Chapter Fifty-Four
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Lincoln / Present
T he good doctor watches me as I clench my fists together and grind down on my teeth.
“What happened then, Lincoln?” she asks softly.
I shake my head, feeling the burn of bitter emotions rise up my throat. “You know what happened. Don’t make me relive that day.”
Don’t go.
When Georgia showed up the next day with that goddamn bottle of Johnnie Walker and offered me her body, I should have gone alone.
At least Conklin would still be alive.
Theresa Castro walks over to me and sits on the edge of the cushion beside me. “Jakob Volley was the one who made the decision to pull the trigger that day. It could have been anyone on the other side of that door.”
It could have been.
But it wasn’t.
She reaches out, her touch startling me when her hand lands on my tense forearm. “What makes you so sure that those bullets were meant for you?”
Swallowing, I stare at her palm. “Because he told me when I visited him in prison. Right before he was killed for talking. Just like Conklin was killed. Just like the others were.” When I lift my gaze, there’s a hollowness inside of me that drains every ounce of energy I have left. “I have a body count attached to me all because I wanted to help a girl in need. They’re all dead because of me .”
She shakes her head. “It wasn’t you who killed them.”
That doesn’t matter. “It might as well have been, doc. You said it yourself. We all make decisions that lead us here. Mine painted targets on their backs in bright red fucking paint.”
Removing her hand, she settles it into her lap and watches me. “The reason I wasn’t home to see my husband off for his trip was because we’d gotten into a petty fight the night before. I stayed at a friend’s house instead of talking to him about why I was upset. I ignored his calls. I ignored his texts. I didn’t tell him to drive safely or that I loved him. For a very long time, I blamed myself for the accident. I may not have been the person who got behind the wheel drunk, but I know he was distracted because of me.”
I know what she’s trying to do, but it won’t work. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” she questions. “When the officers discovered him, his phone was still open with a half-written message to me on the screen. The person who struck him had a blood alcohol level twice the legal limit, so he was found completely at fault and survived to face the consequences of the life he took. And I’m sure he still feels that weight every single day. But I know my husband wouldn’t have been so distracted if I’d just talked to him after the fight. If I’d picked up my phone the first time he called. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe he wouldn’t have been texting me. So, tell me, Lincoln. How is me holding on to that blame any different than you?”
I try to come up with a million reasons why it’s different, but nothing sticks. Because I know she’s right. She’s right, and I hate it.
Blaming myself has always been easier.
It’s put a face to the consequence.
Reminds me why it’s important to fix it.
To find justice.
Because I survived, and I’m the only one who can. Not Conklin. Not anybody else. Me.
Don’t go.
All I can do is swallow the words that wouldn’t have been the truth.
Theresa stands, walking over to her notepad and writing something down on the front. When she comes back over, she extends a paper out to me and waits until I take it.
When I look at the signature at the bottom of the release form that clears me for duty, my eyebrows pinch. “Why are you giving this to me now?”
“Because you’re ready.”
“It’s not like I’m going back to work,” I point out, staring at the pristine signature written in fresh black ink. “I don’t know why this matters now.”
The good doctor asks, “How do you feel when you walk out of these sessions?”
I hesitate only a moment, thinking about what my father said about me. “Lighter.”
“You didn’t have to keep coming,” she points out gently. “When you chose to take the early retirement, you could have called and told me you were ending our sessions. But you didn’t. You wanted to lift the burden off your shoulders. Maybe subconsciously, you needed to know that this wasn’t your fault. That’s why this matters. If it didn’t, you would have given up long before now.”
Dammit. I stare down at the paper before glancing up at her.
Her smile is soft. Warm. “What are you going to do now?”
Now? I slowly shake my head. “I don’t know,” I admit, feeling a lump stick to the back of my throat. “One of my buddies mentioned having a spot for me at his security business. I’ve considered it. But I think I’ll take some time off for a while. After things…settle.”
Things .
She knows what I’m talking about.
She read the paper.
Sticking her hand out, I follow it up to her face and watch as she waits for me to shake it. “I think taking time off is a wonderful idea. It’ll give you a fresh perspective.”
All I can do is nod as I take her hand and squeeze it once.
When I stand, I look down at her. “Do you think you’ll move on from your husband?”
Her hand twitches in mine. “One day. Yes.”
“You deserve that.”
“You do as well, Mr. Danforth.”
My lips twitch at the formality that draws a line between us again. “I suppose asking you out for appreciation coffee would be frowned upon even after our sessions end then?”
Slipping her hand out from mine, her smile grows as she steps back. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”
That’s not a yes.
But it’s not a no, either.
“I hope you get everything you’re looking for in life,” she says as she opens the door for me. “I truly believe that you deserve it.”
It’s a goodbye if I ever heard one.
I stop as soon as I step into the hall. “If you ever decide to take me up on that coffee, you have my number.”
I know she won’t use it even before she says, “Goodbye, Lincoln.”
As I stare at the paper in my hand when the door closes behind me, it feels like I can breathe for the first time in a long time.
