Chapter Thirty Three
The Taxi drops me at Fran’s. The restaurant is cl
os
ed and the
p
arking lot across from
the restaurant is e
m
pty exce
p
t
f
or
m
y car and Vinnie Patcher’s car. I drive to the
K
enilwo
r
th Community hospital. I
’
m not sure why I’m
do
i
ng this. It
’
s not as though I pushed Belle Patcher over that railing, but I feel that so
m
ehow my pushing
for answers is part of the chain of events that drove her to jump. I’m
not a disinterested bystander. Whether I
’
ve been drawn into t
h
eir li
v
es or they
’
ve been drawn into
m
ine is of no consequence and little
sola
c
e.
Vinnie Pat
c
her is
s
lu
m
ped on a cou
c
h in the e
m
pty ER waiti
n
g roo
m
, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. He sees
m
e and doesn
’
t
move. I sit on a chair across from
h
i
m
and wait. April’s suitcase and a pile of
her clothes is on the seat next to hi
m
.
“She hates
m
e. I love her
m
ore than life and she hates
m
e. All I ever wanted to do was protect her,
m
ake her happy.
Everything I
’
ve done is for her.”
“Is she badly hurt?
W
hat does the doctor say?”
He jerks upright, his flaccid spine now straight as a r
u
ler. “I
’
m
not talking about my wi
f
e. I’m tal
k
ing ab
o
ut April
.
”
“
W
here is
s
he?”
He gestures at a si
g
n pointing to
the la
d
ies
b
athroom
and collapses back into the couch. I run around the corner and bang open the swinging door. April is looking in the
m
i
rror, a
m
ascara wand in her hand. Her cos
m
etics are spread out on the s
m
all
m
etal sh
e
lf over the
s
i
n
k.
“
W
hat do you want?”
“Answers.”
I swipe
m
y arm
over the shelf and knock everything on the
f
l
oor.
“Bitch” April hisses as she drops to h
e
r knees, reaching for the rolling tubes and brushes.
I grab her by the back of her sweater,
haul her to her feet
and shove her into a stall and d
o
wn onto the t
o
il
e
t se
at
. I reach behind and push the l
o
ck i
n
to pl
a
ce.
“
W
hat is it with you?
You just gave away your baby, your
m
other tried to kill herself, your father is sitting out there looking like a broken
m
a
n and you’re in here putting on
m
akeup
?
” I shake her shoulders. “Answer
m
e.”
“I don’t know.” She starts to cry and hold her sto
m
ach. “My sto
m
ach hurts. I need a doct
o
r.”
“Quit your
p
l
ay acting. I’m all the d
o
c
t
or you’re going to g
e
t until you a
n
swer
m
y questions. What were you and Ben doing in
the Sierras when he killed hi
m
self.”
“It was your idea. ‘Take so
m
e t
i
m
e
off’, you said. ‘Have the honey
m
oon you never had’.” Her voice is a
girlish sing song. “
W
e
didn’t go
w
hen you told us to. Ben wanted to stay ho
m
e and study. All we did w
a
s fight.
I told him
I couldn’t stay cooped up in
m
y house any longer. I told him to quit before he got fired. Go back to Safeway,
m
ake so
m
e money so we could
m
ove out. But no, he had to do better for his baby.
S
o I told hi
m
.”
“Told him
what
?
”
“That the baby wasn’t his. That I didn’t
know who the father was. That I hated him
and I hated the baby. I told him I was sorry I
m
arried
him, and as soon as I gave the baby up, I was going to file for divorce.”
“
W
hat did he do?”
“Started to cry. Begged
m
e not to leave hi
m
. Said he didn’t believe the baby wasn’t his. Pro
m
ised he would get his old
job back. All sorts of stuff. Only Safeway wasn’t hiring, so he took so
m
e t
e
m
p job in
a warehouse.” I lean away
from the stall door. The door handle has left a pai
n
ful indentation in my back.
“That’s why we went to the Sierras. To the Hide-A
w
ay
M
otel. The only thing they hid away was the sha
m
poo and the clean s
h
eets. Ben wanted to
m
ake it up to
m
e
. Have so
m
e
fun. Only staying in a s
h
itty motel in the
m
i
ddle of nowhe
r
e isn’t my idea of fun. Anyhow,
I
m
et so
m
e
one else online and told Ben I was leaving, no
m
atter what. He didn’t believe
m
e then either, so I sho
w
ed him
on my co
m
puter.”
“Showed him what
?
”
“The pictures I posted on Facebook, the
sexting I sent this other guy. Actually, there was
m
ore than one, but I only really liked this one guy. Even though I was pregnant, he thought I
w
as way sexy.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“First you
w
ant
m
e to talk and now you don’t. You are freaking crazy.”
She stands up and tries to push past
m
e to get at the lock. I push her back onto the seat.”Did you shoot Ben
?
”
“You are so fucked up. How can you be a
psychologist? I did not shoot hi
m
. He started playing around with his g
u
n. Said if I left him
he’d kill hi
m
self. I told him,
‘go ahead, I don’t care’. And then I left. Took the car. So I guess that’s when he did it. Now can I go
?
”
“You didn’t call the pol
i
ce or try to get help?”
“I was afraid he’d kill
m
e, too, if I tri
e
d to stop hi
m
. Anyhow, if he wants to off hi
m
self, that’s his ch
o
ice. It’s a free world.”
I sit in
m
y car, shaking. I should write t
h
is up. A teenage Jezebel. A f
a
m
ily of psychopaths. Poor Ben, what agony. Everything he hoped for torn away.
I’m
exhausted, but I drive to headquarters
in the dark and park
m
y car. I can see Eddie behind the glass window at the front
desk. He’s slumped over, sleeping. The lobby is e
m
pty. I tap on the glass and he jerks upri
g
ht. It takes him
a
m
i
nute to figure out where he is.
“
W
hat the fuck are you doing here? You’re
not supposed to be in this building.”
“So arrest me for trespassing.”
“
W
hat do you want?”
“I guess turnaround’s fair play.”
“
W
hat the hell are you talking about
?
”
“I didn’t tell you about taking April ho
m
e
or about Vinnie Patcher breaking into my house, because I was trying to protect you.
B
ut you knew all along who Ben was and you didn’t tell
m
e. You just kept on hounding him until he
b
r
oke.”
He
raises up out of his chair and
leans forward, breathing s
m
all clouds of moisture on the thick glass window. “I re
p
eat. What the fuck are you talking about
?
”
“Ben Go
m
e
z, a.k.a. Ben S
t
urgis?
His parents overdosed on so
m
e bad heroin in a motel. So
m
e
one found him wandering around the parking lot crying and called the police. His grandparents adopted him
and changed his na
m
e to theirs.” Eddie scowls. “You were there, apparently. Don’t you re
m
e
m
b
er or have you totally pickled your brain with alcoh
o
l?”
He takes a long wheezy gulp of air and then po
u
nds his fist
o
n the desk. “Sonofabitch. Sonofabitch. I knew it. That fucking
eyebrow. I knew I knew hi
m
. Sturgis. The goddamn Sturgis case.” He looks up at
m
e
. “He tried to run away, fell and split his head open, right through the eye
b
row. Screa
m
ing for his parents, ‘the police are here, the police are here’. Fuckers used him
as a lookout
w
h
ile they shot up in that rat trap
m
otel. I held that kid
with
m
y h
a
nd over his bloody head
until the s
o
cial wor
k
ers
got there. It was the
longest
30
m
i
nutes
of
m
y
life. I saw him a few weeks later during the inquest. The scar was already beginning to show. God, I’m
a wo
r
t
hless cop. I should have recognized that scar.”