Night Vision (30 page)

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Authors: Ellen Hart

BOOK: Night Vision
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“Richfield?” said Joanna, giving Freddy a confused look. “What on earth was Cordelia doing there?” For a brief moment, she wondered if the fact that she'd pulled out of the production at the theater had prompted this moment of insanity, but then she remembered Cordelia's reaction to Eugenia's name. Maybe it was the problems over Hattie that had caused a mental break. “I need to see her.”
“As I said, she's very weak. I can only let one of you in at a time.”
“You go,” said Freddy.
Joanna followed the nurse back through a locked door. The patient cubicles circled the main emergency desk. When she finally entered the room, she saw that a curtain had been drawn around the bed. The lights were low.
Pulling the curtain back, the nurse said, “I'll be right outside. Anything you need, just ask.”
Joanna was about to say thanks when she realized the woman lying in the bed wasn't Cordelia. “Who—” She turned to the nurse, but she'd already gone.
“Don't go,” came a tiny voice.
The woman was hooked up to all sorts of monitors. She was being given blood through a tube taped to her hand. Her skin looked deathly pale.
“Who are you?” asked Joanna, keeping her distance. She hated hospitals. Her first reaction on seeing that it wasn't Cordelia was to bolt.
She couldn't be sure this wasn't a setup, a way to draw her out of the loft into the open. And yet, staring at the strange woman, it hardly seemed possible.
“You don't remember me,” said a tiny, flat voice. “Why would you?”
Joanna could hardly hear her. She took a couple of steps closer. “Have we met?”
“Hillary. The journalist. Remember? Flying Cloud? We talked. You were nice to me. I thought … we were friends.”
Joanna looked down, shook her head. And then she remembered. “Of course.” As her eyes met Hillary's, she realized she had absolutely no idea why she was here. “Why did you have the hospital call
me
?”
Gazing up at Joanna with a strangely satisfied smile on her face, Hillary whispered, “You came. I knew you would.”
Joanna might be a little slow on the uptake, but she got it now. “You gave the nurse Cordelia's name because you knew if I thought she was in the emergency room, I'd come.”
“I'm so glad you're here.”
Joanna was at a complete loss. The summons
was
a ruse. Was the suicide attempt a ruse too? “Why did you … do it?”
Hillary closed her eyes. After a long moment, she said, “I couldn't stop.”
“You couldn't stop what?”
“Cutting.”
“You
wanted
to end your life?”
A nod.
“Is it that awful, that hopeless?”
“
I'm
hopeless,” she whispered. “Worthless. Nothing I want ever comes true.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing very much.” Looking up at Joanna, she bit her lip. “A small thing, really. I want you to love me.”
“What?” Joanna felt like someone had just hit her with a brick. “We're strangers.”
“No, we're not. You listened when I talked about my dreams. You understood. Tell me I'm wrong.”
“Well—”
“Will you hold my hand? Just for a minute. I won't ask for anything else. Please?” Her eyes pleaded.
“Hillary, I don't—”
“Yes, you do. You know me. You
are
me. We're sisters.”
Before Joanna could stop herself, she'd moved up to the bed and covered Hillary's hand with her own. “How's that?”
“Good,” she whispered. Looking up at Joanna with tears in her eyes, she said, “It's really you, right? I'm not dreaming this?”
“It's really me,” said Joanna, a bewildered look on her face. “I'm sorry you felt you had no other choice but to … I mean … the cuts … you didn't do it just to—” No, thought Joanna, that was way the hell too far beyond the pale.
“Yes,” whispered Hillary. “That was part of it.” Turning her head away, she withdrew her hand. “You better go. You're important. You've got important things to do.”
“I can stay a few more minutes.”
“No, I want you to go.”
“Why?”
“Because … because I'm
pathetic,
that's why. You think this is the first time I've tried it?”
“Isn't it?”
“I told you, I'm worthless. I bought all these clothes so that when I interviewed you, you'd think I was cool. But then you nixed it because you knew I'm not any of that. I'm an impostor. I hate myself. I'm not like you at all. I just pretend. It works for a while, but then … I know inside what I really am and I want to puke my guts out!”