*
Beaugard steps onto the screen in front of the podium lined with microphones, quieting the station from its mindless chatter. “I want to thank everyone for coming. As of today, the New York State Police, in partnership with the FBI, would like to announce the arrest of Nikolas Del Rossi of Middle Point for the following charges: criminal possession of a forged instrument, unlawfully concealing a will, false impersonation, and forgery in the first degree. Del Rossi is also being charged for criminal possession of a controlled substance in the seventh degree after agents located cocaine during their search. At this time, this is an ongoing investigation. When we have more information, we’ll be sharing it with the public.”
The questions start from the reporters attending the press conference, but I tune them out, settling into my chair.
“You should get a dog,” my sister announces, popping another chip in her mouth as my mother tidies up the living room, even though I told her not to.
If she’s trying to lighten the mood from the interview happening on the TV, I welcome it. “I don’t know about that.”
“You’ve always wanted a dog.”
“Dogs take time.”
Hannah snorts. “What else are you doing with your life right now? You’re divorced and jobless.”
“Hannah!” our mother scolds.
I snort. “I’m divorced and retired .”
“And your ex-wife is apparently from an even more fucked-up family than ours,” she notes, pointing her Dorito toward the screen almost as if she’s impressed. “I knew something was going on that you weren’t saying, but I didn’t think it’d be her father being arrested for all of that .”
Mom sighs. “Can you please clean up your language. It’s unladylike to swear.”
Since when has that ever stopped her? “Ma, your favorite word was shit for yeas.”
She stops dusting the shelf with old pictures I should really take down to glare at me. “Yes, because you and your sister were little shits growing up.”
Hannah and I start laughing.
She lets that go. “I can see why Georgia was estranged from her family if the FBI have been involved in whatever mess her father is tied to.”
I don’t enlighten her on anything I know. The less she knows, the better. “I wouldn’t feel too sorry for her. She’s clearly still supporting him.”
A frown wrinkles the edges of her mouth. “I don’t even know what I’d do in that situation.”
Hannah throws a chip at her. “You could support your son, for starters.”
Mom shoots her a look. “Hannah Marie! I just vacuumed the floor!”
“If Lincoln had a dog, it’d clean that up,” she defends, popping another chip in her mouth and getting crumbs on herself.
“I’m not getting a dog,” I tell her.
Mom picks the chip up. “I always support your brother. But I can’t help but feel for Georgia a little. She obviously wants what’s best for her father. I would hate to be put in a position where I had to choose. Family is important, and she was split between the one she was born into and the one she married. That couldn’t have been easy.”
My lips twitch. “It should have been.”
Sympathy coats her face. “Life rarely has choices that are easy to make, sweetie. That’s all I’m saying.”
We fall to silence as Beaugard ends the press conference by telling the media that he’ll keep them updated on new charges as they come. Which means they must have gotten a lot from their warrant. I make a mental note to show up at the station with his favorite donut and a coffee to see if he’ll tell me anything.
It’s doubtful, but worth a shot.
“You should get an English bulldog,” Hannah pipes up. “I’ve always wanted one of those. A girl named Frankie.”
“I’m not getting a fucking bulldog. If you want one so badly, you get one.”
“Mom and Dad won’t let me get a dog.”
“Then get your own place.”
She frowns. “Forget a dog. You should get laid so you’re not such a grump.”
Our mother groans. “Little shits,” she repeats, walking out of the room and plugging her ears. “I guess that’ll never change.”
Snorting, I lean back in the armchair. “I’m not trying to be a dick. Eventually, you’ll want your own place after you graduate.”
“In three years.”
“Three years go by quickly.”
She frowns.
I can tell she’s nervous. “You’ll figure it out.”
She’s contemplative, staring into her bag of Doritos that she stole from my snack cupboard. It doesn’t take her long to snap out of it. “Mom isn’t totally wrong, you know.”
My brows pinch. “About what?”
“I may not know Georgia as well as you, but she never came off as a malicious person. I’m not saying take her back or anything. We all want you to be happy and move on with your life. But maybe this”—she gestures toward the TV—“is the chance for you to close that chapter of your life once and for all. I know you care about her enough to make sure her father can’t do anything, but she’s not your responsibility anymore.”
So, she feels bad for Georgia too.
I guess my ex-wife had a lot of people fooled.
Me most of all.
“I heard Opal is single.” She starts laughing when I shoot her a glare.
“You and Mom are relentless.”
She throws a chip at me. “Opal wouldn’t be dumb enough to date you anyway.”
I roll my eyes. “Like you’re any better. When was the last time you even talked to the opposite sex that you weren’t related to?”
She goes to answer, then stops herself.
I give her a pointed look. “Maybe we’re both doomed.” I eat the chip she threw at me.
All Hannah says is, “I hope Mom and Dad will be okay with four-legged fur grandchildren then. Because we’re both going to be disappointments otherwise.”
My eyes go down to a text from Beaugard asking if I want to meet up with him for lunch tomorrow.
Shooting him a text back instantly, I stand up and snatch the bag of snacks from my sister before she can finish the bag. “You’re young. There’s hope for you.”
“And not you?”
I shrug. “I think that boat sailed, sis.”
“You’ve always been a good swimmer.”
I roll my bad shoulder, feeling the twinge of pain in it. “Not anymore.”