One to Go (8 page)

“Cute. Where did you hear that?”

“
CSI
.”

“Go home and go to bed. You're beginning to worry me.”

The next morning, Tom awoke late. He was surprised he'd slept at all, but his body had taken pity on him, and he'd been out a solid seven hours. No way could he concentrate at work, so he called in sick.

Never one for all-nighters before an exam, he did his best thinking in the morning. Refreshed by sleep, his mind spun at 100 mph while the hot stream of water pulsed from the showerhead. There was still a chance that Rosie's death was a coincidence. After all, there was no record of the text message on the phone, a fact that could be explained either by assuming the message had been a hallucination, or by assuming old Beelzebub had the power to project whatever he wanted onto a cell phone screen.

Could he take a chance? He still had the gun and about fifteen hours to do the deed. He considered putting the gun to his own temple. He would gladly give his life to save his daughter. But the identity of the girl who would be saved was unknown, so he could blow his brains out, Emma 2 would be saved, and Janie would die.

He thought extensively about going out hunting again after dark. Maybe, with no margin of error and the clock ticking down to midnight, he'd be able to summon the courage to pull the trigger.

Perhaps the key was not to get too close, don't look in the victim's eyes. A drive-by, so common now that the image had become a cliché on TV. He could rent another car from Happy Cal, drive
to a different section of town, find a couple of dealers standing on a corner, and blast away. Having learned his lesson regarding appropriate hand attire when firing a Ruger, he'd purchase a box of transparent latex gloves at the Columbia Road Rite Aid.

Problem was, he'd only have a split second—no moment to reflect, no time for second thoughts—and he wasn't certain he could pull the trigger. Which left one option. He needed to be near Janie when midnight rolled around to protect her.

He stepped out of the shower and, without bothering to dry off, quickly found his phone.

“
B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, and Bingo was his name
…”

Tom sang along with Janie and Angie who belted out the song from the backseat. He was proud of his daughter, who'd taken it upon herself to cheer up her cousin. They were heading back to his apartment after a trip to the movies and burgers at Chili's. During the ride to the theater, Angie barely spoke, but now she appeared a bit more animated.

Tom had concluded that the chances of him pointing a gun at a total stranger and pulling the trigger were slim, so the only real path open to him was to protect the girls from Chad and Brit. At first, he'd been surprised how readily Gayle had given up the girls for an overnight. Although, upon reflection, he could imagine the stress of having to deal with Angie on top of everyday motherhood responsibilities, so maybe the prospect of a day and night off would be welcome.

He still held out the slim hope that absolutely nothing would happen. However, if Chad were real—at least as real as a devil's disciple can be—Tom and his new buddy, Mr. Ruger, would be standing guard throughout the night. At one point he found himself hoping that maybe Chad would go for the low-hanging fruit and take one of the other girls, but he instantly became disgusted with himself for such a vile thought, and barred his mind from ever going there again.

It was a little after eight by the time they got back to his apartment. He'd already outfitted the couch with a pillow and blanket for himself so the girls could use the bed. Since it wasn't a school night, they gathered on the couch with a bag of Oreos and watched the Disney Channel.

His phone rang. He tensed, then realized four more hours had to pass before he might—
would?
—hear from Chad and Brit.

It was Gayle. Probably wanting to know if he could keep the girls a little longer.

“Tom, Gino made bail.”

“What? On a murder charge?”

His tone of voice didn't go unnoticed. “Daddy, is that Mommy?” asked Janie.

He saw Angie's face blanch. The reference to murder left no doubt in her mind whom he was talking about. “Yes, sweetie, it's Mommy.” He got up and walked into the bedroom. “What happened?”

“There was a bail-review hearing yesterday. He drew a softhearted judge. She found the death was the result of an alleged crime of passion. Gino had no priors and strong community ties. She ruled he wasn't a threat to the community and there was no risk of flight. He was just released this afternoon after posting his half of the company as bond.”

“How'd you find out?”

“He just called me. Said he was house bound, wearing one of those ankle monitors. He wants to see Angie. She's not permitted in his presence without an adult, and my first instinct was not to let that child anywhere near the man, even with someone else present. I told him we'd check with child services in the morning and get back to him. Then he started crying, begging to just see her for a few minutes. He says he needs to tell her how sorry he is and how he didn't mean it.”

“And—?”

“Look, I witnessed him beat my own sister to death, so no one has more reason to hate the man than me. I can't explain
it, but a part of me believes he may have had some kind of seizure. You've seen them together. Never a hint of violence, and if he'd ever laid a finger on her, she'd have told me. I'm torn. What I saw in the kitchen was a monster. But that's just it. A monster, something that wasn't real. Not the big teddy bear I've known for years.”

“So—”

“I told him you'd swing by for a few minutes.”

“Are you nuts?”

“You should've heard him, Tom. There was something in his voice. I said the only way I'd authorize it would be if you were present at all times.”

“Jeez—”

“You go to the door, he answers it, he says what he has to say, you leave. That's the deal, and he readily agreed. Angie will probably be nervous, so you can take Janie with you to keep her company.”

