Chapter 36 – January 16 to December 13, 1988: Part I

The next morning, I emerge from the bedroom and find Colin sitting on the floor watching Alex play with blocks, a closed textbook next to him. His legs are crossed, bare feet protruding from navy pajama pants. A gray t-shirt hugs his biceps, and stubble creates a shadow against his normally clean-shaven face.

He looks at me, and I smile as I watch him stand gracefully–reminding me of the way he danced at our wedding.

He closes the space between us, his arms outstretched. "Morning, beautiful. What are you smiling at?"

"You." I hug him and exhale as he wraps his arms around me. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Not much. How are you?"

I pull back slightly. "I'm fine."

He raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah."

He cocks his head. "How?"

I rub his back before picking up Alex. "Hey, girl. Was Daddy reading to you from one of his textbooks?"

Alex babbles and hits me lightly before pointing to a block.

"Blocks?"

Alex babbled again.

"Okay. Blocks." I set her back on her mat, and look at Colin. "I have the most amazing daughter and the most loving husband."

Colin grins. "True."

I shrug. "That's how."

He follows me as I sit on the couch and watch Alex bang a block against the mat. "So…” he says, “how long do you think this is going to last? This optimism, or denial, or whatever this is?"

I place my hand on his. "Lassio was right. My father left, and my mother did use me, if not that night then certainly plenty of other nights. And maybe Lassio was a complicated guy… an unwanted orphan whose wife died unexpectedly, leaving him with a kid who he didn't want. I'm not saying that excuses any of it. He’s still a monster. I'm just saying that–" I sigh heavily. "He's dead. It's over. I don't have to waste any energy on him anymore."

I look at Alex, then back at Colin. "I like the life I have now. I just want to focus on that."

"Okay." He rubs his thumb across my knuckles. "But there's one part of this that still really bothers me."

"Pete."

“Yes.”

"Me too. Finding me at LFI. Knowing Daly was sick… There is something unsettling about him now."

"That's one word for it," Colin says flatly, and I can feel his protectiveness surrounding me.

"I told him that if he showed up unannounced again, I would call the police,” I reassure him. “He's happy that I gave him everything. I think he'll leave us alone now."

"Maybe reactivate a little of that hypervigilance again, just for a bit,” Colin says.

I smile, lean forward, and kiss him. Hesitantly, he holds my face with both hands. I press my palms against his shoulders, pushing him down, and follow him with my body. For a few seconds, I hold myself above him, lost in a series of kisses.

He pulls back. "You're really okay?"

I nod. "I love you."

He sighs with relief. "I love you too, Ra’Shelle."

I place my forehead against his. "You should sleep."

***

A few days later, I stand tall as I enter Community Bank. After speaking with six people, an account manager finally explains that Richard Dawson opened the account in June 1967, shortly after I was born. There was a monthly deposit of ten dollars until February 1976.

“You had 3,766 dollars and eighty-four cents after the compound interest,” the manager tells me, “but you received a deposit yesterday. That’s the first one in over twelve years.”

I furrow my brow. “For how much?”

“Looks like… 642 dollars.”

“Can you tell me who deposited the money?”

“That would be… Lorez, Kyndal, and Lowell Law Firm.”

I roll my eyes. “Great.”

***

Tom and Professor Truman collaborate to convince the university’s administration that I should continue my internship at LFI during the summer and my senior year. Thus, I only need one class during the summer and three each of the other semesters, allowing me more time with Alex. Truthfully, I could graduate in December, but I want to keep my scholarship one more semester.

We spend most of the summer with Colin's dad, who gives us a gift certificate for a weekend in a lake cabin, which we happily accept. It’s the first time we’re away from Alex, and the quiet of the cabin is beyond relaxing. Nearly the entire weekend consists of sleep and lovemaking.

Upon returning to the dorm, we move into a two-bedroom suite.

"I'm glad we'll have some privacy again," Colin says, winking at me.

"I'm glad that I'll be less likely to step on a Megablock," I add.

Mr. Brown, Tom, Kari, Derek, and Shannon all come to the dorm to celebrate Alex's first birthday. Colin and I haven’t seen Derek for several months, and he tells us about being captain of the football team and that he’s decided to major in recreation studies. Shannon's major remains undeclared.

After more than a year at LFI, I become Marjorie's second hand, at least for the ten hours each week that I’m there. By October, I’ve beaten Tom at 151 of the 228 chess games we’ve played together.

Life is good.

***

Gradually, fall transitions to winter, and finals quickly approach. One cold Tuesday evening, Colin is studying at the library, and I’m hunched over the living room desk, wearing cargo pants and a BSU sweatshirt. The baby monitor sits next to me, and I listen to Alex silently sleep.

There’s a sharp knock on my door. My muscles go rigid, and I listen. The knock comes again.

"Colin?"

Silence.

"Who is it?"

Silence.

I’m expecting to see one of my obnoxious neighbors' equally obnoxious kids, but when I open the door, I find a man with sapphire eyes and blond bangs, partly shielded by a bulky hoodie.

"Did you miss me?" he asks with a smile.

"Can't say that I have, and this isn't a good time."

I begin to shut the door, but he hits his Dr. Martens against the frame. "Invite me in, Ra'Shelle."

"Move your foot and call me next time."

He looks in both directions before reaching behind him and pulling a revolver from under his hoodie. He points it at me, but keeps it close to his hip. "Invite me in."

I quickly run through my options, all terrible, before stepping aside. "Why don't you come in?"

He walks past me, and I leave the door slightly ajar. My heart pounds against my sternum. Feigning apathy, I point at the gun. "That seems unnecessary. What do you want?"

