Authors: Marcia Clark
FIFTY-FIVE
I
woke up with something
over my face. I tried to grab it, but someone grabbed my hands and said, “It’s oxygen. Just breathe.” The sound of a siren pierced my ears, and I realized we were in motion. My chest burned and my eyes were streaming so badly everything was a blur. Then I passed out again. The next time I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. And ironically, Alex was standing next to it.
Disoriented and nauseous, I stared up at him, wondering if I was dreaming. “Alex? What’re you doing here?”
“The cops. They were in the ’hood when the fire broke out, and they knew that was your office. That’s how come the firemen got there so fast.”
For a change, being in the middle of gang turf had paid off. “But how’d they reach you?”
Alex gave a little smile. “You’re famous, remember? They know who you are, and they know who works with you. I think they called to find out where I was. How’re you feeling?”
Something pinged in my head when he’d said “called.” But I couldn’t focus long enough to figure out what it was. “I’m okay.” Dizzy, nauseous, and still breathing fire—but alive—which was a lot better than I’d expected. “Michelle?”
“Yeah, she looks the same as you. Kind of a mess, but still with us. What happened?”
Michelle was okay. Tears of relief leaked out of the corners of my eyes. My throat was raw and it was hard to talk. I croaked out slowly, “Don’t know. Fire in the stairway. Then, someone threw . . . something through the window.”
I could tell Alex was struggling not to sound alarmed. “Like a Molotov?” I shrugged. “Why? Who would do this to you?”
I had to take a deep breath to force out the words. “Don’t know.” I thought for a moment. Since the Molotov—or whatever the hell it was—had been thrown through my window, I was pretty sure I’d been targeted, but now it occurred to me there were other possibilities. “Might not be me. That copy service.”
“The one right below our office?”
I nodded. “They’re sinking. Owe money—”
“You think it’s an insurance scam?”
“Or bangers . . .”
“Like maybe someone in the building might’ve pissed off some gangbangers?” I nodded. Alex looked skeptical. “Then why throw a Molotov through
your
window?”
“Only one open.” I paused to take another deep breath—as deep as I could manage anyway.
Alex looked skeptical. “I guess it’s possible.” Alex fell silent for a moment. “But this case has generated an awful lot of attention. I don’t have to tell you there are some crazies out there with real strong feelings about Dale—and
you
.”
He was right. He didn’t have to tell me. But would the nutballs go this far? It seemed a bit extreme. I shrugged. “Could be.”
“Anyway, the cops have someone posted outside your door, and you should be here for a while, so I think you’ll be safe.”
A while? “No! Got to get out!” I only had one day to look for witnesses, and I wasn’t going to let this damn fire ruin it for me.
Alex was exasperated. “Sam, you can’t win this case if you’re dead.”
“I’m okay . . .” I had another coughing fit. “When can I get out?”
“When you stop doing that.” I gave him a look. Alex sighed. “The nurse said if nothing goes wrong, they’d let you go after twenty-four hours.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have time—”
“Come on, even that maniac judge has to cut you some slack now.”
“No.” I paused to wheeze in another breath. Now that I’d been conscious for a little while, the possibility that I’d been targeted seemed more and more likely. And I didn’t think it was by some whacked-out loony-bin reject. It wasn’t that the firebombing was exactly a sophisticated effort. That stupid building was easy pickings. But it had taken some planning—not a lot, but some. “If someone’s . . . trying to stop me . . . got to figure out why. Maybe we’re onto something.”
Alex didn’t look happy, but he didn’t argue. “I see your point. But if that’s true, then you can’t go home. You and Michelle should stay with me.”
I waved him off. “Can’t find me. My address . . . not public.”
Alex was impatient. “If people are willing to burn down your office to get to you, what makes you think they wouldn’t find a way to get your address?”
“It’s blocked.” Ever since my days as a public defender, I’ve had a block on my address. Even cops who stop me for speeding have to jump hurdles to get it.
“Want me to show you how fast I can find it? And they don’t even have to be as good as me.”
I held up a hand. “Please don’t.” I didn’t need to see how wrong I’d been to feel so secure all these years. Especially right now.
He folded his arms. “It’s my place or my uncle’s.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“
De nada
. Just give me the key to your place and a list of what you need.”
I tried to draw another deep breath and went into another coughing jag. When it finally stopped, I said, “Keys were in my purse, but . . .” They’d be a melted mess by now. Everything was gone. I couldn’t absorb it all. I closed my eyes. Alex’s voice yanked me back.
