Brutality (46 page)

“Stay away from my family,” Kevin said, shaking his finger at her.

“Start telling the truth, and I will.”

He stomped out of the room.

Fina watched him recede down the hallway. Perhaps Kevin’s good looks and charming personality had provided a cocoon that had buffered him throughout his life. He was used to getting his way. He wasn’t used to being questioned or doubted. No wonder Fina was sending him into orbit.

—

F
ina went by Carl’s office to let him know that she’d dealt with Kevin, but her father was in a meeting. She was heading out when her phone rang. Risa’s number lit up the screen.

“Hey,” Fina answered. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Is there any way you could stop by today?”

“Sure. What works for you?”

“In a few hours?” Risa suggested. “I’ll feed you.”

Fina glanced at her watch. “Yum. Something to look forward to. I’ll see you then.”

Rather than go home and then head out to Newton, Fina decided to take advantage of the firm’s Wi-Fi and free supply of diet sodas. She reclaimed her place in the conference room and pulled out her computer, then logged on to Facebook, pleased to see that twenty-four of her friend requests had been accepted. Who were these people who accepted a friend request from a complete stranger? She eliminated the new friends who didn’t resemble the photo of the car bomber; men who were old, white, skinny, Asian, or lived outside of Massachusetts were dismissed with a click of her mouse.

That left Fina with five candidates. The five men were all black, in their twenties, and big. Fina scrolled through their profiles and immediately ruled out two of them based on their photos. The remaining three had few photos posted, none of them of particularly good quality, so Fina couldn’t rule them in or out. She typed a private message to each man asking if he was available to catch up. Fina hoped they would respond, and she hoped that one of them was her guy. That was a lot of hoping—not her preferred method of private investigation—but it was the best she could do. She’d worry about her next step when she had to take one.

—

F
ina rang Risa’s doorbell and opened the door simultaneously.

“Risa!” she hollered toward the back of the house.

“I’m back here!”

Fina stripped off her jacket and padded back to the kitchen. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” she scolded.

Risa was pulling a pie pan out of the oven. She set it on the stovetop and dropped the pot holders onto the counter. “Has there been an uptick in crime I don’t know about?”

“No,” Fina said, climbing onto a stool at the island, “but if you lock up, you never have to be the doofus on the news who was robbed when a thief walked in the front door.”

“Not that you’re judging the victims,” Risa said, smiling.

Fina shrugged. “Trust Allah, but tie up your camel.”

Risa made plates for both of them.

“How are the kids?” Fina asked, filling two glasses with seltzer.

“They’re good. Jordan has his first dance in a couple of weeks.”

“Please tell me you’re chaperoning.”

“I’ve threatened to, but he’s been on his best behavior to safeguard against that possibility. Let’s sit at the table,” Risa said, directing Fina toward the large farm table in the family room area.

“This looks delicious,” Fina commented. “What is it?”

“You’re my guinea pig. It’s pistachio and arugula quiche. I’m thinking of making it for a committee luncheon that I have to host.”

“I love being your guinea pig,” Fina said, cutting off a piece of the quiche, which shared the plate with a green salad.

“I have to serve something that’s easy to eat from a plate in your lap and won’t scare anybody off in terms of fat and calories.”

Fina rolled her eyes and put a forkful in her mouth. “Delicious,” she declared after swallowing the bite.

“Obviously,” Risa said after a moment, “I didn’t just invite you here for quiche.” She fiddled with the napkin on her lap.

“Obviously,” Fina said.

Risa took a deep breath. “I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

Fina nodded.

“Marty and I have had a lot of conversations,” Risa continued, “and I’ve also met with a social worker who specializes in organ transplants.” She looked away.

Fina put down her fork and squeezed Risa’s hand. “Whatever you’ve decided is okay. There is no wrong answer.”

Risa swallowed and a tear rolled down her cheek. “I can’t do it, Fina. I can’t give her my kidney.”

“It’s okay.” Fina moved her hand to Risa’s shoulder and rubbed it. “Really.”