“Hillary—”
“Do you have any idea how much I love you? I'd do anything for you.
Anything.
”
Joanna felt crushed by the weight of the comment. How could
something so empty feel so heavy? “But don't you have other relationships—a boyfriend? A family?”
“All my boyfriend wants from me is sex. As for my dad, I'd be happier if he were six feet under.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because of what he did—what he
is.
”
Joanna felt she knew what was coming next. But she had the sense that Hillary wanted her to ask. “Did he molest you when you were a child?”
“What? Christ, no,” she rasped. “If he'd ever touched me I would have killed him. It's what he did to my girlfriend. We were thirteen. He raped her. She said it was all her idea, but I knew she was just lying to make it all go away.”
“How do you know he raped her?”
“I heard her crying, walked in on them. I never told anyone. Just like my friend. I took the easy way out. But I told you now. I trust you, Joanna. You're the only one who knows my secret. Doesn't that mean something?”
“Where was your mother when it happened?”
“At work. I hated her, too. She's dead now and that's just fine with me. My job sucks. I don't have a single friend I care about. All I care about is
you,
and you're too goddamn important to give me the time of day.”
“Hillary, you can't actually expect me to … I mean, if all the people who consider themselves fans of mine expected me to love them … it's impossible.”
“So go. Get out.”
“You have to be reasonable, think about this rationally.”
“No, I don't. I think with my heart. That's who I am. I thought we were soul mates, but I see now that we're not. You're cold, Joanna. You don't care about anyone but yourself.”
“That's not true.” She didn't know why, but she felt like she was pleading for her life. “All I am is an actor. I'm not the parts I play in movies. I'm not heroic. I can't be expected to take care of people I
don't even know.” She felt like she was in a cage with a herd of wild animals all trying to rip chunks out of her flesh.
The nurse burst back into the cubicle. “I'm sorry, but you've got to keep your voice down.” She gave Joanna a stern look.
“I can't do this,” said Joanna, feeling as if every fuse in her brain was about to blow. Turning, she rushed out of the room.
“Y
ou be the good cop and I'll be the bad cop,” said Cordelia.
“Not a good idea,” said Jane, striding down the hall toward Faye's loft. They'd already tried Milan's place, but he was either out or refusing to talk to them. “We want answers. That means we need her cooperation.”
Jane knocked on the door, glad Cordelia didn't own an Uzi. “She's in there,” whispered Cordelia. “I can smell the smoke. Carcinogen city. We should get hazard pay for going in there.”
Jane knocked again. The door finally cracked open, revealing a thin slice of Faye's face.
“Cordelia?” she said, a question mark in her voice. “I thought … I mean, how are you feeling?”
“Me? Fine.”
“Are you sure? 'Cause I thought …” Her voice trailed off.
“Thought what?”
“Oh, nothing. I guess … I guess I'm confused.” A cigarette dangled from her mouth. She took a drag, then blew smoke out her nose. “Kind of late for a social call.”
“Can we come in?” asked Jane.
Faye regarded Cordelia a moment more, then said, “'Spose so.
You're in luck, ladies. Just took some chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. I always bake when I can't sleep.”
“Cookies,” said Cordelia, sniffing the air, then coughing as the Chesterfields clogged her airways.
On her way to the kitchen, Faye said, “Did you know Joanna and that piss bag ex-husband of hers left the building 'bout half an hour ago?”
Cordelia did a double take. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope,” said Faye, piling some of the warm cookies onto a plate. “Here, I got milk.”
“No thanks,” said Jane. “Did Joanna tell you why she was leaving?”
“Since the piss bag arrived, she hasn't had much time for me.”
“I wonder where they went?” said Cordelia, helping herself to the biggest cookie on the plate.
“I saw them get into a limo together,” said Faye, staring hard at Cordelia for a long moment, then shaking her head. “Watched out my back window, I did. Wouldn't think she'd leave the safety of the building since she got another flower delivery this afternoon.”
