Deceptions
Page 62
“I thought it was noon.”
“They moved it up, which may have something to do with you being camped out in their waiting room. I appreciate that, but you should go now. There’s no way we can meet before the arraignment.”
“Pamela,” I blurted. “When I was there yesterday morning, she said she knew you’d killed James. Someone had told her—one of the Cwn Annwn, I think.”
“Whatever Pamela said, I did not—”
“I know. But that’s why I froze up when they arrested you. Because I hadn’t warned you about what she’d said.”
“Ah.”
“I know you don’t have much time, so if you have anything important you need to say, cut me off, but I want to say that I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to give it any credence. If I’d thought, for one second, that you might actually be arrested—”
“It’s all right. It helps to know where to begin looking for answers. The only important thing I have to say is ‘go home.’”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Of course.” He sounded mildly offended that I’d ask. But I wasn’t really asking. I was diverting him from realizing that I hadn’t agreed to leave. He fell for it, and went on to tell me to bring him fresh clothing, along with a comb and a razor.
Ricky arrived a few minutes after we hung up. He brought a pillow, blanket, and hot chocolate.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said as he settled in, pulling the blanket over our legs.
“It’s like a sit-in,” he said. “I missed all that fun in my undergrad years. Not really my scene. But a protest against trumped-up criminal charges? I can get behind that. Now drink your cocoa. It’s like a mocha with less caffeine.”
“You could have gotten a decaf.”
“That’s just wrong.”
I smiled and leaned against his shoulder.
—
I did get some sleep, partly because Ricky kept haranguing me until I closed my eyes, and once I did, I drifted off. I’d been propped against him, his arm around me. At some point I fussed enough to end up lying across the chairs, and he’d put the pillow under my head and draped the blanket over me, and when I woke, I was alone. I sat up quickly to find him still there, pacing.
“Go home,” I said. “Seriously. It’s a police station. I’m safe.”
I was teasing, but when he turned, the smile fell from my face. He looked like he’d been awake for three nights straight.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m—” He sat beside me. “Sorry, you don’t need my shit right now. I know that. I just can’t . . . I can’t keep . . .”
“Ricky . . . ?”
“We need to talk, and I know this isn’t the time, and I’ve been trying to push this off, but I can’t.”
“Do you want to step outside?” I asked.
He nodded.
“We’ll tease the desk officer,” I said. “Make him think we’ve actually given up our vigil.”
I smiled, but his expression stayed dead serious. My heart started to thump.
When we were in the parking lot, I said again, “What’s wrong?”
He glanced back toward the police station. “I shouldn’t do this now. It’s just . . . I managed all day, but then night comes, and what I can put off during the day . . . I can’t anymore.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “It’s over.”
“What?”
“You and me. You were looking for easy and comfortable, and that’s not what you’re getting. Between your father and James, and now this . . .”
“Hell, no. I do not want that. At all.”
“Well, it’s obviously something you’d rather wait to tell me, and that’s the only thing that came to mind.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Liv,” he said. “I really, really do not, and I’m afraid . . .” He exhaled hard. “I just want you to know that I thought I was doing the right thing. Obviously, my solution was the wrong one—the worst possible one—and if I could go back and change it, I would. In a heartbeat.”
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.”
He exhaled again, and I could see the fear in his eyes, and I wanted to slap my hand over his mouth and say, No, don’t tell me. Whatever it is, if you’re this afraid to say it, don’t, because I don’t want to mess this up. I really do not want to mess this up. Instead, I took his hands, pulled him in front of me, and said, “Tell me.”
“It’s James. His death. I think—I think it might have been me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I was still asleep. I had to be.
I had no doubt Ricky was capable of violence. He’d put a man in the hospital two weeks ago. Like Gabriel, he’d grown up in a world where that was a reasonable way to solve your problems and, indeed, sometimes it was the only way.
My mother taught me that there was never any excuse for violence. I remember her horror when my private school principal called after I slugged a fellow third-grader because he tripped me on purpose. And I remember my father taking the phone and saying he sure as hell hoped the boy’s parents had gotten the first call, and that if someone lashed out at me, I had the right to hit back. Guess whose words I took to heart?
But now Ricky stood there saying he thought he’d killed James, and I was one hundred percent certain I was still asleep in the police station. Whatever Ricky was capable of, it didn’t include murdering James. It just didn’t.
