that face. I don’t know what I expect it to tell me.

Why? I just want to know why? Why did he kill Cassandra? What did she do to deserve the cruel, inhumane things he did to her? How could he live with himself after doing that to her? And that poor woman in Mrs. Wheeler’s room. If Leo hadn’t moved her I don’t know that she could’ve fought him off the way the other woman did. Leo saved her life. He doesn’t think of himself as a hero, but he is.

I wouldn’t have thought he was capable of it when I first met him. I really didn’t think much of him at all other than his being the owner’s son. He’s so much more than the lazy skater dude I first took him for. So much more.

Chapter 34 Leo

I’m dying. I have to be. There’s no way anyone could survive this. Except Cora. She seems to be totally fine.

That’s not true. She looks like hell. Beautiful to me still, but she looks like she didn’t get any more sleep than I did.

And she cried. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. It guts me to see her like that. I wanted so badly to put my arms around her and hold her. But if I touch her I know I’ll only end up dropping to my knees and begging her to love me back. Pathetic. I’m fucking pathetic. I can’t believe I held it together as long as I did. I couldn’t wait for my dad to leave so I could get the hell out of there. Being near her and not touching her, holding her, kissing her, fucking hurts.

I put on some swim trunks and find a beach towel. It’s still summer and I haven’t been to the beach once. Maybe a swim will help put things in some kind of perspective. Or at least give me something else to think about.

I find Cora sitting on the stool in the kitchen, staring at the photo my dad brought. How long has she been sitting there like that? She looks almost as miserable as I am. I fight the urge to go to her. Instead, I stay on the other side of the room, out of reach.

“I’m going for a swim,” I tell her.

She glances up. Her eyes take on that look and it’s not fucking fair. She doesn’t get to look at me like she wants me when I know she doesn’t.

“Wait,” she says. “I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not.” She looks hurt. I tell myself I don’t care.

“I’ll be right out there.” I hold up my cell. “Call me if anything happens.”

I go out the back door and jog down to the water. I don’t stop, dropping my towel-wrapped phone on the sand, and run right into the water. It’s colder than I expected, making me lose my breath. I swim until my heart is pounding and I’m almost too tired to drag myself out of the water. When I do, I find Cora standing next to my towel, her arms wrapped around her.

The breeze lifts the black and neon-blue strands of her hair. Her bare feet are dug into the sand so far it looks like she doesn’t have any. She stares at me, daring me. Her eyes are brighter in the late-afternoon sun. I’m out of breath from more than my swim. I stop when she’s still out of reach. Everything about her is defiant, from her gaze to her stance to the tilt of her head.

“I love you too.”

Her words are a sucker punch to the gut. I now get what she was saying that day in our office when I first tried to tell her I love her. The falseness of it is insulting. It hurts more than if she hadn’t said anything at all.

“You’re only saying that because you’re losing me.”

Me throwing her words back at her surprises her. I remember that feeling too, being shocked into examining everything about yourself. Are the feelings even real or am I saying them only because I’m afraid, and does my being afraid make them real? It’s a puzzle I turned over and over in my head until I wasn’t sure of anything at all. The arrogance gets swept away and you’re left feeling more uncertain and vulnerable than at any other moment in your life.

And then when you realize you mean it, that you’re in love, well, then it’s too late. There’s no fucking going back from that or the realization that you’re in it alone.

“Don’t deny it,” I tell her. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I’m not.”

“Stop it, Cora.”

She takes a step toward me, making me move back. She tries again. I back away again.

“Listen to me, Leo. I didn’t get it. I didn’t.”

“And you suddenly do now?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you. What about Beau?”

Her gaze shifts away.

“So you’re telling me this as what? A parting gift? No, thanks.” I storm past her, scooping up my towel on my way back to the house.

My phone rings. It’s my dad.

“Hello?”

“They got him!” He’s out of breath and excited. “They got him trying to get back across the border.”

I stop just inside the back door of the house. “And they arrested him?”

“The Mexican police have him, but yes, he’s been arrested.”

Cora touches my arm, making me turn. “They got Winfro?”

Looking down at her hand on me, I nod. I didn’t know a touch so soft could be so excruciating. I shift, causing her hand to slide away.

“They got him,” I tell her.

Her hands go to her mouth. Above them, her eyes are big and watery.

“Tell Cora I have some more good news. I’m on my way over now. You guys did it. You did it.” He ends the call.

“He’s on his way over. He says he has more news.”

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they got him. I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower before my dad gets here.” I start forward, then turn back. “I’m glad they got him.”

“Thanks. For everything. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

I nod and turn away. I can hardly look at her anymore, let alone be in the same room with her.

The shower does nothing to change my mood. My dad’s already there when I come out. He’s sitting on the couch in the living room with Cora. The bright orange sun hangs high over the water, the brightness of it nearly blinding. I drop down into a chair on the other side of the room from Cora. My dad takes notice and looks like he’s going to say something, then shakes his head. I try not to look as miserable as I feel.

“What’s your news?” I ask him.

“As you know, I had an appointment with the Freedom Project people. I brought them your notes and those photos you sent me of Mrs. Wheeler’s notebook. They’re taking Beau’s case. While I was there they had a conference call with a retired judge they’ve worked with before to get his take on it. Nothing’s for sure, but they’re pretty confident they can get his conviction overturned. It’ll take some time. The wheels of justice move at the speed of frozen molasses.

“You kids did amazing work on this case. Seriously, some of the best investigative work I’ve ever seen. Leo knows he’s got a place at the agency if he wants one. Although I’m pretty sure that’s not where his heart lies. As for you, Cora, I’d like to offer you a job. From the first moment I met you, you’ve constantly surprised and amazed me. You’re a natural at this. One of the best I’ve ever seen. I know guys who are twice your age and half as skilled. What do you say?”

Cora’s mouth opens and closes. She looks to me and I nod in encouragement. My dad’s right. She is a natural. She’d be a great asset to the agency.

“Can I think about it?” she asks.

“Sure. It’ll take some time to get a new office set up. Let me know when you decide.” Dad stands to go.

“Thank you.” Cora leaps up and throws her arms around Dad. “For everything. You’ve given me so much more than I can ever repay. Thank you for taking a chance on me. And Beau. If he were here, he’d shake your hand.” She releases him and wipes away a tear. “Thank you.”

Dad clears his throat. “You’re welcome.”

I walk him to the door.

“You okay?” he asks.

“No, but I’ll live.”

“I take it things didn’t work out between the two of you.”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sorry. She’s…one of a kind. I liked the way she didn’t put up with your bullshit.”

“I did too.”

I close the door after him. There’s only one more goodbye to make. And it’s the hardest I’ll ever have to endure. How do you say goodbye to someone who changed your life? How do you go and leave a piece of yourself behind?