“You don’t have a spare anywhere?”
I forced myself to think. “I . . . wait, yeah. Taped on the
ledge . . . above door.” I still had my apartment. I hadn’t lost everything. That thought made me feel a little better. I wrote down a list of what I’d need for the next couple of days.
Of course the press got ahold of the story. I had a television in my room, and it was showing the footage of my office building going up in flames. Michelle and I had been the only ones inside, and we were reported to be in “stable condition.” But the building was a total disaster. One of the firemen said multiple code violations allowed the fire to spread as fast and hard as it did. That came as no shock. But the sight of it was devastating. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched all my hard work for the past seven years dissolve into ashes.
Alex had a mournful look as he watched with me. But after a few moments, he snatched the remote and turned it off. “Stop watching that. It’s just a building. You’re still a lawyer; you still have cases. And there’ll be more.” I nodded and wiped my cheeks. Alex handed me a Kleenex. “Have the police called you yet?”
Police. I hadn’t thought about that. But his mention of the police calling made me remember what’d pinged me before. “Phone!” My heart was hammering in my chest. Paige’s cell phone had been in my purse—the purse that was now a puddle of ashes and soot. We’d never find the place now. “Paige’s phone . . . the photo . . .”
Alex put a hand on my shoulder. “Samantha, it’s okay. You left the phone with me. Remember?” It took a moment to register. That’s right. I’d left it with him when I went to see him at his uncle’s house. The relief was so sharp I couldn’t speak. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. Alex patted my arm. “Get some rest. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you both up.”
I slept as well as anyone can in a hospital, with nurses constantly checking this and probing that. But I didn’t have any other visitors that night. Reporters had been calling the hospital, and the next morning, some even tried to see me. I told the nurses to throw them out and refused all calls. But there was one person I couldn’t keep out.
Jack tapped on the door, which was standing open. As always, his round, smiling face and rosy cheeks lifted my spirits. The full head of auburn hair he’d had when he’d married Celeste was just a monk’s fringe now, and it was all white—like his neatly trimmed beard and mustache. But he moved like a man half his age, and he exuded good energy. His marriage to my mother was proof that darkness seeks out light.
The smile froze on my face when I realized his appearance might mean Celeste was there. But when I looked over his shoulder, I saw he was alone. My smile relaxed into the real thing, and I told him to come in.
He came over and kissed my forehead. “How are you feeling? You look remarkably good, all things considered.”
“Getting better by the minute.” And I was. It had been a long, fairly sleepless night, but now my voice was almost back to normal, and the coughing fits were nearly gone.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to my bed. “I assume the police will be investigating. Do you have any idea who might’ve done this? Or why?”
“No. It might just be a scam by one of the other businesses in the building.”
“Can’t pay the rent?” I nodded. “Wouldn’t surprise me. Well, I’m just glad you’re okay. Can I get you anything to eat? I’m sure the food here really sucks.”
I laughed. “They brought me scrambled eggs that tasted like cardboard. How do you mess up scrambled eggs?”
Jack smiled. “It’s a medical miracle. But you’re not hungry?” I shook my head. “What about clothes, shampoo? I’d be glad to bring you anything you need.”
“Thanks, Jack. I should be getting out pretty soon, so I’ll be okay.”
“What time? I’ll pick you up—”
“I really appreciate it, but no worries. I’ve got it covered.”
Jack patted my hand. I saw a shadow pass over his face. I had a feeling I knew what was coming. I was right. “Your mother wanted to come see you, but we thought it might be best not to right now, given how . . . strained things have been between you two lately.”
This was the time to tell him that things weren’t just strained between us—they were over. Forever. But for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I gave him a twisted smile. “Bet it wasn’t too hard to talk her out of coming.” Celeste hated hospitals. And it would never have occurred to her to come just to check in on me. Had she really said she wanted to come? I doubted it. But if she did, it was only so she’d look good—probably knowing full well Jack would take her off the hook. Win-win for Celeste.
Jack’s expression saddened. “Come on, Samantha. Your mother loves you. Surely you know that.”
I knew Jack believed it, and I didn’t want to hurt him. But I didn’t want him to think I believed in that fiction. I put it as mildly as I could. “I think you see a different side of her than I do.”
He frowned briefly and looked away. It was an understatement, but it was the truth. Would he ever be able to see that? Or was it possible he already suspected it? I couldn’t tell. But even if he did, I didn’t think he’d ever know what a monster she really was. And maybe it was better this way. He got his dream. She got hers.
