My Sister's Keeper (13 page)

Over her shoulder I could see him sitting in the den in his pajamas and robe with his arms stretched forward like that statue of Abraham Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial. She cried as she told me about all the tests they’d put him through and what they’d said. I put my arms around her and held her.

“
Come here, boy!” Dad’s voice barked from the living room. Her eyes pleaded with me not to go to him. Seeing my mother like that was unnerving, but she knew I had to go to him.

I touched my forehead to hers, closed my eyes, and whispered, “I’ve got to go to him, Mom. You know he’ll be a lot more upset if I don’t.”

“
Come here, boy!”

She gripped my shirt at the shoulders and cried.

“
I’ll make it quick. I promise. And I’ll walk out if he starts anything.”

I kissed her cheek, pulled her hands off me, and stepped around her. Dad raised his chin and looked through the bottom of his trifocals as I sat on the arm of the padded couch opposite him.

“
Sorry to hear about your heart, Dad.”

His voice was strange—hoarse. “So what the hell was that all about last night?”

I looked at the marks on my wrists. “It’s just a mistake, Dad.”

“
That don’t tell me what it’s about.”

“
Something happened to the woman that lives next door to me Sunday night and because I’d been over there earlier, they think I had something to do with it.”

“
Did you?” I let my eyes travel around the room I’d come to hate. His
courtroom
where I’d been tried and convicted too many times to count. A room I’d not set foot in for years.

I scrubbed the palms of my hands on my legs and sighed. “What the hell kind of question is that, Dad?”

“
I want the
truth
.”

“
That is the
truth
, Dad. Plain and simple. Why can’t you just believe me for once?”

“
Once you tell that first lie, you can’t ever be trusted again.”

“
What are you talking about, Dad? Are you talking about that car thing twenty years ago?”

“
One lie’s all it takes.”

“
I’ve told you a thousand times I didn’t take that car. Ten thousand times. I even proved it to you. What the hell’s it going to take to get you to believe me?”

“
They had a witness.”

“
It wasn’t me! I was taking a photograph on the other side of town. I had a witness. I couldn’t have been there.”

His face reddened and his eyes glared. “Oh, give it up, Richard! The woman identified you in a line-up, for heaven’s sake!”

The hate in his voice sent a chill through me. There was no way I was ever going to change his mind and I certainly wasn’t going to confess to something I didn’t do. The only thing this was leading to is another heart attack. I lowered my voice and rose to my feet. “The woman made a mistake. That happens, you know. I’ve got to go.”

“
Aren’t you going to ask me how I’m feeling?”

“
I can see how you’re feeling, Dad, and my being here is not good for you.” I started out.

“
All you care about is yourself.” He chuckled deep in his throat as if he was bringing something up to spit out. “A selfish
liar!
No wonder you ain’t got a wife.”

I stopped at the door, slapped a hand against the frame, and turned back to face him. “You’re right, Dad. It’s taken me thirty-two years to figure it out, but the only way to keep you from ripping me apart inside is simply not to care. So I
don’t
care anymore—
Daddy
. You don’t care how I’m feeling and I don’t care how you’re feeling. A chip off the old block!”

“
Well, I’ll tell you how
I’m
feeling. I go to the door last night and look out and I see the police all up and down the street—like something big has happened—like there’d been a murder. So I step out and what do I see?
You
being handcuffed and hauled off in a police car and all the neighbors and all the TV people taking it all in. How do you think I feel? Huh? It’s all over town, you know.”

“
That’s not
my
fault! I had nothing to do with any of it!”

“
Liar!”

I stepped toward him. “I am not lying! What you saw was just the police trying to look like they’re doing something.”

“
Well, how do you think I’m going to feel when I have to go back to work and face everybody? You think anybody’s going to want to buy a car from me now?”

“
Well, how do you think it’s going to affect me? I’m the one that was spread all over the ground with handcuffs on. I’m the one that they paraded in front of the TV cameras. I’m the one that spent the night in jail! How do you think
I
feel?”

His hand went to his chest. “I would hope you’re just as ashamed as I am.”

I should have stopped right there and left, but I couldn’t. There were things that had been bottled up inside me my entire life and they were coming out.

“
You know what hurts the most, Dad?” My eyes stung and my chin quivered. “The thing that hurts the most is having to come here and face you. It’s bad enough to have to face the rest of the town, but coming here is
worse
. Just once in my life I’d like to have your support on something. Just once in my life I’d like to feel that you were behind me.”

His hand reached into a pocket, withdrew a tiny bottle, and opened it. “So you think I should have been proud of you last night?” He shook out a pill and placed it under his tongue.

Tears clouded my vision. “And just once in my life I’d like to have a real conversation with you, Dad. Something intelligent. Something that isn’t me trying to explain some shit that you can’t understand.
Or won’t!”

He extended an arm and pointed a finger at me speaking through his teeth. “Watch your mouth, boy. I can still take you down.”

I’d said none of what I wanted to say, too much of what I didn’t want to say, and knew it wasn’t going to get any better. “I’m sorry about your attack. I’m sorry you’re too stupid to have the surgery and I’m sorry I’m your son! I’ve got to go.”

“
And I’m sorry you were ever born!”

His last words pierced me like a spear and kept ricocheting through my mind all the way home.
God, please let this shit blow over so I can get out of this damned town before I do kill somebody!

As I entered my house, I felt a sharp crack of pain in the back of my skull. My legs dropped out from under me and everything went black.