“Look, Faye,” said Jane. “We know you have a key to Joanna's loft.”
“Who told you that?”
“Tammi Bonifay.”
“Oh. Well, yeah. I got one. So what?”
“You ever go in there when Joanna wasn't around?”
“What are you insinuating?”
“Someone broke the mirror in Joanna's bathroom earlier this evening, and then wrote a message in lipstick on what was left of it.”
“Yeah? So?”
“You don't act very surprised,” said Cordelia, her right hand hovering next to the plate, waiting for Faye to look away so she could snatch another cookie.
“I'm not surprised by anything that happens to that woman.”
“Whoever wrote the message didn't break in,” said Jane. “The person had a key.”
“Tammi probably gave keys to other folks.”
“Just one,” said Jane. “But the man gave it back.”
“What did you mean when you wrote, ‘I own you'?” Cordelia asked.
Go right for the jugular, thought Jane.
“Don't know what you're talking about,” said Faye.
“And the flowers. You sent all of them, right?”
“No law against sending flowers—if I did, which I didn't. Most people'd look upon it as a kindness.”
They tried a few more questions, but Jane realized they were getting nowhere, so she yanked Cordelia away from the cookies and said good night.
“We could have pressed her harder,” said Cordelia on the way to the elevator. “She knows more than she's telling.”
“I get that same feeling, but we can't beat it out of her.”
Cordelia grunted. “I could have
leaned
on her a little.”
“Cordelia!”
They returned to her loft. As Jane sat down at the computer and Cordelia retreated to the bathroom to soak in the tub, her cell phone rang again. She checked the caller ID but didn't recognize the number. “Hello,” she said, checking the e-mail at her office.
“Is this Jane Lawless?”
It was a man. She didn't recognize the voice. “Yes?”
“We met yesterday at the Brass Rail. You showed me a picture of a guy. David Carlson. I know where he is.”
A gust of hope blew into her chest. “Where?”
“I want two hundred bucks, okay?”
“No problem. Just tell me where to come.”
He repeated the address. It was a hotel on Hennepin, one she'd never heard of. Most of the downtown hotels on Hennepin were flophouses. “I'll be there in ten minutes.”
“Room two oh four. Knock twice.”
“Is David okay?”
“You'll see when you come.” The line disconnected.
Jane shot off her chair and grabbed her car keys and her jeans jacket. “Cordelia, I'm leaving. Take care of Mouse, okay?”
She didn't wait for a response. She charged down the back steps
and jumped into her Mini. She found a parking place in a lot half a block from the hotel and rushed up the steps to the second floor. The smell of stale smoke, sour sweet, ancient dirt, and urine hung in the air. She tried to swallow back her revulsion, but with all the emotions swirling around inside her, she felt like she had a basset hound stuck in her chest. She knocked twice on the door and waited.
The man with the tin-colored hair opened the door a crack, then slipped out into the hall. “You got the money?” He was excruciatingly thin, with the kind of yellowish skin that came from spending every waking moment indoors, probably sitting at a bar. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his T-shirt, as if he had biceps he wanted to show off.
Jane pulled her wallet out of her back pocket.
The man chewed his lips as she counted out ten twenty-dollar bills. She was glad he hadn't asked for more because the two hundred pretty much cleaned her out.
“Found him in an alley,” he said, pocketing the money. “He'd passed out. He doesn't belong here. But if you don't help him, this is where he'll end up—or under a bridge sleeping on a piece of cardboard. I like him. Figure, with a friend like you, he's got a chance. I don't want him here when I get back. Understood?”
Jane nodded.
“Tell him … tell him I said good-bye, okay?”
Jane watched him disappear down the stairs, then turned and entered the room. There was only one light on inside, on the nightstand next to the bed, and it was pretty dim. She glanced around for another one to turn on, but there weren't any. The bed was made. Two empty gin bottles sat on the window ledge next to it. Squinting into the semidarkness, she saw David sitting in a chair next to a beat-up love seat. His face was turned away from her, but he was awake, smoking.