FIFTY-SIX
T
hat night, when the nurse
told me I could leave, I was so happy I raised an arm to do a fist pump—and almost ripped out the IV needle. The nurse shook her head as she removed it. “I’m probably talking to myself right now, but you need to take it easy. Your body’s been through a lot.” I nodded and tried to look compliant.
Her expression told me she wasn’t fooled. She probably got lied to as much as I did.
When Alex arrived to pick us up that night, I told him I didn’t think I’d ever been happier to see anyone in my whole life. He’d parked at the back door, which was empty at that time of night, to make sure no one saw us leave. We made it to Alex’s place in no time, and when he opened the door, Michelle and I stood in the doorway and stared. His apartment, decorated in a modern, minimalist style, was sparkling clean. “You didn’t have to spiff up for us, Alex.”
He looked puzzled. “I didn’t.”
I looked around at the spotless kitchen, the dustless living room. “You will not be allowed to see my place unless you’re drunk.”
Alex smiled. “Don’t worry. I don’t judge. Much.” Then his smile faded. “Sit down. I’ve got some bad news.”
Michelle and I sank down on the beige sofa in the living room. I didn’t know if I could take it. “What now?”
“Someone broke into your apartment. It’s . . . pretty bad. I couldn’t tell if anything was missing. But the place was really turned upside down. It looked like they were searching for something. Did you keep any files there?”
My heart began to pound. “No.” The import of it hit me like a sucker punch. The tiny sliver of hope I’d had that the fire wasn’t meant for me vanished. But there was an upside to that. “Then I was right. We’re onto something.” And it had to be something we’d gotten recently—something the public would know about. I forced my tired brain to backtrack. “Storm.”
Michelle nodded, her face pale and pinched with fatigue. “Right.”
Alex nodded. “Did you ever find out what he told the reporters off the record?”
“No. He never called me back.” I paused. “And I’m not sure he did say anything off the record. But maybe he didn’t need to.”
Michelle rubbed her temples. “That’s true. If we’re right about this, he obviously said enough to make someone think he was a threat.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “And Storm might know more than you—or he even realizes.”
I agreed. “But given what he said to the press, we know one thing for sure: my theory that Paige was the target must be close to the mark.”
Alex met my gaze. “Exactly.”
But that made it clear I couldn’t stay here. “I think I’d better go to a hotel, Alex. If they could find my apartment, they could find—”
“No, they couldn’t. Because I know how to hide.” He gave me a pointed look. “Remember how we met, Samantha.” He’d hidden those two BMWs beautifully. “No one knows where I live except my uncle. You’re safe here.”
“But we’ve got to tell the cops,” Michelle said.
“And we will,” I said. “Just not yet. Whoever’s after me won’t know where I am until I go back to court. That means we have tomorrow. And it’s all we’ve got, so I want to use it.” I’d been too thrashed to feel anything but pain and exhaustion. But now that I was better, I had energy to spare for anger, and it felt like a red-hot spike in my gut. Someone had tried to kill us—and destroy our evidence. And whoever that was wanted me to run and hide. Well, to hell with that. “I’m not just going to let the asshole who did this back me down. I don’t know if it’ll pan out. I just know I’ve got to see it through.” I looked from Alex to Michelle. “But you guys don’t have to go with me. This is
my
insanity. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”
Michelle still looked pale, but she shook her head. “Save it. I—” She had a coughing fit. When she’d recovered, she took a deep breath. “I’m going.”
Alex gave her a skeptical look. “Uh-huh.”
She waved him off. “I’ll be fine. One good night’s sleep away from that damn hospital and I’ll be good as new. What time are we getting up?”
I pulled my phone out of my purse. It was ten thirty. “I’d like to aim for seven thirty. Sound okay?”
They both nodded. Alex looked from me to Michelle. “Okay. You two can either share the foldout couch in the guest room, or one of you can sleep on this one.” He pointed to the sofa we were sitting on. It was nice to look at, but it was hard.
Michelle and I exchanged a look. “We’ll share,” I said.
We talked for a little while about our plans for tomorrow, then called it a night.
Michelle and I hadn’t shared a bed since we were in ninth grade, and I was always leery of sleeping with someone because I never knew when I’d wake up screaming. But it wasn’t a problem. We were so tired, we fell asleep within seconds, and I didn’t wake up until Alex knocked on the door the next morning.