“But if you're right and he went tilt—”

“He sounded normal. Upset, but normal. Not like he was going to take his own life or anything. As I said, hard to explain.”

Take his own life
. A horrible thought occurred to Tom. No,
no way
. He looked into the bedroom at the two innocent faces watching him, worried, wondering. Could he really take a chance? His voice rasped as he spoke.

“I'll gather up the girls.”

Tom considered leaving Janie in the car, but she wouldn't hear of it. Both girls huddled behind his legs as Gino came to the door. When Gino saw Angie, he couldn't hold back his tears. He bent down and opened his arms.

“Baby—”

For a moment, Angie hesitated, then she ran to her father and buried herself in his embrace. Gino swept up his daughter.

“Baby, I'm so sorry. I swear to you, I didn't mean to hurt Mommy.”

“Aunt Gayle said you just got sick and germs went to your brain and made you do it, but you didn't really mean it.”

“Maybe Aunt Gayle's right, honey.” He looked at Tom. “Thank you. I know bringing her over wasn't an easy decision.”

“No problem.”

“Uncle Tom's going to take you home now,” said Gino. “But tomorrow, we're going to talk to the court lady and see if you can stay longer next time.” He hastily added, “With Uncle Tom or Aunt Gayle present, of course.”

Tom glanced down at his daughter. His mouth felt full of cotton. “Uh, look, if you want us to come in for a few minutes, I don't see any harm.”

Gino smiled from ear to ear, and without another word, carried his daughter into the house. Tom and Janie followed and closed the door. They moved to the family room, Gino and Angie refusing to let go of each other.

“Why don't Janie and I go into the kitchen and have a soda so you two can talk,” said Tom.

Gino nodded. “Take off your jacket and make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks, I'll keep it on. Little chilly in here.” He walked into the kitchen with Janie following close behind. She sat down at the kitchen table and he poured a couple of Cokes over ice. If ever he needed a little something to take the edge off, it was now. He opened Gino's liquor cabinet, retrieved a half-filled bottle of Jack, and poured two fingers into his Coke.

“Is Uncle Gino going to jail?” asked Janie.

“I don't know for sure, but he probably will. He did a very bad thing.”

“I know, he killed Aunt Rosie. But you know what?”

“What?”

“I don't think he meant it. I think it was the brain germs.”

How was he supposed to respond to that? Tell her she's right, and the only reason Uncle Gino smashed Aunt Rosie's brain to mush was because her father goofed up and decided not to murder anybody?

“I think it was the brain germs too, honey, but that will be for a judge and jury to decide.”

“If he goes to jail, who's gonna take care of Angie?”

“We all will, sweetie.” He looked through the door to the family room, where he saw Gino sitting inches from his daughter talking earnestly. Tom couldn't hear what he was saying, but he didn't need to. Gino would be explaining how he loved her mother and he doesn't know what got into him. And maybe he did get sick, and the sickness made him do it, and he loved her very much, and no matter what happened, she needed to be strong.

Tom glanced at the kitchen clock—almost eleven thirty already. His chest tightened. Could he do this? He drained his drink and reentered the family room.

“Sorry, but it's after eleven,” said Tom. “Need to get these girls to bed.”

“Catchin' a cold? Your voice sounds funny.”

“Sore throat. Bug goin' around.”
Forget about my throat, you should feel the battery acid sloshing around in my stomach
.

“You need to take care of yourself,” said Gino.

“Yeah.” This time his throat was so tight, the word was barely more than mouthed.

“Angie, you go on back to Janie's house with Uncle Tom,” said Gino. “I'm going to talk to Aunt Gayle tomorrow, and we're going to work something out so maybe you can come home. Would you like that?” She nodded, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and gave Gino a last hug.

“You girls go on out to the car and lock the door,” said Tom. “I'll be out in a minute. I need to talk to Uncle Gino.”

Janie took her cousin's hand and walked her out of the house. Tom watched to make sure they were safe, then closed the door. Gino turned to him.

“I want you to know I didn't mean to kill her.”

“I know. Let's go into the kitchen to talk.” Gino followed Tom into the kitchen and sat down while Tom pulled two beers from the fridge.

“Don't think I'm supposed to be drinkin',” said Gino.

“One beer.” Tom set the can of Bud in front of Gino and wondered why his former brother-in-law didn't comment on his shaking hand. Gino popped the top and took a long sip.

“What the hell am I gonna do?” asked Gino, dropping his head into his hands.

Tom cleared his voice. He needed to sound as normal as possible.
Normal. What a joke
. “You killed her, even though you know you didn't mean it. I'm afraid you're going to be sent away for a long time. Maybe the rest of your life.”

“If I go to jail, what'll happen to Angie?”

“I swear to you that Gayle, Dave, and I will take care of her as if she were our own daughter.”

Okay, what he was about to say next would be the first step down the road to hell.
Road to hell. Funny
. But couldn't he simply
bring the girls back inside, partner up with Mr. Ruger, and watch over them till after the clock struck midnight? And what were the chances absolutely nothing would happen?

The chances
. That was the problem, wasn't it? Could he really take the chance his daughter would die within the next few minutes?”
No
. He took a deep breath.