“They moved it up, which may have something to do with you being camped out in their waiting room. I appreciate that, but you should go now. There’s no way we can meet before the arraignment.”
“Pamela,” I blurted. “When I was there yesterday morning, she said she knew you’d killed James. Someone had told her—one of the Cwn Annwn, I think.”
“Whatever Pamela said, I did not—”
“I know. But that’s why I froze up when they arrested you. Because I hadn’t warned you about what she’d said.”
“Ah.”
“I know you don’t have much time, so if you have anything important you need to say, cut me off, but I want to say that I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to give it any credence. If I’d thought, for one second, that you might actually be arrested—”
“It’s all right. It helps to know where to begin looking for answers. The only important thing I have to say is ‘go home.’”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Of course.” He sounded mildly offended that I’d ask. But I wasn’t really asking. I was diverting him from realizing that I hadn’t agreed to leave. He fell for it, and went on to tell me to bring him fresh clothing, along with a comb and a razor.
Ricky arrived a few minutes after we hung up. He brought a pillow, blanket, and hot chocolate.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said as he settled in, pulling the blanket over our legs.
“It’s like a sit-in,” he said. “I missed all that fun in my undergrad years. Not really my scene. But a protest against trumped-up criminal charges? I can get behind that. Now drink your cocoa. It’s like a mocha with less caffeine.”
“You could have gotten a decaf.”
“That’s just wrong.”
I smiled and leaned against his shoulder.
—
I did get some sleep, partly because Ricky kept haranguing me until I closed my eyes, and once I did, I drifted off. I’d been propped against him, his arm around me. At some point I fussed enough to end up lying across the chairs, and he’d put the pillow under my head and draped the blanket over me, and when I woke, I was alone. I sat up quickly to find him still there, pacing.
“Go home,” I said. “Seriously. It’s a police station. I’m safe.”
I was teasing, but when he turned, the smile fell from my face. He looked like he’d been awake for three nights straight.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m—” He sat beside me. “Sorry, you don’t need my shit right now. I know that. I just can’t . . . I can’t keep . . .”
“Ricky . . . ?”
“We need to talk, and I know this isn’t the time, and I’ve been trying to push this off, but I can’t.”
“Do you want to step outside?” I asked.
He nodded.
“We’ll tease the desk officer,” I said. “Make him think we’ve actually given up our vigil.”
I smiled, but his expression stayed dead serious. My heart started to thump.
When we were in the parking lot, I said again, “What’s wrong?”
He glanced back toward the police station. “I shouldn’t do this now. It’s just . . . I managed all day, but then night comes, and what I can put off during the day . . . I can’t anymore.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “It’s over.”
“What?”
“You and me. You were looking for easy and comfortable, and that’s not what you’re getting. Between your father and James, and now this . . .”
“Hell, no. I do not want that. At all.”
“Well, it’s obviously something you’d rather wait to tell me, and that’s the only thing that came to mind.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Liv,” he said. “I really, really do not, and I’m afraid . . .” He exhaled hard. “I just want you to know that I thought I was doing the right thing. Obviously, my solution was the wrong one—the worst possible one—and if I could go back and change it, I would. In a heartbeat.”
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.”
He exhaled again, and I could see the fear in his eyes, and I wanted to slap my hand over his mouth and say, No, don’t tell me. Whatever it is, if you’re this afraid to say it, don’t, because I don’t want to mess this up. I really do not want to mess this up. Instead, I took his hands, pulled him in front of me, and said, “Tell me.”
“It’s James. His death. I think—I think it might have been me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I was still asleep. I had to be.
I had no doubt Ricky was capable of violence. He’d put a man in the hospital two weeks ago. Like Gabriel, he’d grown up in a world where that was a reasonable way to solve your problems and, indeed, sometimes it was the only way.
My mother taught me that there was never any excuse for violence. I remember her horror when my private school principal called after I slugged a fellow third-grader because he tripped me on purpose. And I remember my father taking the phone and saying he sure as hell hoped the boy’s parents had gotten the first call, and that if someone lashed out at me, I had the right to hit back. Guess whose words I took to heart?
But now Ricky stood there saying he thought he’d killed James, and I was one hundred percent certain I was still asleep in the police station. Whatever Ricky was capable of, it didn’t include murdering James. It just didn’t.