She let the stillness settle in between them for a few seconds. “David?” she said finally. “I came to take you home.” Moving a few steps closer, she saw that one side of his face was scraped and raw. She felt a sudden sadness expand inside her chest.
She wasn't sure what he'd say or do. She remembered Nolan's warning, asking her to contact him before she met with David. But all
that faded away. It was just the two of them. The way it should be. “Did you hear me?”
A rocky moment followed as her words hung in the air.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Remember when we first met?”
He'd given her an opening. It was something she could work with. “Sure I do. Like it was yesterday.”
“It was at a dance. I'd seen you running track, thought you were pretty hot. So I cut in. We danced four more songs together. I charmed you with the wonderfulness of me, then we went outside. It was fall. We walked over to the football field and sat on the bleachers.”
“You tried to kiss me.”
“I
did
kiss you. Do you remember what you said?”
Jane struggled to recall. “That—”
“You said it was
nice.
Nice! So I asked you if you wanted me to kiss you again.”
“How did I respond?”
He smiled. “
Not really,
you said. That's a quote. I was shattered.”
“I doubt that.”
“And then, just to push a little more, I said, hell, don't you like guys? For Christ's sake, I was a football jock. Prime pickings.”
“And I said I liked them well enough.”
“Precisely. Not a glowing recommendation. So, as a joke, I asked if you liked girls better. And there was
that long pause.
If you hadn't paused, Jane, our lives would never have connected. We told each other the truth that night. It was one of the most important nights of my life. It's amazing, really. One minute you're alone in the universe and then circuits connect.”
When he looked up at her, she knew with total certainty that those blue eyes of his were still wired to her soul. “Let's tell the truth again. Right now, Davey.”
With a straight face, he said, “Okay. I finally figured it out. I've got a vitamin deficiency, Jane. That's all. Low on my B complex.”
“Don't start joking around. Not now. Be serious.”
“That's all I ever am these days. And I'm sick of it.”
“Let me take you home.”
“You don't like this place?” He spread his arms wide.
“No, I don't.”
“Whose home are we talking about? Your home? Aren't you afraid I'll burn it down? Blow it up?”
“No. I'm not afraid. Are you?”
“Yes!” he screamed. “I'm terrified! You want the truth, that's it!”
Jane felt a heavy ache behind her eyes.
“And I'll give you one more piece of truth if you're interested. I didn't kill Luberman.” He took a hit off the cigarette. “That's the one thing I figured out sitting here in this dump. I was awake when I found him in the staircase. Awake when I stomped on him. He was already dead. But I totally lost it when I called you. I couldn't seem to get my bearings. And then I took off, trashed your bathroom, left you to clean it up. I'm sorry, Jane. Might as well make ‘I'm sorry' my mantra.”
“What about the knife?” she said, squeezing her hands to fists inside her jacket pockets.
“What knife?”
“The one you took from my kitchen drawer.”
He frowned, looked confused.
“It's molded stainless steel, all one piece, with a dimpled handle.”
Light came into his eyes. “Oh, that. I wondered where it came from. It was in my duffel when I opened it at Joanna's apartment. I didn't want it, so I put it in one of her kitchen drawers. Why? What's so important about the knife?”
David had never been a good liar. She didn't think he was lying now, yet her own intuition wasn't enough. She had to prove he was innocent. “Come on. Let's go. I'll explain everything that's happened on the way back to my house.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. We go to your house and then what? You adopt me? You hire me on as your wine steward? I don't have a life anymore, Jane. Did we forget that little detail?”
“Come on,” she said, tugging on his hand. “Tomorrow, I'll drive you over to the university for your appointment. Remember? You're being tested. And then, we'll just have to wait to see what the doctors say.”
He looked up at her. “That simple, huh.”
“Yeah. I know what I'm doing. I'll keep you safe, and I'll keep me safe at the same time.”
After snuffing out his cigarette, David stood. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he said, crushing her in his arms.

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