Risa blotted her eyes with her napkin. “It’s the right decision, but that doesn’t make it any easier.” She gestured to her tear-streaked face.

“There’s nothing easy about it,” Fina said. “You must be exhausted from the whole process.”

Risa took a long drink. “I am.”

“Well, now you can put it behind you.” Fina picked up her fork and pressed it into the golden crust of the quiche.

“I know I didn’t want your opinion right after we met with Greta,” Risa said.

Fina nodded. “And that made sense. You needed to figure this out on your own with Marty.”

“But now that I’ve made my decision, I’d like to hear what you think.”

Fina held up a finger while she finished chewing a mouthful. “I don’t think you should give her your kidney,” she said.

“You’re not just saying that because I’ve decided the same thing?” Risa asked.

“No. Getting someone else’s organ isn’t a right, it’s a privilege, and the recipient needs to earn it. Greta hasn’t.”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Well, first of all, you have kids, and they should get first dibs on your spare parts.”

Risa chuckled. “Like you have dibs on Elaine’s.”

“Oh, God. Let’s not use my family as an example,” Fina said, loading her fork with greens. She didn’t encounter much produce, so she tried to take advantage when she did. “So your kids get dibs on your organs. Also, I wish I believed otherwise, but I think Greta’s primary interest in you is your kidney.”

Risa exhaled loudly. “I know. That’s what I think.”

“I really wish that weren’t the case, but she never made any effort to find you or find out about you, even after her sister died.” Fina tried to make her delivery gentle, but it was a difficult statement to soften. “I’m not convinced she would have sought you out if not for her declining health, and I’m not convinced she wants to foster a real relationship with you.”

“But shouldn’t I be the better person?” Risa asked. “Shouldn’t I be more generous than she’s being?”

“Why?” Fina asked. “Your body belongs to you. If you decide to give a piece to someone because that’s truly what you want to do, that’s one thing, but you shouldn’t feel coerced into that decision. It’s not your job to fix Greta.”

“I feel like it is.”

“Why? Who gave you that job?” Fina captured a pistachio between the tines of her fork.

Risa shrugged. “Because we’re blood relatives, I guess.”

“But if that creates an obligation, doesn’t that obligation apply to Greta, too? An obligation to find you
before
she needed an organ?”

Risa considered the statement for a moment. “I suppose. It just feels like I’m being selfish.”

“You’re being thoughtful and responsible, and you’re putting your own well-being and that of your family first. Maybe a transplant would go smoothly, but if it didn’t and you suffered a setback either now or in the future, how would your kids feel?”

“They’d be upset.”

Fina blinked. “That’s an understatement. Did the social worker suggest you were selfish for not giving Greta your kidney?”

“No,” Risa admitted. “She thought it made sense given the circumstances.”

“Good. Now you just need to believe it.” Fina ate another bite of quiche. Risa moved the food around on her plate.

“Another thing to keep in mind,” Fina said, “is that you may not have been a match. Or you may have been a match, but the transplant wouldn’t have worked. The choice isn’t save Greta or let her die. The choice is whether or not you should set off down a long and difficult path with no guarantees. I think you’re making the right choice by stepping off the path.”

Risa smiled weakly. “Thanks. I appreciate what you’re saying.” She put down her fork and picked up her glass. “In the meantime, how am I supposed to tell her?”

“I’ll tell her,” Fina offered.

“I can’t let you tell her.”

“Why not? I know her as well as you do.”

“That would feel like chickening out,” Risa said.

“Why? Because you don’t want to give her the opportunity to manipulate you and make you feel guilty?”

Risa was silent.

“How about this? You write her a letter explaining your decision, and I’ll call her once you’ve sent it to warn her about the contents,” Fina offered.

“That might work,” Risa said. “That way I can say what I have to say, but not actually have a conversation with her.”

“Exactly. So write the letter and let me know when you’re ready to send it.”

They had a few more bites of food, both of their appetites dampened by the conversation. Fina helped Risa do the dishes and tidy up the kitchen.

“You’ve been a lifesaver during this whole thing, Fina,” Risa said when she walked her to the front door.