He grins. "What makes you think I want anything?"

"Fine,” I sigh. “What are you doing here?"

"Ah,” he says, gesturing with his gun. “That's a better question."

I’m still close to the door, six feet from him. "Why don't you holster that thing, and I’ll find you something to drink."

He lowers the gun and holds it close to his leg. "What happened to us, Ra'Shelle?"

"Maybe you're thinking we were closer than we really were."

"No. We were friends."

I study him. I’m at a complete disadvantage. He’s between me and Alex's bedroom, between me and the phone, and I know he won’t be easily distracted. I’m at his mercy, of which, I suspect, he has very little. I sigh. "It was a long time ago, Pete."

"I suppose."

"How did you know Daly was sick?"

He shrugs. "Everyone knew."

I smile, hoping to lure him in. "No, they didn't. How'd you find out?"

He returns the smile and raises his hands, the revolver pointed at the ceiling. "You know I’m charismatic. I used my charms."

He lowers his hands again and takes a step closer. "I told Daly that I was on his side and invited him to grab a drink. A few drinks in, he told me everything: the cancer, the other cold cases, and you. He talked about you for an hour. Guilt-ridden bastard was just waiting for someone to give him alcohol."

"So they weren't suicides," I say flatly.

He shrugs. "Sure they were."

"At gunpoint."

His voice becomes progressively louder. "Why are you ruining this? I did them for you, Ra'Shelle. I did it all for you!"

I furrow my brow. “What? Why?”

“I thought you were a victim. I felt bad for you. You were a kid! You shouldn’t have had to go through that!

“But then you were in the will, and it kept nagging at me. Why would he leave everything to a victim? I thought that that night was the first night, and I have felt nothing but guilt ever since. But it wasn’t the first night, was it Ra'Shelle?”

Adrenaline soars through my body. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "We’ve talked about this already. It was, Pete; I swear it was."

He shakes the gun. "Don’t lie to me! I saw the letter!"

“What letter?”

“The letter Dad left you. I read it! Lorez made a copy, and he gave it to me.”

“Then you know that was the first night.”

Pete raises his gun again. “No, it wasn’t! He talked all about how you helped him after Mom was diagnosed. How you and Florence supported him. She was dying, and you were–you were–while she was dying, Ra'Shelle!”

I slowly shake my head. “Pete, none of that is in the letter. It isn’t true.”

“I read it!”

I place my hands above my shoulders. “I believe you read a letter, but it’s not the same letter I have. I can prove it; the letter is in that plastic tub in the corner. See for yourself.”

Still pointing the gun in my direction, he opens the container and finds the pouch and the letter. “No, this isn’t the same letter. What is this?”

“It’s the letter, Pete,” I say. “It’s the only one I read.”

“You’re lying. You wrote this!”

“Why would I do that, Pete?”

“To trick me! To make yourself look innocent!”

I can’t help but scoff. “On the off chance that you show up one night? C’mon, Pete.”

“But he couldn’t have written this. Your dad didn’t abandon you. His family did want you… I didn’t… Look at this paragraph you wrote about me. Is that how you see me, Ra'Shelle? You think I’m like him?”

“I didn’t write that, Pete, but you do have me at gunpoint right now. That’s definitely not something your mother would do.”

“My mother was a saint!” he barks.

“I understand. I agree. She was amazing.”

Pete shakes the papers. “This isn’t the letter!”

“It is Pete. I promise.”

He drops the gun close to his side and takes a step forward. "Were you fucking him while Mom was dying?"

The question’s vulgarity startles me, and I catch my breath. "No." I keep his gaze. "He didn't rape me while your mother was still alive."

"My mother deserved better!"

My heartbeat pulsates in my ears, and my stomach falls. "I liked your mother."

He steps dramatically closer, pushing me nearly against the wall. "You know nothing about my mother!" he growls.

"Okay."

“I thought you were the victim, Ra'Shelle!”

“I was, Pete. I am.”

“I believed you. I killed for you!” He waves the gun at me. “I killed them for you, Ra'Shelle. For you! Because I believed you! Dad, Gabriel, Tillerman, they were all for you! And the rest were just–” He holds his hands against his head, the gun pointed at the ceiling again. “They were shit people, cockroaches infesting society.”

He takes a breath, his voice suddenly calm. "Plus, the police believed it was Daly. They didn’t even consider other possibilities. It was easy to walk away. I was supposed to just walk away!"

"So why jeopardize that to come after me now?" I ask.

He steps closer. "You lied to me. You didn’t appreciate me and everything I did for you. But especially because of what you did to my mother!”

“Pete, this isn’t you,” I say calmly, hoping to diffuse his irrational anger. “I know it’s not. Did something happen tonight?”

“Yeah, my eyes were opened, so I can finally see you for who you are.”

“When did you receive the letter, Pete? Did you receive it tonight?”

He takes two steps toward me. “Stop asking questions! You can’t talk yourself out of this! I won’t fall for your lies again.”

“You have bad information, Pete,” I say slowly. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Enough!” Standing a few inches from me, he begins stroking my cheek. "Tell me, Ra'Shelle, did you enjoy being the queen?"

I slide my left hand into my pocket. "I’m only a pawn, Pete."

He holds my jaw tightly. "What a fucking waste."

He takes half a step back and the barrel stares at me. "Never see you, Ra'Shelle."

I close my eyes.

I love you, Colin. This is for you, Alex.

In a quick, fluid motion, I duck, pull the stun gun from my pocket, aim for his body, and press the trigger.

A scream. A gunshot. A crying baby.