The Simple Truth (51 page)

“Why in the hell didn’t he want me to know? I’m sick and tired of people not telling me things about my brother.”

“I’m sorry, John,”
the woman said,
“but he asked me not to say anything and I honored his request. That’s all. But now that he’s gone, I … I didn’t think it would hurt for you to know.”

“He saw Mom on Friday? Did he talk to you?”

“No, not really. He seemed a little nervous, actually. I mean, sort of anxious. He came really early and only stayed about a half hour.”

“So they talked?”

“They met. I don’t know how much they actually talked. Gladys can be difficult sometimes. When do you think you might stop by to see her? I mean, she couldn’t possibly know about Michael, but still she seems very depressed for some reason.”

It was clear to Fiske that the woman believed a mother’s link to her children could trump even the grip of Alzheimer’s.
“I’m really busy right — ”
Fiske broke off what he was saying. It would be a miracle if his mother could remember anything of any conversation she might have had with Mike that could possibly help them. But if she did?

“I’ll be right over.”

Fiske hung up the phone, picked up his briefcase and stuffed the stack of mail in there.

“Your brother visited your mom on the day he disappeared?”
McKenna asked. Fiske nodded.
“Then she might be able to tell us something.”

“McKenna, my mom has Alzheimer’s. She thinks John Kennedy is still president.”

“Okay, what about somebody who works there?”

Fiske wrote down an address and phone number on the back of one of his cards.
“But leave my mom out of it.”

“You’re going to see her, aren’t you? How come?”

“She’s my mother.”
Fiske disappeared out the door.

Hawkins looked over at McKenna.
“You ready to leave? Because I want to lock up. Don’t want anybody else coming in here and stealing any more stuff.”

The way Hawkins said it made McKenna blink. The guy couldn’t know that he had taken the gun, could he? Still, he felt guilty about it. But he had bigger things to feel guilty about. Far bigger.

Sara was stopped at a red light on her way to Fiske’s office when she saw him drive through the intersection heading west. She didn’t have time even to blow her horn. She thought about flagging him down, but a glimpse of his tense face stopped her. She turned right and followed him.

Thirty minutes later she slowed as Fiske’s car turned into the parking lot of a long-term care facility located in the West End of Richmond. Sara had been here once before, with Michael, to visit his mother. She kept her car hidden behind a broad-leaved evergreen next to the entrance and watched as Fiske stepped out of his car and hurried inside.

Fiske met up with Anne, the woman who had just called him, who apologized again and led him to the visitors’ lounge, where Gladys sat docilely in her pajamas and slippers. When Fiske appeared, she looked up and silently clapped her hands together.

Fiske sat down across from her, and Gladys put out her hands and tenderly touched his face. Her smile broadened, her eyes wide and catching absolutely nothing of reality.

“How’s my Mike? How’s Momma’s baby?”

He gently touched her hands.
“I’m fine. Doing good. Pop’s good too,”
he lied.
“We had a nice visit the other day, didn’t we?”

“Visits are
so
nice.”
She looked behind him and smiled. She often did that. It was hard keeping her attention. She was an infant now, the cycle complete.

She touched his cheek again.
“Your daddy was here.”

“When was that?”

She shook her head,
“Last year sometime. He got leave. His ship went down. Japs done it.”

“Really? He’s okay, isn’t he?”

She laughed long and loud.
“Oh yes, that man is A-okay.”
She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially,
“Mike, honey, can you keep a secret?”

“Sure, Mom,”
Fiske said hesitantly.

She looked around, blushing.
“I’m pregnant again.”

Fiske took a deep breath. This was a new one.
“Really? When did you find out?”

“Now, don’t you worry, sweetie, Momma’s got enough love to go around for all of you.”
She pinched his cheek and kissed his forehead.

He squeezed her hand and managed a smile.
“We had a good talk the other day, didn’t we?”
She nodded absently. This was crazy, he thought, but he was here and he might as well try.
“I had a good trip. You remember where I went?”

“You went to school, Mike, just like every day. Your daddy took you on his ship.”
She frowned.
“You be careful out there. Lot of fighting going on. Your daddy’s out fighting right now.”
She punched a fist in the air.
“Get ’em, Eddie.”

Fiske sat back and stared at her.
“I’ll be careful.”
Looking at her was like watching a portrait that was fading daily under unforgiving sunlight. Eventually, he would come to visit and all the paint would be gone, the only image left would come from his memory. And so life goes.
“I have to get going. I’m, uh, I’m late for school.”

“So pretty.”
She looked past him and waved.
“Hello, there.”
Fiske turned around and froze as he saw Sara standing there.

“I’m pregnant, honey,”
Gladys told her.

“Congratulations,”
was all Sara could think to say.

* * *

Fiske stormed down the hallway to the exit, Sara trailing him. He threw open the door so hard it smacked against the wall.

“John, will you stop and talk to me?”
she pleaded.

He whirled around.
“How dare you come and spy on me.”

“I wasn’t spying.”

“It’s none of your damn business.”
He pulled out his keys and got into his car. She jumped in.

“Get the hell out of my car.”

“I’m not budging until we talk about this.”

“Bullshit!”

“If you want me out, throw me out.”

“Damn you!”
Fiske shouted, before climbing out of the car.

Sara followed him.
“Damn
you
, John Fiske. Will you please stop running away and talk to me?”

“We’ve got nothing to talk about.”

“We have
everything
to talk about.”

He pointed an unsteady finger at her.
“Why the hell are you doing this to me, Sara?”

“Because I care about you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I think you do. I know you do.”

They stood there staring at each other.