“I’m flattered that you included me.” Fina pulled on her boots and jacket. “I’m always here to talk.”

“Thank you.” Risa hugged her.

“Thanks for lunch,” Fina said, walking out the door.

She got into her car and leaned back against the seat. Now that Risa had made her decision, Fina felt relieved that Risa wasn’t going to volunteer to climb onto the operating table. Fina wanted the people she loved to stay intact as long as they possibly could.

—

A
re you out of your goddamn mind?”

Pamela looked up to see Kevin in the doorway of her office. Jill stood behind him, distress etched across her face.

“Nice to see you, Kevin, as always,” Pamela said, and gestured for him to come in. “Jill, could you close the door and hold my calls, please?”

Kevin planted himself in front of Pamela’s desk, and Jill pulled the door closed behind her.

“Have a seat,” Pamela said.

“I don’t want to sit down,” he said. “This isn’t a social call.” His cheeks were red, and his neck seemed to be straining against his collar and tie.

“So what is it, then?”

“What did you say to that private investigator, Fina Ludlow?”

Pamela leaned back in her chair and rotated slowly from side to side. “What makes you think I said anything?”

“She went to my house, Pamela. She questioned my wife.”

“About what?”

“About where I was the night that Liz Barone was attacked,” Kevin sputtered.

Pamela’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“And what about the claim that I fool around with NEU students? Does that have something to do with you?”

Pamela glared at him and gripped the armrests of her chair. “Everybody knows you can’t keep it in your pants, Kevin. It isn’t exactly a secret.”

“So what? You told her?”

“This conversation is over,” she said, reaching for her mouse. “I have work to do.”

“Was she getting a little too close to the truth?” Kevin asked. “You wanted to distract her with some juicy gossip?”

“Gossip? Have you really convinced yourself that you’re innocent in all this?”

“Have you?” He glared at her, and she tried to hold his gaze, but failed.

“You need to leave,” Pamela said. “We have nothing more to discuss.”

“That’s always been your problem, Pamela. You don’t think things through. You make rash decisions that you end up regretting.”

“Don’t threaten me, Kevin.”

“Too late. You should have thought about the consequences before you threw me under the bus.”

Pamela tugged on the sleeve of her jacket. “What difference does it make if Fina knows about your affairs?”

“If I lose my standing with the university, I’m going to hold you personally responsible.”

Pamela picked up the phone. “I’m calling security.”

“No need. I’m leaving.” Kevin flung open the door and left.

Pamela kneaded her hands together.

Goddamnit. What had she done?

—

D
inner at Carl and Elaine’s was the last thing that Fina wanted, but she worried that if she didn’t attend, some Rand-related plan would be hatched. She arrived at her parents’ house exactly at the appointed hour, hopeful that her appearance would resemble a well-executed military plan—in and out, quickly and quietly, with minimal bloodshed.

Fina found Patty, Elaine, Haley, and the little boys in the media room.

“Where are Scotty and Matthew?” she asked.

“They’re in with your dad,” Patty told her.

Fina hated when family gatherings were split down gender lines. It was a practice from another century, or another decade, at the very least. Just what were the men discussing that was too coarse for her feminine ears? Money? Sports? Politics?

“Where are you going?” Elaine asked as Fina turned to leave the room.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

In Carl’s office, Scotty and Matthew were sitting on the couch, with Carl behind his desk.

“Hey,” Fina said, sitting down on the couch across from her brothers.

They greeted her and returned to their conversation about the Bruins.

“Did you take care of that man this morning?” Carl asked her a few minutes later. This was one of the things that made him so good in court. He lulled you down one conversational path only to veer off into a ravine. Luckily, Fina was inured to his tactics.

“Yeah. I stopped by your office to tell you, but you were in a meeting,” Fina said. “Shari was supposed to give you the message.”

“What man?” Matthew asked.

“Kevin Lafferty. He’s involved in the NEU case.”

“He was running his mouth about suing you,” her father said.

“I know,” Fina said. “He’s clueless.”

“Well, he was certainly distracting.”