17

W
HEN I CAME TO, the pain in my head was so intense I couldn’t open my eyes. I lay on my back on the cold stone floor and tried to focus, but my brain wasn’t ready to function. The side of my face rested in a gooey puddle and my shirt collar was wet and sticky. As I lifted my head, nausea settled over me. Holding my breath and waiting for it to pass, I remembered going to rehearsal, talking with Dad, and finding the reporters all gone when I got home.
Had someone struck me as I came through the door?

The house was dark except for the silvery moonlight coming in the windows. The room spun around me as if I’d pulled a cheap drunk. I sat up drawing deep breaths to clear my head. My hair, shirt, and jacket were wet. I pressed a hand against the back of my head and found a lump at the base of my skull. The room seemed to wheel up on its side. I braced myself to keep from tipping over and vomited between my knees.

I was shaking, dizzy, and weak. I couldn’t see. I had lost a lot of blood and I needed help. I dragged myself across the floor to the telephone and fumbled around the end table for it. It wasn’t in the cradle and looking for it exhausted me. Falling back against the floor, I gasped for air.

“
What did you do with the money?” a voice boomed out of the darkness.

I railed up onto my elbows. “Who’s there?”

“
You heard me.” The voice had a thick New Jersey accent. “What did you do with the fuckin’ money?”

My arms gave way and I sank back to the floor panting. My mind edged toward unconsciousness and my voice dropped to a whisper. “What money are you talking about?”

“
The money you took from the girl you killed, asshole.”

The room swirled and faded to gray. My head rocked from side to side. I tried to think. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“
The police think you did.”

My pulse faded and my breathing slowed. I exhaled slowly. “The police are wrong.”

Suddenly, I was floating a foot above the floor. I grabbed his wrists to steady myself and fought against the heightened urge to vomit again. His face came close to mine. He had a thick mustache, heavy eyebrows, and smelled of mineral spirits and bourbon.

“
Don’t…screw…with…me…man!” he shrieked, the knuckles of his fist bearing down into my chest. “The bitch stole one hundred fifty thousand dollars from me and I’m willing to bet you stole it from her. It’s a lot of money, Baimbridge, but I don’t think you want to die for it.”

The room swirled as I dangled from his grip. “I have…no idea…what you’re—” Vomit erupted from my throat interrupting my reply. He released me and as I slammed back against the stone floor, light flashed through my head and I sank into a pool of darkness.

I AWOKE TO A CONCERT of chickadees, robins, and a bright morning sun in my eyes. I tried to rise, but fell back when pain fired around my head. Memories of the previous night flooded through my mind like a dream.

I felt the sticky floor, rose to a sitting position, and discovered the blood and puke on the floor, and the open wound on the back of my head. The house had been ransacked. The nightmare had been real. I stripped out of my clothes, used them to clean up the floor, and left them in a pile. I fixed a pot of strong coffee and drank about half of it sitting naked and bloody by the windows. Mrs. Winslow pretended not to notice as she shook the dust out of her mop, but kept stealing glances in my direction.

After a hot shower, I got dressed, tossed the clothes in the laundry, and mopped the floor. By 8:30 a.m., my eyesight had pulled back together.

Picking up the phone, I got a dial tone, called the office, and told Lizzy I wouldn’t be in until later. I took the bike to the emergency room at New Hanover Hospital where they put eleven stitches in my head and charged me nine hundred dollars.

I stopped on the way to work to see Scott McGillikin. We hadn’t gotten off to a very good start and I thought things might be better in his office. I was led right in and waited for an invitation to sit, which didn’t come. He looked rough, like he’d been up all night. I told him about my visitor, the money, and the stitches. “How do I stop him from coming back?”

He leaned back, looked over his nose at me, and acted as if even an idiot should know the answer to that question. “Give him the money.”

I stepped forward, planted my hands on his desk, and leaned well over it. “Let’s you and me get something straight right now.” He tried to intimidate me with his steely eyes, but I didn’t let that deter me. I’d seen a pair just like them too many times. “I’m being harassed by the police, by the media, by some gangster that thinks I have his money, and by my own father who wishes I’d never been born. I sure as hell don’t need it from my attorney. I did not harm Ashleigh Matthews in any way and did not know about the damned money until last night. I may be the first one you’ve ever had, but this man is innocent and if it’s beyond your abilities to treat me that way, then I want someone else to represent me. Got it?”

His expression never changed. He raised his coffee and sipped. “What did this man look like?”

I dropped into the deep leather chair in front of his desk and propped my feet on the ottoman in front of it. “It was dark. All I know is he had a thick mustache and a northern accent.”

“
Did you report it to the police?”

“
I didn’t see where that would help.” Scott didn’t respond, just sipped his coffee. “But don’t you think it sheds new light on the case?”

“
New light?” he asked.

“
Let me ask you something. How does this work? Do you build your case on things you look into on your own, or do you just use what the police share with you?” He sipped his coffee. “Do you think we could find out where Ashleigh worked? Who she worked with?” He drew his eyebrows down, but remained silent. “Look, I just want to know how it works. What to expect. I’ve never been charged with murder before.”

“
I ran a check on her social security number first thing this morning. Nobody’s reported any income to it in a year.”

“
So, what do we do now?”

“
What I do is plan the work and work the plan. What
you
do, Mr. Baimbridge, is stay out of trouble and let me do my job.”