“Can’t we go somewhere and talk about this? Please.”
She slowly walked around the car and stood next to him. Touching his arm, she said,
“If last night meant half as much to you as it did to me, we should at least be able to talk.”
She stood there, convinced that his response would be to climb in his car and drive out of her life.

Fiske looked at her for a moment, dropped his head and wearily leaned against his car. Sara’s hand slipped down to his and tightened around it. Fiske looked beyond her to a car parked on the road and the two men inside.
“We’ll have the Feds along for a ride.”
His manner and tone were now resigned. At least it wasn’t McKenna back there.

“Good, I’ll feel very safe,”
she said, her gaze refusing to leave his, until finally she saw she hadn’t lost him, at least for now.

They climbed in their cars and Sara followed Fiske to a small shopping mall about a mile away, where they sat at an outdoor table and sipped lemonade in the heat of the late afternoon.

“I can understand how you could hold that against your brother, although it’s not his fault,”
Sara said.

“Nothing was ever Mike’s fault,”
Fiske said bitterly.

“It’s not like your mother can help herself. It could just as easily be that she called Michael by your name.”

“Yeah, right. She chose not to remember me.”

“Maybe she calls you that because you visited her a lot more than Michael did and that’s her way of reacting to it.”

“I’m not buying that.”

Sara looked angry.
“Well, if you want to be jealous of your brother even now that he’s dead, then I guess that’s your right.”

Fiske settled a very cold gaze on her. She expected him to erupt. Instead, he said,
“I am, was, whatever, jealous of my brother. Who wouldn’t be?”

“But that doesn’t make it right.”

“Maybe it doesn’t,”
Fiske said, his voice tired. He looked away.
“The first time I visited Mom and she called me Mike, I thought it was a temporary thing, you know, she was having a real bad day. After two months of it …”
He paused.
“Well, that’s when I cut Mike off. For good. Everything that had ever ticked me off about him, no matter how stupid, I just blew up into a huge picture of this evil sonofabitch with no heart, nothing good. He had taken my mother away from me.”

“John, the day we came to see you at trial, I went with Michael to see your mother.”

He tensed.
“What?”

“Your mother wouldn’t even talk to him. He brought her a gift, she wouldn’t take it. He told me she was always like that. He assumed that it was because she loved you so much, that she didn’t care about him”

“You’re lying,”
Fiske said in a hushed tone.

“No, I’m not. It’s the truth.”

“You’re lying!”
he said again, more forcefully.

“Ask some of the people who work there. They know.”

A few minutes of silence passed. Fiske’s head was bowed. When he looked back up, he said,
“I never really thought about him losing his mother too.”

“Are you sure about that?”
Sara asked quietly.

Fiske stared at her, his hands clenched.
“What do you mean?”
he said, his voice shaking.

“What stopped you from talking to your brother? Michael told me you had shut him out, and you just admitted that. Even so, I can’t believe you never knew how she treated him.”

For a full minute Fiske said nothing. He stared at Sara, perhaps through her; his eyes revealed nothing of what he was thinking. Finally, he closed his eyes and said in a barely audible tone,
“I knew.”

He looked at her. The terrible pain on his features made her tremble.

“I just didn’t want to care,”
Fiske said. Sara gripped his shoulder tightly.
“I guess I used it as an excuse not to have anything to do with my own brother.”
He took another deep breath.
“There’s something else. Mike did call me, before he went to the prison. I didn’t call him back. Not until it was too late.… I killed him.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that.”
Sara’s words had no effect, she could see that, so she changed tactics.
“If you want to blame yourself, then do it for the right reason. You unfairly cut your brother out of your life. You were wrong to do that. Very wrong. Now he’s gone. That’s something you’ll have to live with forever, John.”

Now he looked at her. His face grew calmer.
“I guess I’ve been living with it already.”

Since he had confided in her, Sara decided it was only fair to reciprocate.
“I saw your father today.”
Before Fiske could say anything, she hurried on.
“I promised you I would. I told him what really happened.”

“And he believed you,”
Fiske said skeptically.

“I was telling the truth. He’s going to call you.”

“Thanks, but I wish you had kept out of it.”

“He filled in some gaps for me.”

“Like what?”
Fiske said sharply.

“Like what happened to make you stop being a cop.”

“Dammit, Sara, you had no need to know that.”

“Yes, I did. A great reason.”

“What is it?”

“You know what!”

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Fiske looked down at the table too, and fiddled with his straw. Finally, he sat back and crossed his arms.
“So my dad told you everything?”

Sara glanced up at him.
“About the shooting, yes.”
Her tone was cautious.

“So you know I’m probably not going to be alive and kicking when I’m sixty or maybe even fifty.”

“I think you can beat any odds someone throws at you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t, that doesn’t matter to me.”

He leaned forward.
“But it matters to me, Sara.”

“So you give up the life you do have?”

“I think I’m leading my life exactly how I want to.”

“Maybe you are,”
she quietly conceded.

“It would never work, you know.”

“So you’ve thought about it?”

“I’ve thought about it. Have you? How do you know this isn’t another impulse decision? Like buying your house?”

“It’s what I feel.”

“Feelings change.”

“And it’s so much easier to admit defeat rather than work at something.”

“When I want something, I work very hard at it.”
Fiske had no idea why he said that, but he saw the devastated look on Sara’s face.

“I see. And I guess I have no choice in the matter?”

“You really don’t want to have to make that kind of a choice.”
She said nothing and Fiske remained quiet for a moment.
“You know, my dad didn’t tell you everything, because he doesn’t know everything.”

“He told me how you almost died, how the other officer did die. And the man who shot you. I can understand how that could change your life. How it could make you do what you do. I think it’s very noble, if that’s the right word.”

“That’s not even close. Do you really want to know why I do what I do?”

Sara could sense the sudden change of mood.
“Tell me.”